Life on the Run (4 page)

Shortly after this, came the time to leave school. Sport had been my school life and academic achievement suffered. I took a total of nine subjects for my ‘O' levels and achieved just one; in Maths; although I could claim some near misses!

We had some fun in that last year at school. I remember trousers of prefects, and on one occasion, a member of the staff's being flown from the white flagpole.

The headmaster had a 1934 green and black Austin 8 with running boards, and I remember we pushed it out into the middle of the school field and put a potato up the exhaust. Little did I know then that in 1960 I was to buy and own that treasured possession which I bought for just £5. I learnt to drive on it and then sold it to a scrap merchant for the same money. If only I had kept that splendid old car which was still in perfect working order.

We were not a well-behaved year and were always in trouble for something, but it was all good natured and very rarely did the head have to use his cane.

In August 1952, I was still cycling and went on holiday to my relatives in Tisbury, near Salisbury, and on a Saturday morning, I cycled the eighty-four miles back to Windsor and ran in the one mile at the Agars Plough Carnival in Slough in the afternoon. A meeting that I was to return to many times and enjoy. I won with a time of 4:29.6, one of the fastest times by a sixteen-year-old in those days.

Before setting out into my career, I joined the first party of young people from Windsor to go on an exchange trip with Goslar in the Hertz Mountains near Hanover in Germany. This was Windsor's new twin town, and we all had some brief lessons in the German language before we went on what, for many including myself, was a first-ever trip overseas.

We travelled by sea from Harwich and then across Germany by train, and as this was only seven years after the war; the devastation was still obvious.

While in Goslar, we went to a nearby running track where I ran what was to be my first ‘international race'. The best senior athlete from the local club was given the privilege of running against this young sixteen-year-old from Windsor over 3,000 metres. I won this first international challenge in my running career.

One of our trips was to take us down a mine; my first but not last experience of this activity. I remember some of the tunnels were very low and they were extremely wet.

Not all went well on this trip though, as we were taken on a sightseeing tour near to the East German border. After returning to our hosts later that day, I realised I had lost my passport. This caused a few sparks, because passports were highly valued in the East of Germany. However after much panic, the passport was recovered and returned to me, although I cannot remember exactly where it was found.

The daughter of the family I stayed with, really did try to get her hands on me in more ways than one, but I resisted, as there were more attractive girls in our party. She did however get close to the family, when she eventually met my cousin while he was serving in the Educational Corps in Germany, and they eventually got married.

Chapter Three: The Start of Ten Years in Uniform

I made up my mind, long before leaving school, that I wanted to be a policeman. I think it was the adverts for Hong Kong Police and £1,000 a year that attracted me, but on my return from Germany, I joined the Berkshire Constabulary as a police cadet at Windsor. One of the first three in the county, and an interesting time.

There were no radio communications at the time, and I remember receiving instruction in 1953 when the first radio was placed in the Windsor Police Station. I received one of the first messages over the airwaves. Not that top brass trusted this new method of communication. Many messages were still transmitted via the teleprinter and the telephone, so that a stolen car or missing person details could be received in triplicate. It took sometime for the powers that be to accept one method of receiving urgent messages.

The first police dogs were recruited about the same time, and a little later the police frogmen team was formed in the Berkshire Police.

I was present in uniform for the second royal funeral in a year; that of Queen Mary; and by coincidence I was placed at the foot of the steps of the Parish Church where I had been as a civilian one year earlier.

I had an interesting two years as a police cadet. Duties were wide and various, and included going over the road to a working men's cafe to buy meals for prisoners being held in the station cells; also cleaning the cells, running errands for the superintendent and working in both the general office and admin office. My errands used to include getting on my bike and going into the park to collect a brace of pheasants for the ‘Super'; a gift from the royal estate. I also collected occasional bottles of whisky from a local off-licence that had parking restrictions outside its premises, and where customers only ever received cautions if a police officer handed out tickets.

After the first few months, I was issued with the special uniform of a cadet, and one of my duties was to collect cash from the bank and put the money into the pay envelopes for everyone from the superintendent down to me. I remember being very envious of the superintendent, who received over £20 a week, whilst my weekly pay was just about £3.

One of the cells was an arsenal of all types of weapons; mainly I think surrendered in various amnesties after the war. On one occasion, close to Christmas, someone put a turkey in there for safekeeping. It was forgotten and we had mild weather, so the bird turned to maggots and flies. Guess who had to clean up all the weapons and other items in the cell!

When the police opened a small sub-police station on the outskirts of Windsor, I manned this on my own during office hours. I was well looked after by the wives of the policemen who lived in the adjoining police houses; they kept me supplied with tea, cake and company.

About the most exciting thing that happened to me there, was when a young lady came into the station one morning and said “I am going to have a baby.” “Yes” I said. “When?” “In the next few minutes I think” was the reply. I got the ambulance there very quickly!

Part of my duties as a cadet, included sorting the wages out for all the policeman in Windsor, as mentioned earlier, which included the superintendent, Fred Salter, MVO. The pay details used to be given to me, and I would write up the pay packets with their appropriate deductions, and go to the bank to collect the cash. Then I would put the correct sums into each packet and make sure it balanced to the penny. A police constable in those days received about £7 per week and the ‘Super' received something just over £20, but all had their little extras which could be three shillings (15p) for bicycle, two shillings (10p) for torch.

When I was working at the main police station, I also used to make the tea and sell chocolate biscuits to those who worked in the police station, and always made a small profit. Another duty included looking after the switchboard and teleprinter, as well as showing guests into the superintendent's office.

A fairly frequent visitor was a young Army major from the Household Cavalry, Major the Marques of Douro, who is now the current Duke of Wellington, and whom I have met more recently, when he allowed me to organize running events on his estate at Stratfield Saye between Reading and Basingstoke. The ‘Super' was always very formal on these visits, and would make a very pronounced and distinct bow when greeting his guest; a real hand in front and hand behind deep bow.

My time as a police cadet was enjoyable and instructive, and I think it has helped me to have a responsible and fairly disciplined life. I certainly learned to type, make out reports, take phone messages and file complicated police files. Receiving phone calls was quite an art, and exact names and details of callers had to be taken; there could be no mistakes. Then there was the art of deflecting calls and callers that the superintendent would not want to be bothered with, or in many cases, no other senior person would want to be troubled with.

In 1953, I won the Berkshire Youth 880 yards title in 2:6.2, which was faster than the winning time in either of the older age groups; the senior or junior. The runner-up to me was someone who I have known throughout my running life as a competitor, training partner and athletic enthusiast; Brian Bacon (Reading AC). Later I ran and won my first road race. It was 3.5 miles and was part of the Langley Fete near Slough. There was also a seven mile ‘marathon' for seniors; these were the forerunners of today's mass running events.

While in Windsor as a police cadet, I belonged to the Windsor Parish Players and acted in a number of productions with them, including ‘Acacia Avenue'.

I was always busy and spent most of my Sundays in church attending three or four services in my capacity as a chorister, server, and even as a Sunday School teacher.

The social life revolved around a Christian club, the Anglican Young People's Association (AYPA). They were a great crowd and eventually nearly all the members were married off to each other. These included Marion and myself, who were both members, and we enjoyed a wide variety of activities, including that violent sport, mixed hockey. There were more gentle pursuits, and a group of us would meet at my house on a Sunday evening after service and have a singsong around the piano; luckily several were quite accomplished on the piano. We also provided entertainment at various social events throughout the year.

The dress for the young men at that time was a trilby hat, a walking stick and brothel creepers. At least that was what I used to pull the girls.

Along with about six of them, I queued all day at the Albert Hall on one occasion to get into the ‘Last Night of the Proms'. We did not get a space on the floor, but managed to get standing room on about three or four balconies up. It was a great night, and although I have not been back, I always enjoy that special night on television and radio.

There was never a dull moment in our lives, and I cannot understand how today, when there are so many more activities and opportunities, we hear young people protesting there is nothing to do. It is very sad, and they certainly have something lacking in their education and family life.

Frequently on a Monday evening, it was off to the Theatre Royal to see the latest play; they changed every week, and a group of us had a seat in the ‘gods', right at the back upstairs. There were some great characters at that theatre and I delivered the groceries to some of the top management. One actor who was there for many years, before making it onto television quite late in life, was Patrick Cargill.

I knew my future wife Marion while we were both still at school, and I started to go out with her just after I had left, and when she was in her fifth year. The Royal Show was held in Windsor at that time, and I was on duty at the show, which required me to cycle past the girls' school in my uniform. This got Marion into trouble for looking out of the window and eyeing up the young man in uniform. She also had the same problem a couple of years later, when I was going home to Windsor on leave from the Army. We had to wear uniform on weekend leave, and because she was seen with me, it was assumed by some that she was going out with soldiers from one of the local barracks. Some well-meaning but misinformed person tried to stir it up with Marion's parents, but were promptly put in their place.

I had a very good cross-country season at the start of 1954 and won ten races in a row, which prompted a small mention in the
London Evening
News
after my ninth win:–
Windsor and Eton Athletic Club in their first cross-country season, appear to have a real find in S. Eldon.
His ninth successive victory was in a race between Windsor, Vale of Aylesbury and RAF Halton clubs.

In March, I ran in the Southern Counties at Parliament Hill. I was in the Youth (under 18) age group, and there were 222 runners taking part. With three-quarters of a mile to go, I had won myself a good lead but disaster struck and running fast downhill, I had a heavy fall and was overtaken by four runners. I got up and fought on and with 600 yards to go had caught all but Nat Fisher (Eton Manor AC). We battled on over the last 400 yards, but the fall had taken its toll and Fisher broke the tape first. One report on the day blamed my failure to win on my race number which was 13! I then went on to Liverpool for the National Championship and came ninth out of an entry of 603.

My running continued to go well, and on the Whit Holiday I ran my first of many races at the White City. I was only just eighteen, but ran for Berkshire in the Inter Counties meeting as I had won the county three mile in a new record time of 14:43.6. I finished ninth out of the twenty-nine taking part, behind a man who I was to clash with many times in the future, Gordon Pirie. In the Reading Trophies Meeting, held at Palmer Park, Reading, in June, I won the Junior mile against a field of thirty-six runners, including John Herring, who was ranked second in the country at the distance in the previous season, and many county champions. It was a very wet weekend, and according to reports of the day, the track was largely underwater. In those days of cinder tracks, if it was wet it normally meant finishing a race with half the track sprayed up your back, and running on this type of track almost turned into cross-country running.

I continued to run for the club and breaking records right up to my call-up in the second week of July. My club records at that time were 880 yards, 2:0.6; mile, 4:23.2; two miles, 9:28.5, and three miles, 14:43.6.

I finished third in the Southern Counties mile at Battersea Park with 4:23.2, behind Roger Dunkley 4:19 (the fastest ever junior miler at that stage with 4:12), and Laurie Reed 4:22. My very last match before entering the Army, was against Finchley Harriers and Watford Harriers. I won the mile again in 4:23.2, and the 880 yards in 2:0.6. This latter record was my thirteenth for the club.

Chapter Four: National Service in the Redcaps

The next step in my life was National Service, and I remember being asked to list my choices in order of preference. I did select the Army and listed my top choice as the Horse Guards, who were stationed at the bottom of my garden; although that was not the reason for that choice. They had a very good athletic team at that time, and I had got to know their sergeant major PE instructor, as he coached at the athletic club. My second choice was logical, it was the Military Police, because I intended picking up my police career when I finished my two years' service.

My call-up came in early July 1954, just two months after my eighteenth birthday. Where was I going, and what unit was I going to? It was none of my preferred choices; not even number six on the list. I was off to Catterick Camp and the 3
rd
Signals Regiment. It was pretty tough there, being kept on the go all day with square-bashing, and being woken as early as 5 a.m. on the whim of some little corporal. The food was terrible. I don't think I have ever had anything anywhere to come even close to the shocking standard of food at Catterick Camp.

Fortunately this did not last long as after two weeks of square-bashing and guard duty (we were not let loose with rifles but carried pickaxe handles as our weapons), and where on one occasion I was in trouble for allowing the Yorkshire sheep to enter the barracks and attack the colonel's roses, I was summoned by the unit commander and told I was on the move. He was not happy because I had kept my athletic prowess quiet, and at the same time he received the orders to ship me out, he had received a letter from the secretary of my athletic club at Windsor, Len Runyard, who was possibly the nearest I ever had to a coach. It explained how good I was and could expect to be, and asking that I be allowed to continue my progress in the Army. The Signals Regiment had a very good reputation for looking after sportsmen, and they had rugby league players, footballers and Ken Norris, whom I subsequently took the British record for six miles from, had also been at Catterick a couple of years earlier, as were several league footballers, rugby league players and boxers.

I was off to Inkerman Barracks, Woking, in Surrey; the training centre and headquarters of the Royal Military Police; returning south, where I would be only a short journey from my then girlfriend Marion at Windsor. The course lasted thirteen weeks, and although there was strict discipline, I enjoyed it much better than Catterick; even the food was ten times better, but that was not difficult.

The training was of a good standard and I think I actually enjoyed those three months, though not perhaps one small part of it. This was learning to ride a motorcycle which we had to do towards the end of the course. Some of our training was done close to barracks, and some on trips out further afield. On one such trip to the Guildford area, I was riding my motorcycle at the back of the column of about twenty-five. There was just an instructor behind me, and when driving in any sort of convoy, you always seem to have to drive faster at the back than the front just to keep up. I came round a bend at about 60 mph, under a railway bridge and lost it, crashing into the bridge and ending up sprawled on the road. The instructor pulled up alongside and was actually quite nice, thinking that I must have been injured, but my ill-fitting helmet and rough motorcycling gear had saved me more than the bike. I think I damaged or destroyed three Army motorcycles during my short involvement with them. Even on the day of our driving test I got things wrong. I did not crash on this occasion but got lost and missed all the spying instructors/testers; arriving at Aldershot well after everyone else. I have not attempted to ride a two-wheeled machine since then.

If motorcycling was not my scene, one thing I did enjoy was shooting, and the trips to the range for whatever weapon we were going to use, was always something to be looked forward to. We had to be able to use any sort of shooting implement, from revolver to Bren gun, but the rifle was my favourite, even if I normally finished a session with a swollen chin from the powerful recoil of the weapon. I did get very good scores and did qualify as a marksman.

Being on the range was not without its incidents though, and there was always someone who did not realise the dangers. We had one member of our squad who was not that bright; in fact I don't know how he ever qualified for the Military Police. Yes, we were in the main bright young men, contrary to popular belief. On the range one day, this chap's rifle jammed. Some of us had finished shooting and were standing up, when he stood up and turned round pointing the weapon at us and the officer in charge, still pulling the trigger and saying “My gun won't fire.” Knowing he still had live ammunition in the chamber, we all dived to the ground in case his rifle did go off. He was suitably chastised by the NCOs and officer present, as well as the rest of us, and we were always very careful when he was around with any weapon in the future. I do not think he survived his full two years in the ‘redcaps'; he was busted back to private later in his service, and I think sent back to another unit.

At the end of the course, there was the usual passing out parade and relatives attended. My mother and Marion were there for the big day, and afterwards there was some leave before we all got sent off to our various postings. I have always liked military music and ceremonial, and it was great to be part of this special event where the Military Police Band played the ‘Watchtower', its signature tune, and we marched up and down in our best battledress; white belts, holsters, rifles and bayonets; with those sparkling boots, that had hard hours of little rings polished into them. Not that I was like one lad, who early in his training, got sent by the rest of us to the NAAFI to buy some packets of black, shiny ‘rings'. Of course he was sent back by the staff who were obviously used to having at least one recruit from each squad sent to them for the same purpose.

Our squad's specialty was slow marching, and the powers that be congratulated us and said that it was some of the best they had seen anywhere. It was good that we could do something well together, as we were a mixed bag like any squad of mainly National Servicemen.

Then we were off on leave before being sent to our many and varied postings. These varied from Korea, Singapore, Hong Kong, Berlin, SHAPE in Paris or Brussels. My posting was not so exotic, probably because they wanted to keep me handy for the unit running team. I was going to Bulford Camp on Salisbury Plain; Provost Company 147, a small unit of about twenty-five to thirty men. The CO was a Major Goebbels (yes, I believe he was a relation) and there were two other officers, a company sergeant major, a staff sergeant, a couple of sergeants, and all the rest were lance corporals like myself.

This turned out to be a very pleasant posting for me. Much of the time we were left to our devices, and I was able to go off over the plains and get some serious training in. I put in a lot of hard work and I have always been convinced that it was my period there that built my fitness up for the later success. I even managed to get a team together to run for the unit in the Salisbury Plain District Cross-Country Championships while I was at Bulford.

The major had other ideas for me. He was a keen horseman and wanted to see one of his men go to the top in the Modern Pentathlon, which was dominated at the time by a Corporal Hudson in the Horse Guards. I was a marksman and a good runner, and I could just about swim, but horse riding and fencing, I had no experience of at all. The CO said he would teach me to ride and I could use his horses, and he would send me on a course to Aldershot to learn the art of fencing. I declined and he accepted my decision that I would prefer to make it in athletics, although I have often had doubts as to whether I missed a great opportunity.

My introduction to the Inter Counties Cross-Country Race was on 15
th
February 1955. It was held at Childwall Park near Liverpool, and it was cold; very cold. There had been snow and the ground was frozen solid, and as a lot of it was ploughed fields, this made the surface very uneven, as well as frozen. There was even talk of the race being cancelled after we all arrived on the Saturday morning, but it did go ahead, although some of the track stars at that time, including Gordon Pirie, were not happy. The real cross-country runners triumphed, and the winner was Ken Norris in 37:34. Pirie did run in spite of his protests that it was too dangerous and finished 6
th
in 38:43. I had a good run considering I was only eighteen years old at the time and finished 67
th
in 40:26.0, which was fourteen places better than Frank Sando, who on any other day would have been challenging for the title. In those days all distance runners took part in a full cross-country season and the entry in that race was a catalogue of all the runners who were around at that time, and for some years to come.

In these early days as a junior, I ran in the Kodak Sports at Harrow, and against Chris Chataway in a 3,000 metre race, where I finished second in 8:44. This was a good meeting that I went to a number of times, as the prizes were always some of the top products of that company, and we could always request and get what we wanted by way of a prize. I had always admired Chataway up to that point, but when I saw this scruffy runner in tatty Oxford sweater and old trousers, and even dirtier running kit when he stripped off, I vowed I would never look like that. I had heard someone say that even if you are not a champion, always try and look like one. From that race on I was fanatical about turnout. I would always wear clean kit, and I would even wash the laces in my running spikes. Frequently, and whenever possible, I would have a haircut before a big race and would only ever wear clean kit but never new kit.

My oldest proper training diary starts with races from September 1955 while in the Army, and the actual training is logged from 1
st
November of that year. I had kept a brief training diary while I was at school. I was running six to twelve miles every day, and running twice on some days. I had various circuits for training worked out. There were laps of three miles where I could run one or more to make up the distance. Good times for the three mile circuits were around 15:15 and for the double lap 31:20. There was an eight mile run from Bulford to Tidworth and back and another to Amesbury. Other runs I described as uphill, covered various distances up to seven miles; these were all on Salisbury Plain.

In September, I had run in the Maidenhead Road Relay and recorded 21:48 for the 4.25 miles. I was still stationed at Woking then, before moving to Bulford in October.

After running for Guildford and Godalming AC, my second claim club near Woking, I joined Salisbury AC and started to run for them over the country. If I could get back to Windsor, I would run for my first claim club, and I did this twice in November, winning one race and getting second in another. In the December, I ran three times for Salisbury in home fixtures, winning two and getting second in the other.

While at Bulford, I had a very convenient job as batman (unofficial) to the sergeant major. This gave me plenty of time to train as well as cleaning his kit and my own, so that I could never get into trouble on parade. I had my own room in the Sergeants' Mess, and I was now training quite seriously and running more or less every day. Some of my runs were quite long; probably ten to twelve miles, either along the top of Salisbury Plain or on the roads to Amesbury or Tidworth.

My training now was up to a good level, and a look at my training diary for the start of 1956 shows this. The first week in January, I totalled seventy-three miles from twelve training runs. The following week this went up to eighty-five miles in fifteen sessions, and on several days this included running three times a day. The following week it was up to ninety-one miles and sixteen training sessions, including one day when I actually ran four times. The last week in January, I seemed to have a great number of rest days, but perhaps this was to work in my favour.

There were some good runners in the forces in those days. Derek Ibbotson, who in 1957 set world record figures for the mile, was in the RAF along with many good runners; in the Army we had Basil Heatley (silver medal winner in the Olympic Marathon 1964), Gerry North (who won the National Cross-Country title), Mick Firth and Laurie Reed (South London Harriers) and other runners who were in the top twenty distant runners in the country. Some were little known then, but became very well known later, like Mel Batty (Thurrock Harriers). Even the Navy had a couple of star runners, and one of them was a particularly good marathon runner, E. R. Pape.

I floated between Bulford and Woking, depending on who required my running services. Generally it was summers at Inkerman and winters on Salisbury Plain. There was a small shop near the station in Salisbury, where they produced handmade shoes, and it was there that I bought my second pair of running spikes.

Training on the plain was always fun, especially where the Royal Air Force were practising dropping bales of straw from low-flying transporter aircraft. They used me as their target but they never got too close for comfort.

One winter there was a lot of snow and vehicles could not get out, so I was dispatched with various military papers and ran through the snow to deliver them to HQ several miles away. That was when I first found the use of woollen socks over running shoes to be very effective in giving more grip in snow and ice conditions.

While at Bulford, I even managed to get some senior and very mature NCOs running, and we were able to enter teams in races in the Salisbury Plain district.

I was sent back to Woking on one occasion for a signals course, which was all about radio communication and Morse code. I passed the course, which entitled me to have crossed semaphore flags on my sleeve and an extra couple of bob added to my twenty-five shillings (£1.25) per week pay. Later in my service this ‘qualification' was to get me a couple of interesting days at the Military Staff College at Camberley, where I was one of two or three selected to act as the communication's control, on a major military exercise.