From the left. Yam Man Yau. Ray Carpenter. Mr. Au Ting. who is the secretary of the RHKP old collegues Society. Yam (so I heard) eventually gave away all his worldly goods and became a monk in the hills of the Mainland somewhere but together..... the things we went thro, the scary things we did, the life and death things we dealt with, it binds you together in ways you cannot imagine. What people, what a time, what an experience. It wouldn't even fit in a book. I ramble on but if I didn't then the reader, you, would have no idea of the times we had in those days.
You old bugger! How the devil are you? You got me into the Marksman's Unit after you'd seen me key-holing .22 rounds at the Lower Range at PTS all those years ago.
Steve. I didn't think any of the old school was alive or read these stories. The only reason for the pictures and ramblings now are to record them so that people are aware of the things that happened before they are lost forever. I have your email so I will have to give you a call. I still remember the time I took a .22 rifle shooting class on the upper range and once the basics of safety and marksmanship had been shown/instilled the targets went from the paper targets to the shovel and spades used by the range caretakers (as they made a tink noise when hit and raised a cheer) and when they turned up for work, they couldn't because the tools had lots of holes in them. I got called into the PTS Comdts office to explain how bullet holes came to be there (rust and wear?) and pay for new ones. Good times. see I nearly forgot that tail. Good luck speak soon. Ray.... If I remember right you were also part of that that class as well and if I push the memory... you started it and it became instantly popular and everyone had a go and the badly damaged tools I buried in the hillside and prob. still there today. ( thinking about it you still owe me a couple of quid(joke)) Love ya Ray.
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marksman unit.
From the left. Yam Man Yau. Ray Carpenter. Mr. Au Ting. who is the secretary of the RHKP old collegues Society. Yam (so I heard) eventually gave away all his worldly goods and became a monk in the hills of the Mainland somewhere but together..... the things we went thro, the scary things we did, the life and death things we dealt with, it binds you together in ways you cannot imagine. What people, what a time, what an experience. It wouldn't even fit in a book. I ramble on but if I didn't then the reader, you, would have no idea of the times we had in those days.
Goodnes Gracious Me!!
Ray,
You old bugger! How the devil are you? You got me into the Marksman's Unit after you'd seen me key-holing .22 rounds at the Lower Range at PTS all those years ago.
Contact me at <brown.sg@btinternet.com>
Steve
Ray and Steve. reunion
Steve. I didn't think any of the old school was alive or read these stories. The only reason for the pictures and ramblings now are to record them so that people are aware of the things that happened before they are lost forever. I have your email so I will have to give you a call. I still remember the time I took a .22 rifle shooting class on the upper range and once the basics of safety and marksmanship had been shown/instilled the targets went from the paper targets to the shovel and spades used by the range caretakers (as they made a tink noise when hit and raised a cheer) and when they turned up for work, they couldn't because the tools had lots of holes in them. I got called into the PTS Comdts office to explain how bullet holes came to be there (rust and wear?) and pay for new ones. Good times. see I nearly forgot that tail. Good luck speak soon. Ray.... If I remember right you were also part of that that class as well and if I push the memory... you started it and it became instantly popular and everyone had a go and the badly damaged tools I buried in the hillside and prob. still there today. ( thinking about it you still owe me a couple of quid(joke)) Love ya Ray.