This incident occured at the live firing ranges at Putlos, on the Baltic coast, where Support Company were spending a rather exciting few weeks. The barracks in which we were housed served as the temporary home for any unit using the ranges. The Champs of M.M.G. platoon and the Humbers of the Mortar Platoon had made the journey from Minden by road, whilst the Oxford Carriers of Anti-tank Platoon had been transported by rail, and had only driven the last few miles.
One afternoon we drivers had been left behind, in order to carry out essential maintenance to our respective vehicles, whilst the remainder of the company were off enjoying themselves in weapons training, assault courses and similar fun activities! The garages were built around four sides of a large, hollow square, with the doors all opening into this area. A wide, cobbled road ran all round the outside of this complex, so it was possible to drive all round this square. On one side of the square the road was even wider than the other three sides, and in the middle of this leg was an ‘island’ which had at one time been the site of petrol pumps. These had, however, been removed, but still in place was a small, brick-built ‘office’, which looked like a diminutive air-raid shelter. The substantial brick walls were topped-off by a one-piece, pre-cast concrete roof, about eight feet long by six feet wide, and five inches thick.
Four of the blokes decided that, as “authority” had its collective back turned, this would be the right time to evaluate the road-holding characteristics of the steel tracks of an Oxford on the polished cobbles of the road surface! The driver took it round several times, before succumbing to the blandishments of one of his passengers, to whom he relinquished the controls. As is often the case, this thoroughly inexperienced idiot decided within a few circuits, that he knew all there was to know about driving tracked vehicles. He began to go faster and faster, until, as he turned on to the widest “leg” of the circuit, his seven-ton steed began to slide out of control. He struggled desperately to regain the upper hand, and one of the things he tried was that old chestnut of a trick that “experienced” drivers boast about, namely, accelerate out of trouble! The five-litre Cadillac V8 engine responded like a thoroughbred, and the monster abandoned its pirouette and got down to the serious business of forward motion!
Two of the passengers who were along for the ride, were sitting up on the top above the rear-mounted engine, with their legs dangling down into the crew-well, where they should have been sitting! When they saw what was happening they leapt down into the proper place, and only just in time! Unfortunately, when the tracks began to bite, the Oxford headed straight for the island, at probably thirty miles an hour. When it hit the building, the walls exploded as though a bomb had gone off inside. Bricks, mortar, timber, plaster and dust flew everywhere! When the dust settled, I could see the Carrier some distance down the road, now stationary and proudly “wearing” the pre-cast roof of the building like a trophy of battle! This was positioned so precisely on the top of the vehicle, that the occupants were trapped inside, fortunately unhurt. This was one thing we couldn’t handle, so we were forced to report this “accident” to a higher authority, and a mobile crane was called upon to to “raise the roof” and release the four miscreants! As you can well imagine, their liberty was short-lived!