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14lamented, Mike Jones turned up, having also been allocated to Hut 153 by the clipboard.Some discussion ensued, accusations of impostor-ship were leveled, and I was redirected to C Squadron and Hut 163. After retrieving my worldly possessions from their various resting-places, I trudged over to 163 to meet my new colleagues and mentor. Once again, I unpacked my bags and distributed the contents around the very limited locations allotted to me, and met some hut-mates (John Lloyd, Kevin Dillon and Martin Johnson) and the mentor, Shahid Khan. Cue the entrance of Barry Jones, and the whole rigmarole started again.My final resting place was D Squadron and Hut 146. I am sure I would have gone via A Squadron, had there been a Jones in that illustrious unit; thankfully, there was not. Our mentor in Hut 146 was Dave Booth. Being an equipper, he knew a lot about stacking kit on shelves and in cupboards, and showed me the ropes. By now, I was becoming quite expert myself.I suppose such administrative hoo-hah should have led me to question the efficiency of this military organisation to which I was about to consign most of my adult life; curiously, I don%u2019t recall that it did %u2013 I was probably too overwhelmed. It also begs the question of how the debacle came about: alphabetical order doesn%u2019t do it, since DM should have come between BR and MS; I shall now never know.Belonging to three Squadron-Entries in 3 hours was something of an achievement. On the plus side, I got to meet more people early on.The moral of the tale is probably %u201cNever turn up first%u201d. Dim JonesBall%u2019s Arrival - or a Load of BallsOn that fateful Sunday, 27th March 1966, we were living near Huntingdon, so my parents elected to deliver me to Cranwell by car, which promised to be easier for me than the alternatives. However, as