For the benefit of the historically-challenged, a little preamble.

In 1963 the British Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Home and some other foreign blokes got together and signed the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty which forbade atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons by the agreed nations. These included Great Britain and the USA. Therefore, at the stroke of a pen, Christmas Island as a nuclear test base was redundant.

The effect of this treaty meant that ordinary squaddies like me had to remain ‘tourists’, with little chance of becoming full-blown Grapplers.

But never mind that, the purpose of this anecdote is to give the reader a glimpse of the craziness that affected squaddies, and sometimes blue-jobs, who were doomed to months on The Rock.

One of the effects of the treaty was that the majority of US personnel left the island fairly quickly and this more or less left Main Camp deserted. As RE personnel, including myself, manned the power station it was therefore obvious that we were redundant also. The power at Main Camp was supplied by six very large English Electric diesels driving generators and it was the job of us fitters to keep them running. Eventually, all six engines were stopped and auxilliary engines supplied the small amount of power required by the US missile tracking station.

Our job was to then prepare the engines, generators and switchgear for preservation which in effect ‘mothballed’ them for a 5 year period. We were issued with giant rolls of heavy polythene, old vacuum cleaners and heat-sealing guns. The object was to envelop the components in polythene, sling in a few shovels of silica-gel, use the hoovers to suck out as much air as we could then seal the polythene closed.

After much hilarity and mistakes, we got the hang of it and things proceeded well. Er, sometimes, accidents happened, like the day we had just finished entombing a large piece of electrical gear and we stepped back to admire our, what today would be called ‘shrink-wrap’, when someone noticed that a huge dozy land-crab had found his way into the bag and was gasping his last in what we called a vacuum. ‘Sod ‘im’ was the typical squaddie retort. I wonder if he’s still there?.

Now, after all this, I come to the point of the story. I am still unsure who the main character in this tale was, but I am 99% sure that it was Cpl ‘Shady’ Lane and if I am wrong, I sincerely apologise to Shady should he read this. I know that if he reads this, he will know the perpetrator and correct me.

One day, Shady decides that he has a cunning plan and enlists us to help him with the polythene sheeting which is unrolled and laid, doubled over, on the ground. Shady then proceeds to lie, spread-eagled on the sheet, while we draw around his body with chalk. The resulting silhouette is cut out and heat-sealed around the edges. The head, feet and hands are cut off and a long slit is made on one side along the ‘spine’ - get the picture?. Sappers are renowned for their ingenuity but this masterpiece of insanity had to be seen to be pitied.

 Shady enjoyed visits to the Blue Lagoon Cinema like we all did and he reckoned he had the answer to the heavy, unexpected rainfall problem. Of course, if it worked, he could no longer enjoy the Wave but that was his problem.

Shady was delighted with the result of his new waterproof suit/overall and proceeded to climb into it through the slit at the rear and after much tugging and pushing we got his arms and legs into place and his head through the hole. Now we come to a problem of physics. If I remember correctly, the average daily humidity was about 80% and the afternoon temperature was in the region of 100 F.

.When Shady was encased in his ‘suit’, his perspiration glands exploded and the suit misted up. It was heavy duty stuff and it stuck to his skin. He could just about walk with a stiff gait and we were in hysterics at the sight of this object, similar to a wrinkly Michelin man strutting about, huffing and puffing with the heat within and grinning with satisfaction at his own ingenuity.

At about 2 minutes+ Shady began to shout for help to get the thing off as he realised how hot it was. Well, it took considerably longer than that to remove it as it was sticking to him. Nevertheless, Shady was undeterred after its removal, saying that he would proudly wear it to the Blue Lagoon with his hat that night assuming that it would not be so hot and therefore more comfortable.

We waited that night with bated breath for the emergence of the idiot from his billet. Out he came, puffing away, jerkily heading for the cinema, big hat on head, clutching his cushions, sarnies, drinks etc. and I think he smoked a cigar. Roars greeted him and he waved and smiled as he processed along, thankfully too drunk in ecstasy and ego to really hear the names he was being called. I recall the mist beginning to form in his ‘suit’ before he was lost to view in the cheering throng.

Suddenly, there was a commotion and shouts of ‘Get him out’. Shady then appeared, free from his designer gear, still undaunted, but obviously sweating heavily and ensuring the crowds that he was well and that his invention would be put into good use at the first sign of rain.

Off we went to the pictures and after a while, sure enough, the first drops appeared and Shady went into a shambolic dance between the seats, dislodging many treasured hats, whilst trying to get arms, legs, head and body through the small slit. In true Rock form the rain took only seconds to become torrential, as Shady still fumed and struggled, all the while getting wetter, until with a great cheer, he was enveloped in his suit. Just then the rain stopped. As he had got into the thing soaking wet, condensation again began to form at a rapid rate and then we had the reverse procedure whilst our brave inventor disrobed.

I have it on good authority that no-one, in the history of the Blue Lagoon cinema caused so much unnecessary disruption in such a small period of time. Next morning the suit had disappeared, never to see the light of day again. (I think!)

  ©: R. Morrison. 23 Jul. 01