History

Jim in 1962/1963

I thought I would write a little overview of my History. First of five children to wonderful parents Stan and Dolly Orman and only one to emigrate to the United States. At the ripe old age of fifteen joined the Army, and was first stationed at Denbury Camp, Newton Abbot, Devon. For a little over two years I enjoyed racing over obstacle courses, walking over dartmoor, swimming in a freezing cold ocean at six in the morning, and all the while learning to be a signalman for the Royal Corps of Signals.

Below is a picture of me with fellow recruits in September 1962.

Repelling or Absailing

While at Denbury, Church was mandatory, every Sunday morning in full dress uniform the troops were marched to the Church for the service. However, the rock climbing club met on Sunday mornings and were trucked out to Tor's or Rock outcroppings fit for climbing all over the southwest of England. I became a very good climber and an even better absailer those Sunday mornings. After leaving Denbury, I went to Catterick Camp in Yorkshire for some intense communication training before being 'posted' to 602 Signal Troop (Special Communications) located in Gloucester. 602 provided communications for the SAS, Intelligence corps, and various other special groups.

First Assignment

My first assignment from 602 was to Borneo, to provide communications for both the New Zealand SAS and the British SAS, during the confrontation with Indonesia and Borneo/Sarawak. Days in the jungle and interacting with the local people (Ibans) was an experience I will never forget. The jungle had ferns with very sharp thorns that easily sliced through clothing or skin. Komodo dragons six or seven feet long crashing through the undergrowth seemingly unaware that you are there. Orangutans, and other monkeys swinging through the branches alerting you of other humans in the area. The beaches of nearly white sand and an ocean of clear clear water only marred by the occasional oil rig on the horizon.

Bahrein, Persian Gulf

On assignment from 602 in Bahrein, was one of the occasions where my unit did not wear uniforms and drove an unmarked land rover. The shifts were long but the airconditioning was great. We would sunbathe on the roof in 140+ degree heat, I believe the record was 21 minutes. As you can see we did our own laundry- by hand. There was plenty of opportunity to water ski, and I would spend a lot of my free time on the water, and often as not time scraping off the oil from my body after the skiing event. Clumps of raw oil floated on the ocean and polluted the beaches, but we made do.

Trouble in the Cayman Islands

In 1970 the government expected trouble, and a warship was summoned, two of us were sent to provide the communications between the government and the warship from a secure and obscure location. Nothing came of it. We made the most of our time there driving our Mini-Moke around the island photographing the many shipwrecks just off shore and enjoying the local cuisine.

Grand Cayman

This is one of the local maps of Grand Cayman, showing the location of the many shipwrecks offshore, many of which can be seen clearly from the island at low tide. The waters are crystal clear and a joy to dive in. However the hotel we stayed at had no beach just what appeared to be volcanic rock, when the waves crashed against them the spray leapt about ten to twenty feet in the air providing a sight unlike the gentle rolling waves on the beach.

Turks and Caicos islands

In 1973, I was sent to South Caicos, situated at the end of the florida keys chain of islands, to provide a communications link for the Royal Engineers while they built water catchment basins to provide fresh water to the inhabitants. This was a hearts and mind assignment, the locals came to love us, and appreciated all we did for them. Several side jobs were undertaken to raise the standard of living for these wonderful people. My room-mate, we were in tents, was a diesel mechanic, and he spent his time trying to repair some of the many abandoned vehicles on the island, with success. He was able to order filters, gasket kits, and other pieces of hardware to get them up and going, used tires were fairly easy to come by as the fishing boats always had a good supply to protect their boats. No licenses or registration was required on the island so once a vehicle was up and running, it was put to work. Buildings generally were of the corrugated metal and scrap wood variety, dirt floors, and glass bottle windows. With the influx of pallets of supplies for the building of the catchment basins, nothing was wasted, occasionally there was excess concrete left in the mixer, which was used for the building of walls and the occasional floor. The Admirals Arms, a hotel/restaurant/bar, did well with all the British Soldiers as regular customers. The bank, Barclays bank, was situated in a wooden building about 20 feet by 15 feet in size, did more business in the few months I was there than it had since it opened. The fishermen benefitted by the soldiers desire for exotic fish dinners, shark, barracuda, and moray.

Belfast

After my time with special forces had ended, I was posted (transferred) to Belfast, Northern Ireland, to an Intelligence Corps. Unit. A unit consisting of about ten men whose job it was to gather information about all militant groups both north and south of the border. Their efforts were very successful, and were recognized by visits by parliamentarians from Whitehall, London. Methods of gathering this information, included but not limited to informants, surveillance, association, and undercover. One of our best undercover agents was Harry (may or may not be his real name). Harry was literally fearless, and one situation he and I and one other found ourselves in led me to worry he would do something courageous but stupid. Harry, Pete, and I, all short fellows under 5’7’’, were out drinking in a (new to us) bar on the outskirts of Belfast. We had been there more than an hour and had not seen any servicemen enter the bar during our stay, which in itself was not unusual given the proliferation of bars in Belfast. Somewhere close to 9pm the bar started getting busy, noticing the clientele were totally male, Pete suggested we drink up and leave. Before we knew it our table was the center of attention, in particular the three of us. We were invited to put on blindfolds and were led for what seemed like ten minutes, but may have been a lot less, through doors, up and down stairs, into the cool of the night and back inside, finally down some stairs where our blindfolds were removed in front of a huge lighted wall map of Northern Ireland, with what seemed to be about fifteen or so white crosses on the map. I knew that apart from paying attention to our host, each of us was assessing our personal situation. I was not a religious person, however I was praying that Harry would not do anything that would lesson our chances of getting out of this mess. There were about twelve or so, mostly tall, healthy looking Irishmen guarding our welfare in what we assumed to be a basement. Our host was talking about the white crosses and how they represented one of their men the British had killed. At the time I did not feel sympathetic to his cause, but since then I have had time to reconsider and now feel very sorry for these militant groups, as individuals, fighting for what their fathers, and their father’s fathers believed. Now the cause of each faction being so distorted, that hat for their island brothers is all they cling to. Harry, Pete, and I assessed the situation and decided that now was not the time, there were too many of them, so patience was the order. Once again we were blindfolded and led up, down, in, out, and finally back to the bar, unblindfolded and released. Our boss was very interested in our report, we had recognized no one, and no faces had matched those on the ‘felons wall’ in our building. We believed the group to be part of the ‘Ulster Freedom Fighters,’ but were never able to confirm this. I was in Northern Ireland for only six months, during that time I learned to respect and like many of the Irish people. A strong people whose lives were being torn in multiple directions, who were still able to form friendships with the English. As you read the history of the Irish people in the 20th century, you will find that the Post Office is central to the troubles. Harry, Pete, and I, I believe, were the only English invitees to an annual Post Office social, a white shirt and tie affair, which included speakers (non-political), entertainment (Irish Music), and plenty of good Irish food. We made many acquaintances that night, warm friendships in a relaxed arena of traditional enemies. I believe that every person has the capacity for good in the very worst of environments.