Introduction:

I met old Jake down at our local pub, and for months I would buy him a pint of the best ale, and he would recite stories of the service he had seen during the Second World War. Like many old soldiers, he loved to tell people about his various exploits, and as an ex-Commando, he had many varied tales to spin.

However, I was totally unprepared for the tale he told me one evening after a few more pints than usual. I was absolutely fascinated at the images forming in my head as he recited the tale. I thought that it was just a drunken old soldier’s tale until he produced the proof that it really happened.

The Story:

It was in early 1943 that I was stationed at the training camp in the north of England. I had volunteered for the Commandoes and transferred out of the Infantry. The camp was a secret training facility for the Commando units in the middle of nowhere.

I had passed my training with the rest of my intake, and we were waiting around for a posting abroad. Rumours had it that the move was imminent as there was a build-up of forces on the Italian front. We were on 24-hour stand-by, so our kit was permanently packed, ready to go at a moment’s notice. We were stuck in the camp miles from anywhere with just a small NAAFI canteen hut as our only outlet. We were living in metal Nissan huts. The only females that we saw were the big NAAFI women and about a dozen WACS (female soldiers) who worked over in the admin offices.

The sight of the WACS walking around the camp in their tight-trim uniforms was enough to get any red-blooded male, deprived of female company, going, and these girls knew it. Their own hut was in a compound on the other side of the camp, and they had to pass through the main camp, going backwards between their billets and the admin block. These girls were what were generally known as prick teasers, serious flirts that had no intention of actually going with any of the men but who would go out of their way to get the men excited at their presence.

As they walked through the men’s billet area, they would put on that extra wiggle of their buttocks as they walked, if they knew men were watching (of course, they always were). They would hitch up their skirts that extra couple of inches or stop and raise their skirts to straighten a perfectly neat stocking top, flashing a glimpse of the tops of their white thighs and suspenders, always giggling to each other as they carried on. They would expand their chests and undo a couple of buttons at the top of their tunics so that the straining material would bulge and show glimpses of the top mounds of their bosoms.

If any of the men approached them, they would get all coy and run off. They were not interested in plain grunts like us. These girls had one ambition, and that was to bag an Officer as a husband, along with the money, prestige, and good life that went along with such a catch. They just teased the men because they could and knew that their teasing would get the men frustrated and hot under the collar (not to mention in the trouser department).

Things had come to a head when two of the lads had gotten a bit too worked up and had cornered a couple of the girls. They had tried to steal a kiss and a bit of a feel. It was in plain daylight in front of half the camp, so nothing really bad had happened, but the girls had run off and started screaming assault and rape and all sorts of terrible accusations against the men. To cut a long story short, because there were so many witnesses, the lads only got punished with extra fatigue duties in the cookhouse and NAAFI. This included jobs like peeling potatoes and washing pots and the like.

However, the incident rattled a lot of the frustrated lads, who started to plan a way of getting their own back on these prick teasing females. Plans were made and arrangements sorted out for the coming Friday evening.

It was standard practice for someone from all the billets to go to the NAAFI canteen just before they closed in the evenings, and collect a large flask of hot chocolate, as a bedtime drink for all the occupants. On this Friday evening, the two lads who were on extra fatigues in the canteen, washing pots, managed to distract the couple of NAAFI women for a few minutes, and slip a load of sleeping tablets into the flask prepared for the girl’s WAC billet.

When the canteen closed, the two lads returned to our hut to inform us that things had gone as planned with the flask being collected by a couple of the girls. We all sat back and passed the time by playing cards, drinking bottles of smuggled beer, and generally doing what lads do in the evenings when confined to an army billet.

By midnight, the camp was all quiet, with everyone not on guard duty turned in for the night and fast asleep. There was no sign of any light from chinks in any of the huts’ blackout curtains. We had spent the last half hour preparing ourselves and sitting in the dark, and we were all now dressed in black clothes and equipment. We looked as if we were about to go on a commando raid in a war zone. Our hands and faces were covered in camouflage paint, and we all wore black balaclava hoods. We slipped out of our hut in silence, one at a time.

We sneaked across the camp unseen in the dark and climbed silently over the high compound fence of the women’s quarters. There was an open gate facing the main camp, but a sentry post near the entrance covered this, and we didn’t want to attract any attention to ourselves. We all congregated around the front door to the women’s hut and listened in silence for any sign of movement within. After about five silent minutes, we opened the unlocked door and, as quietly as possible, entered the dark interior of the women’s hut.

As our eyes adjusted to the low light levels in the room, we were able to make out the eleven figures asleep in the beds. The twelfth girl would be the Corporal, who would have her own small, little room at the other end of the hut. The only movement was the rise and fall of some of the women’s chests as they automatically breathed in their sleep.

Silently, we moved around the army-issue metal beds, ensuring that all the girls were truly in a heavy sleep. When we were satisfied, we used strips of torn sheets that we had prepared earlier to carefully tie the girls’ hands to the top of the metal bedsteads. Each of the girls had a thick gag tied around their mouths. Although some of the girls stirred during this process, none of them were aroused enough to actually wake up. When the gags and hand ties were on, we gently drew the blankets down the beds and off their bodies until we could grab their feet and also use strips to tie their feet to the bottom bedstead. Most of the girls had been sleeping on their backs or sides, and these had been gently tied up on their backs. A couple of the girls had been sleeping on their fronts, so to avoid awaking them, they had been secured to the bedposts still in this position.