Terra (in) Firma

My last job in the Regular Army was Recruiting and Publicity Officer for the line infantry regiments of Wales (The Royal Welch Fusiliers and The Royal Regiment of Wales). I was based at The Prince Of Wales' Division Depot, Crickhowell, South Wales, had two teams of soldiers - one for each regiment, and a mobile display vehicle which travelled the length and breadth of Wales at all times of the year except mid-winter.
One of the places we visited was a pleasant little town near Swansea. Council officials were most helpful and allowed us to use the municipal park which comprised ornamental gardens, tennis courts, bowling green, cricket wicket and a rugby pitch. The mobile display wagon and the shooting range (in the back of a truck) were the first to arrive and it was not long before children were attracted to the park like wasps to a jam pot.
I was talking to some soldiers on the site when I became aware that the turf upon which I stood seemed to move when people passed by. I jumped a few inches off the ground and my return to earth set the soldiers wobbling like a set of near missed skittles.
It was then that Mr Ieuan (pronounced - Yiy-an) Thomas, the Chief Environmental Officer of the borough greeted me. "Hello Major Smith, everything alright then?" I assured him that things were in order and that we were looking forward to a good day. "There's only one problem," I said. "The ground seems to wobble. Was there ever a coal mine here and is it possible we could be standing on a covered over shaft?" I made another leap and the colour drained from Mr Thomas's face as he wobbled like a piece of jelly. He and his ancestors had lived in the valley for generations and after some thought he said: "Not to my knowledge have their been collieries. Potteries - yes, but no coal mines."
We were joined by the Borough Engineer - Mr Iorweth (pronounced - Yorrweth) Evans. He agreed about 'potteries' but said he could not pronounce about a coal mine as he and his ancestors had not lived in the valley as long as the family of Mr Thomas. "I could find out for sure when I get back to my office," he said. "We've got records going back for centuries." Ieuan would have been happy to let old pots lie, but borough engineers are an inquisitive breed and Iorweth walked across to the pavilion and brought back a long metal rod with a loop on the end. Standing on the steps of the display vehicle, he raised his arms above his head and drove the rod into the ground. No undue force was required or used to drive the eight foot rod through the turf as far as its loop. Iorweth withdrew the rod and we inspected particles of black stuff which clung to it. "Peat," said Ieuan, and then as an after-thought - "could be charcoal though." Iorweth picked up a few pieces and agreed with his colleague. It was my turn, so I inspected some of the black matter and noticed that it did not crumble like the rest. "Coal!" I said, "and it looks like good quality anthracite to me." The two borough officials gaped like a couple of goldfish, but then they closed ranks when they remembered the many occasions the ground had been used for fairs, carnivals and rugby matches. "You'll be alright, have no fear," they said in unison.
Despite their assurances, I did not feel they were entirely convinced. The display vehicles could have been moved to a safer area near the bowling green but wherever I jumped on the rugby pitch, the ground wobbled - besides, I was getting some funny looks as I leapt around the park like a demented frog. Taking the easy course, and assuring myself that if the ground was going to collapse it would surely have done so when the band in their fifty-seater coach passed by, I decided to carry on.
The Mayor of the borough, a charming elderly lady, was our chief guest at the show we put on that evening. The hour long performance included a display of foot and arms drill, gymnastics, mock battle and Beating Retreat by the Band and Drums. More than a hundred soldiers, plus the regimental goat, pounded the turf during the finale. I do not know if she had been told or even felt for herself the undulating movement of the ground. If she did, she said nothing and, as she had lived near the park all her life, she was most probably used to it.
She certainly did not appreciate the reason why I kept my camera at the ready during the performance. The Band and Drums. regimental mascot, Mayor, Councillors - and maybe me as well - disappearing through the hallowed turf of the town's rugby pitch may have given me the opportunity to take the picture of my life.