Former PMC Sgt Major brings out book: A Guardsmans Lot.

Discussion in 'REME' started by Heywood_Jablowme, Dec 21, 2006.

Welcome to the Army Rumour Service, ARRSE

The UK's largest and busiest UNofficial military website.

The heart of the site is the forum area, including:

  1. "Steve Rudge writes in graphic and humorous detail, his life in the Grenadier Guards from 1966 to 1990, it shows how he matured from a 15-year-old boy soldier to becoming a senior Warrant Officer.
    He served in many places around the world and with numerous Armies; the reader will enjoy the truthful way that the book is written. Harsh and blunt language is used to describe his life for 25 years. This book also gives the authors views on the severe amount of stupidity and bulling that he was subjected too (sic) by those in authority, who had used their Rank and position to fulfill their own aims instead of looking after their subordinates or comrades."

    What a screaming hypocrite.

    He was my CSM in Arborfield and was a bully. He left the Army from Arborfield. Frankly, I believe that a 3 yr Crafty who's done a couple of tours will have more of interest to write about.

    A bloke called Les E***n took over him and was a breath of fresh air, making drill almost bearable on a saturday morning.

    Google'd Rudge to find out if he's living in a cardboard box, no joy!!

    BTW what is a SENIOR Warrant Officer? WO2 in the Guards?
  2. isn't that a WO1? WO2 being junior - or is it too early in the morning for basic rank recognition? 8O
  3. Flyingrockdj

    Flyingrockdj War Hero Moderator

    Rock steady Eddie. well that'll be a good read!
  4. This is the first page of the book from his self publishing web-site - the grammar is poor and he keeps repeating himself - and that's just the start of the book

    I stepped off the train at Brookwood in Surrey. Be there by fifteen thirty hours, May the 10th 1966, that was what the instructions read. Outside in the car park a green Bedford Army bus was collecting its cargo of wide eyed 15 year old apprehensive boys, such as myself.

    “GET ON THE F***ING BUS” the driver barked!

    “I WANT MY F***ING TEA,” the driver again.

    That sounded more like it. I had never really heard anyone swear in such graphic detail before, and the driver thought nothing of it. The closest that we ever came to hearing such language was when as stupid kids we were trying to be clever. Soon I would realise that this was going to teach me a whole New World, of the Queen’s English. A Sergeant jumped up on the footplate and screamed


    What amazed me was that no one was talking, so why was he telling us to shut up? The world of the army was a strange place, still is I am sure.

    “Right, listen in. This is the bus for the Guards Depot, Junior Guardsman Company. If you’re not for it, f*** off now and get on the next train home. You may break your mother’s heart but you’re killing mine”. Again the Sergeant is screaming.

    No one got off, too scared to, I think. Not wishing to loose face in front of all these new lads. The bus trundled on its route. This route, I can recollect as the longest two miles in my life, but we will come to that. The rest of the day was great, we were talked to, fed, and given a bed to sleep on, we were even permitted to go down to the NAAFI for some tea or a cold drinks. That was only after we had written a letter home telling all was fine. What did we know? At twenty two hundred hours (2200Hrs) we listened to a bugle playing some tune or other. Thereafter we were plunged into darkness, as someone shouted,

    “lights out”.

    If you had been asleep prior to that, you would have been woken up by the volume of:


    Strange place this army. In the dark interior of the barrack room the outline of the twenty-two beds, eleven on each side of the room were visible. I could not sleep and viewed what was to be my home for the next three months. One long room, beds each side sitting on white wood floorboards

    “From where in the world does this white wood come from” I wondered?

    We would all find out soon enough. Running down the centre of the floor was three-foot wide strip of mirrored lino running the full length of the barrack room.

    “How did the manufacturers get it to shine so bright?” I would soon find out. Each bed space had a battle ship grey six- foot by three- foot steel locker. In the centre of the room were two large wooden racks with a large chain running through the centre.

    “looks like a good place to store your water skis,” I thought, that is if I had any. This was the rifle rack. At the top of the room stood three bright red buckets; two containing spotlessly clean sand, and the centre one containing crystal clear water. Under the centre bucket stood a highly polished brass pump and black hose.

    “How did the manufacturers manage to get the brass so clean and the hose so black?” I was to find out soon enough. Looking around the room, the beds full of Britain’s finest young men, most escaping Borstal or a father who enjoys the punch bag of a son and others like myself unable to get a job because I was too damn thick, and a lazy little bastard at school or so I was told. However, there we all were, twenty-two young men all with their own private thoughts that first night in the finest Regiment in the British Army or so the recruiting Sergeant told us.

    “What would tomorrow bring?” I would soon find out.

    Welcome to the Guards Depot Pirbright Surrey.
  5. Never did meet "Judge" Rudge but when i was at PMC (1991) the rumours about him lived on.

    Agree with Heywood_Jablowme, Les was a good bloke, had his moments but then isn't that what CSM's are meant to be like?!

    Would be interesting to see what this bloke has written about tho.

    Drill on a Saturday morning? When i was in the junior divs and noone really knew you that well we used to get someone to answer our names on a sat morning for drill. i was usually in Hull by 11pm on a friday night!

    Drill with Les was usually a laugh mind, if you got the Drill Sgt (WO2 McC**m) IG it was far from it, that fcuker used to sing a tune of about turns on the march and have you sweating your nads off after the first 2 minutes.
  6. He left as a WO2 yet he is described as a Senior Warrant Officer.

    Although thanks for the early morning observation but my sarcasm was missed in print!!
  7. Surely noone has published this? If the first page confuses 'lose' with 'loose' and writes about 'a cold drinks' it doesn't say much for attention to detail.
  8. Buzzzzzzz - Repetition of "soon find out"

    That rings so true - an uneducated 15 year old has nothing but where to keep their water-skis (if only they had some).

    Is this a self-parody, or an anti-Grenadier wah ?.
  9. I remember steve rudge very well as he was my csm from 88 - 89 and yes he was something of a bully but that was the mentality at that time. You got a thump instead of being given extras etc thats just the way it was.
  10. done through a company called Authorhouse - self publishing (or vanity publishing as it is often called). people who can't get their book accepted anywhere can pick up the tab of having it bound, published etc.

    this is widely done in specialist fields e.g. local interest books, and can be profitable. but it's more usual that the author ends up out of pocket. the reason being that most books that are self-published were not good enough for an editor to risk pushing.

    search for this book and you will see numerous booksellers offering it with the words: "This book is printed on demand, please allow up to 10 days extra for delivery. (PAPERBACK) " or "AUTHORHOUSE, USA Usually available within 7 working days (Print on Demand firm sale only)".

    i have only ever bought one self-published book (Worst Fears Confirmed by Graeme Deeley). highly recommend it.

    normally i would give them the widest possible birth, because anyone can publish their own book if they have the money. being in print is no guarantee of quality.

    having said that, i take my hat off to anyone who has written a book - no matter what the quality. takes a lot of dedication and hard work, and i can understand why an author would pay out of their own pocket to take the risk to see it in print. after all that hard work, would you be prepared to just throw it in the bin?