Ah, the good ol' days... mine were from '65-'71 here in Toronto. My English master doubled as the cadet battalion (we paraded 500 on average) Bren Gun instructor and also happened to be an English tank commander captured in Normandy. He had some pretty amazing tales when you could get him sidetracked, but what I remember most was both the classroom and field instruction for his ignorant, fledgling Bren teams (we had six in total). He was the same guy who appointed me Battalion Armourer & Range Officer for my last year at the college... I had to range qualify all 500 of my mates and had the only other key to the armoury, which held six Brens, a dozen No.7 Rifles, about 150 No.4 Rifles (including two complete sniper equipments), 10 C1A1s, about a dozen C1 SMGs and several hundred training rifles. Between chasing women and spending my time in the armoury and on the range, I'm surprised I even passed that year...
Our Latin master/rugger instructor was a British Royal Marine who was involved in the U.S. Marines' retreat from the Chosin Reservoir in Korea - a short, jovial, fireplug-type who had a biting wit which hid the fact that he had an underlying mean streak a mile wide - the phrase "cheerful penchant for violence" seems to apply here. I idolised him.
There was another chap in the infantry who lost a leg late in the war but that never stopped him, although he didn't teach, just did admin at the school. Our PT master was another Royal Marine, again barrel-chested and bound and determined to
make you do what he wanted.
There were more as well, although those three are the ones I remember best.
