Memories & Stories
The 'Memories' page contains memories/stories about their days at Denbury Camp. If you have a memory or story from your days at Denbury then please use the 'Create Entry' option above to include your tale of days past.

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GETTING IT WRONG - Jim Brown
Having the surname Brown puts you second in the que which sometimes works to your advantage, but not always for me, in nig wing I was the first bed on the left as you entered the barrack room and was an easy target for Sgt Bob Peak when we did bed lay outhe always used to like to tip one bed over which in his mind was rubbish. 9 out of ten times it was mine as he left the room. After suffering this for weeks I thought I would beat him to it ,so one morning as he entered the room I tipped my bed over, without a word he inspected the rest of the and walked across the room to me, now then 759 he said there was no need to do that as this morning I was going to leave you alone,and with that he turned around and tipped up the lads opposite.Needless to say normal service soon resumed.Happy Days
YOU NEVER CAN TELL! - Joe Inguanez. 992
Another Thursday and a group of us were out on the moor with a 2Lt. whose name I have forgotton. He was however a giant of a man, the son of a vicar and very softly spoken...It started to rain and gradually the weather turned very nasty.We made our way to a road and huddled together in a crofter's ruin which afforded us some shelter. After an hour or so, either by luck or design a 'champ' came over the hill and picked us up. Eight of us were packed into this jeep and we set off for Denbury. Ten minutes down the road our Rolls Royce engine sputtered and died.It was still raining stair-rods and after discovering that the driver had no mechanical aptitude the Lt. got out and tried to fix the problem. He must have tried for an hour to get the thing going until drenched and covered in grease he flung the door open and proclaimed: F*#k the F*#ker the F*#king thing's F*#ked.
THE REGIMENTAL TIE - Joseph Inguanez
I was just reading how Jim Harris was presented with a regimental tie by John Topping and it brought back a long forgotten memory. I'd been in the guardhouse for 7 days and on the morning of my release I was marched into the C.O's office and lectured by Lt. Col. Gregory on my undisciplined ways. As everyone knows the Col was a gentleman and to mitigate his harsh remarks to me he produced the new regimental tie and asked my opinion of it (I think it was maroon with little jimmys on it). As I stepped forward to take a gander his dog Major growled and stood up quickly and in a reflex action I kicked the poor mut in the head...A deadly silence followed...When he saw that the animal was not injured he turned to and said: "maybe you should try out for the football team Inguanez."
GUARDROOM SLOGANS - Mick 'Happy' Taylor
Those who spent an innocent time at Denbury, and didn't spend as much time as me in the nick or on jankers, may not remember the slogans over the guardhouse door to the cellblock: TEDAANA - "Treat Every Day As A New Adventure" and AATAOLBYK,WTHBWCW "After All They Are Only Little Boys, You Know, We Try Hard But We Cannot Win". I have these same slogans on the wall of the Youth Club I now run.
ICE, FIRE AND BACCY - Mick 'Happy' Taylor
My first traumatic recollection was the end of Christmas term Outward Bound competition, a night trek from ??? north to Okehampton Battle camp. As the dreaded day approached we could see the snow building on Hey Tor. A row broke out between the MO and the CO about the advisability of carrying on. The CO said "My boys can cope". The MO disagreed, and began signing light duty chits as fast as people could get to the medical centre. He ran out of time, and the net result was that platoons were decimated, just 3s and 4s. We were coached out to Dartmoor, wind howling and snow falling, wearing just battledress. This was the thursday night, and they were still finding people wandering lost on the Sunday. I remember Tony Thompson from F troop was one of the last picked up, and it turned his head: he was shipped quietly out and medically discharged. We were lucky : completely lost, stumbling through the blizzard when we caught a glimpse of headlights swinging in a circle, above us to the left: it was one of the trucks turning on the loop of road through Okehampton Camp: We were heading merrily north, about a mile off course. Where we would have got to without that sign I shudder to think: that stew tasted good. I can also remember the fire that burnt out the old F troop spider. I had the bed next to the fire door in the middle wing, and when people ran into the room followed by whisps of smoke, shouting "FIRE", I was off my bed and out the door. Got to the bottom of the ramp, and remembered my guitar, went back in for it, and in those few seconds the fire travelled the length of the room, and I lost my eyebrows getting out, Saved the guitar though. The speed of the fire was all that polish on the floor. I remember standing looking up the room, and watching lockers drop through the floor in opposite pairs : very regimental. The other hazard was the shower of exploding pieces of asbestos from the roof. ( and all those hidden tins of contraband compo rations). I still have a piece of molten glass with Denbury soild inside that used to be my window. The one piece of new kit they couldn't immediately issue were stable belts, so it became a mark of escape from the fire to wear jumpers outside trousers, until the powers got tired of our little rebellion and clamped down. I was also reminded by Jim Brown of my nasty habit of spending all my wages on Old Holborn, and once people had squandered their hard earned on taylor made fags and a Friday night out, I became the snout baron, breakfast tea in bed, boots polished, shirts ironed.

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