30 Years Ago
09.09.16
I will struggle to remember what I actually did last weekend but I think I remember every minute of this day 30 years ago. It was the day I joined the army.
My mother reluctantly drove me to Preston station shortly after 09:00hrs, she didn’t want me to join in the first place. We had a tearful goodbye before I jumped on the train to Bristol Parkway on platform 4. I stood by the door waiting for a seat to become free, switched on my Sony Walkman and listened to Chuck Berry and other classic artists from the 50’s, I was a little behind the times when it came to music! After the first stop a number of people departed the train and seats became available. I took the first seat I saw and found myself sat next to a familiar face, Father Ambrose, a priest from school. He was a lovely man and I remember him saying that he would say some prayers for me, and I thought, “I’m gonna need more than a few flippin prayers, how about an escape plan to the Vatican or summat?” He eventually became a bishop!
A few changes later I arrived at Chepstow station on a train full of young boys. Some boys were full of bravado and confidence, some boys were crying, I did neither, not yet anyway. There were Sergeants waiting for us who with a firm but purposely nice attitude gathered us up onto coaches and took us to Beachley Barracks. We were processed. Paperwork was administered and we all got haircuts. We were measured by a tailor who did time in Colditz! We were then shepherded into a large hall where we were welcomed by the camp commandant and a Sergeant Major told the following story:
“A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold that the bird froze and fell to the ground in a large field. While it was lying there, a cow came by and dropped a load of hot, steaming dung on it. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of shit, it began to realize how warm it was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung. The cat promptly dug the bird out, killed him and ate him.
Management Lesson: Not everyone who drops shit on you is your enemy. Not everyone who pulls you out of shit is your friend. And when you're warm and happy in your pile of shit, keep your mouth shut!”
I didn’t know what it meant at the time, I simply interpreted it as “You’re going to have a hard time here, like it and keep your mouth shut!”.
We then got issued kit, had tea, and then a man showed us all how to wash our bellends. He also taught us how to lace our boots, iron clothes and make a bed pack.
Afterwards we were encouraged to ring home and write a letter. I couldn’t ring home. I was missing home too much and if I heard my Mothers voice I would surely have started crying, I wrote a letter instead.
It did me good the Army.
I will struggle to remember what I actually did last weekend but I think I remember every minute of this day 30 years ago. It was the day I joined the army.
My mother reluctantly drove me to Preston station shortly after 09:00hrs, she didn’t want me to join in the first place. We had a tearful goodbye before I jumped on the train to Bristol Parkway on platform 4. I stood by the door waiting for a seat to become free, switched on my Sony Walkman and listened to Chuck Berry and other classic artists from the 50’s, I was a little behind the times when it came to music! After the first stop a number of people departed the train and seats became available. I took the first seat I saw and found myself sat next to a familiar face, Father Ambrose, a priest from school. He was a lovely man and I remember him saying that he would say some prayers for me, and I thought, “I’m gonna need more than a few flippin prayers, how about an escape plan to the Vatican or summat?” He eventually became a bishop!
A few changes later I arrived at Chepstow station on a train full of young boys. Some boys were full of bravado and confidence, some boys were crying, I did neither, not yet anyway. There were Sergeants waiting for us who with a firm but purposely nice attitude gathered us up onto coaches and took us to Beachley Barracks. We were processed. Paperwork was administered and we all got haircuts. We were measured by a tailor who did time in Colditz! We were then shepherded into a large hall where we were welcomed by the camp commandant and a Sergeant Major told the following story:
“A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold that the bird froze and fell to the ground in a large field. While it was lying there, a cow came by and dropped a load of hot, steaming dung on it. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of shit, it began to realize how warm it was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung. The cat promptly dug the bird out, killed him and ate him.
Management Lesson: Not everyone who drops shit on you is your enemy. Not everyone who pulls you out of shit is your friend. And when you're warm and happy in your pile of shit, keep your mouth shut!”
I didn’t know what it meant at the time, I simply interpreted it as “You’re going to have a hard time here, like it and keep your mouth shut!”.
We then got issued kit, had tea, and then a man showed us all how to wash our bellends. He also taught us how to lace our boots, iron clothes and make a bed pack.
Afterwards we were encouraged to ring home and write a letter. I couldn’t ring home. I was missing home too much and if I heard my Mothers voice I would surely have started crying, I wrote a letter instead.
It did me good the Army.
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