An Old Soldier (Cpl Hughes) by George Pambrun

It was in Ft Henry, Germany, in 1965-66, and we received word that a new arrival was being posted into the Signal Squadron. Word had it that he was a Corporal with 6 years in the Army and he was being awarded a PMQ in Soest. This had quite a few people upset as PMQ were a rarity and awarded with time in the service, it wasn’t t ill later that we learned that he had 18 years with the British Army, during WW2 and had served in Germany just after WW2.

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Cpl Hughes was his name and he was a very interesting and extraordinary person and had many experiences and stories to share. I never knew his first name and he didn’t mind Hughie, I spent many hours with Hughie in the back of the Administration Control Radio Van listening to his stories. He always smoked a pipe and was a gentleman, never swore and was pleasant to be with.

He was considerably older than the majority of us and he was probably in his early forties. He had a slight build and was of medium height.  He had pleasant facial features and wore quite thick glasses.  His walking out dress was that of a middle class British gentleman. He wore a hat, had a tweed wool jacket, with leather patches on the elbows, white shirt with cravat, dress slacks and brogue shoes, very highly polished and all of this accentuated by the ever presence of a pipe. He was of a quiet demeanor, sophisticated, very well read, experienced traveler and knowledgeable but by no means a snob.

He was very experienced as a soldier and had traveled extensively with the British Army and had served in India in the late 1940s.  He had a friend in the Indian Army and he used to travel on foot to his friends home on leave, in the lawless remote area of northern India, and to do so they would have to take weapons with them for personal protection. He had many interesting stories, of experiences on these visits about the culture and history of the tribal people.

He did not stay in Rear Troop very long as he was recognized for his job knowledge, experience and maturity and transferred to the Communication Center (ComCen).  He was not awed by Senior Staff Officers and for that matter the Brigade Commander. 

One story was that while on Exercise in Soltau, one Friday evening, there was no one around of any authority, so Hughie made a command decision and sent the Dispatch Rider (DR) on the scheduled run. It so happened that the General was working late and had a message to be sent by DR. The Chief clerk found out the DR had been released and Cpl Hughes got supreme shit and further to that he was not to dispatch the DR with out checking with the General. The chastisement was unwarranted and Cpl Hughes was a little perturbed, and took him literally, and would walk into the General's office, didn’t matter what was going on, and asked if the General had any messages to be sent with the DR.  

The General, thought this to be considerate of the Cpl and after some time happened to mention it to the CO Sigs. When asked why he circumvented the chain of command, Hughie could honestly say he was so directed by the Chief clerk. Hughie knew that he was to use the chain of command but he was a cagey old devil and there was some embarrassed staff over that one. It wasn’t long before he was given the deference deserved of his knowledge, service and experience.

One day shortly after I had got to know him, I asked him if he would drive me into Soest, as Judy had our car that day. Hughie was more than willing, so I cleared it with L/Sgt Jerry Leger and we departed in Hughie’s Volkswagen Stationwagon, and headed into Soest by way of the Missile sites road. I quickly, and with concern, observed when Hughie went to shift gears, he looked down at the stick shift and watched his hand go through the motion while shifting from one gear to the next. As he did this the car was drifting left or right on the road. As you may recall, many of the secondary roads were narrow and no shoulder. By the time we passed the old Gasthaus, that we used to frequent, my feet were up on the dash and I was saying to Hughie for “Chris sake watch the road.” We met several vehicles and he would jerk the vehicle to the right or left, just in time. By the time we got into Soest, I was a nervous wreck. I don’t know how we got back to the Fort but I just know that as much as I liked Hughie I never rode with him again.

Hughie was transferred from Radio Tp to the ComCen and I never saw him that often, after, because he worked shifts. Now, as many of you will recall all Radio Operators (Rad Op) had to have there DND 404 (Military Drivers License) in order to draw trades pay. Teletype Operators (Tel Op) did not have to have that qualification. Consequently Rad Ops used to get a lot of the extra driving duties and it was a point of contention. Anyway one of my buddies was a Tel Op who worked in the ComCen but at this time did not know Hughie.

One Happy Hour we were discussing this driver situation over a few beers and I told him how it irked me, he just laughed and goaded me on. So knowing that Hughie was now in the ComCen and one of the few drivers, and knowing Hughies driving weakness. I said to my friend I would bet him that by the time we get back from Soltau that he and all his Tel Ops would be getting there DND 404 and that he would encourage it. He said something to the effect Bull Shit. So I said I would bet a case of Snap Capps and we were on.

On the convoy to Soltau I had arranged to be in the ComCen packet and serial and behind the packet leader who happened to be Cpl Hughes and my Tel Op friend. Now the vehicle was a ¾ ton PU and the gearshift is much bigger, longer and covers more area than a VW.  Hughie followed the same procedure and you could tell when he was changing gears, as the vehicle would drift to the left or right. Now when we got to Soltau, my friend confronted me, called me every derogatory name that he could think of and then some and he said, “You knew about this, you rotten bastard.” He was angry, after that terrifying journey, I tried to deny it but was unsuccessful. I still have to chuckle after all those years. It didn’t end there because now on the way back to Ft Henry, we were in the same line up and when we got to Menden there was a British Army barracks on our right, so Hughie just pulled right in and the rest of the packet followed and toured around the camp. The gate guards seemed to realize the mistake lifted the barrier and never stopped us. I think by the time we got back on the route we had joined a Serial behind us. When I asked Hughie about it later, he said, “George it just seemed natural, I was stationed there after the war.” It wasn’t long after we got back that I got my winnings and the boys in ComCen got their DND 404, it was a win-win situation.

Now it doesn’t end here, we get back to Ft Henry and many of us go on holidays, so it leaves some sections with fewer bodies. One day they are short of a DR and Hughie has to take the run, in a small Volkswagen beetle, on a run to Soest. Soest is a 1000-year-old walled city and it was built long before the automobile. Many of the streets are one-way and Grandweg Strasse just around the corner from the Crystal bar was part of the route, it’s leading to one of the ancient gates leading to Ft Chambly and Bielefeld.  Down the street, there was a jog in street and a storefront, directly in the path and required a quick maneuver to right and then back left. The store had an all glass front and that is just about where Hughie would be changing gears and Yep, Hughie buried that VW right into that Jewelry store, lucky no one was hurt, just shook up.

There was a Military Police Platoon in FT Henry and many of us messed and frolicked together and it happened the MP that conducted the investigation was a friend and he said, he thought that Hughie had been drinking, there was no other explanation, as the accident took place at 1030 hrs in the morning.  No I said my friend I can tell you exactly what happened!

The last I heard of Hughie was that he became a Psychologist and was working at one of the Penitentiaries in Kingston, Ont.

Its not my intention in anyway to belittle or ridicule his image as a soldier or person but to honor him by remembering him and writing about incidents that I recall involving him, I admired him and respected him as a fellow soldier and  friend.

He was just not a great driver and that’s the end of the story.