The long Journey: Chapter 5

I couldn’t believe it. There it was in black and white. You’ve been selected to receive a place at the summer camp starting 20 June. Your joining instructions will arrive two days beforehand. Make sure you have your affairs in order. Sure enough a second envelope arrived. It enclosed a C5 manila envelope simply marked on the front with a large letter 4 and enclosing a key locker and the following instructions. ‘On the morning of 20 June you will dress lightly with plimsolls, slacks and shirt. Bring no watch, phone or diary as they will be taken from you. Go to the left luggage at Paddington Station at 9.00h and open the locker for this key. Remove the bag of clothes you’ll find, go to the Gents and in a lockup change into these, replacing your own clothes in the bag and then in the locker. Put the key with your £150 in the envelope and seek out a motorbike rider who will be standing at the entrance to the platforms near platform 9. Give him the password and he will give you the response. Swap packages and board the train stated on the enclosed ticket.’

Gliding over the viaduct at Hanwell I had plenty of time to reflect. Sitting there in a tracksuit with the number 4 on the back, trainers and nothing else I realised I had no means of identification, no cash and a standard one-way ticket. I felt exhilarated to be doing something bold and exciting for the first time in my life but at the same time nervous as to what might be waiting for me when I got off the train; I felt my bollocks rise and my cock thicken and was pleased to have a table seat. Apart from a packed lunch and my ticket there were no other instructions in the envelope.

After what seemed an interminable journey I stepped down from the train into what seemed like a deserted station yard, except that a windowless white van was parked in the opposite corner with its doors open. A group of track suited men, myself included, made for the van where we were ordered to get in and sit on the floor. The door slammed and we were off. A leg touched mine and I was grateful for the contact. I could tell from the motion of the van and the sound of the engine that we travelled some distance before turning off on a windy uneven track up hairpin bends, eventually arriving at a building. The van drove into a courtyard where someone banged on the van side and barked: “Out, out, out!” We were made to line up facing someone out of Tom of Finland in jeans, boots and white tee-shirt. “Well, boyos, welcome to Camp Endeavour. I am Dai but you will call me boss. This,” indicating to a thickset guy in khaki tee-shirt and camo bottoms with an auburn curly beard who obviously kept his weight down by vigorous exercises, “is Bert and this,” pointing to a wiry middle-eastern looking guy with dark flashing eyes and meticulously trimmed beard “is Ahmed. They are my assistants and you will call them Corp. Some of you are here for three weeks as we judge you by stamina, willingness and achievement while the lucky ones stay on for a further three weeks. We have few rules. Most importantly you will follow our instructions implicitly and without question. You will not leave here without permission and you will not communicate with each other except in the pursuance of the tasks we set you.” Finally he asked, “is anyone here able to cook?” I put my hand up thinking it would be an easy option. “OK. Now Bert will show you to your quarters and explain how the system works. I hope you have a pleasant stay.” With that he walked off.