Combat Engineering
Mentioning Gibraltar Barracks the other week had me thinking in the car to and from work. Like I said, this was a very physically and mentally demanding time for all soldiers involved and it had it’s extreme lows but also its highs.
I’ll start with the most upsetting time for me.
The British Army in my opinion is probably the best trained Army in the world. At the time when I was in if you fucked up you got thumped so hard that you would never fuck up in the same way again. One guy was even made to lie down whilst the troop sergeant pissed on him! Luckily we were on a freezing exercise so for a moment he did get a slight respite from the freezing cold. And in training team spirit would often be channelled through its weakest member, often with dark consequences.
One day we were out running carrying a telegraph pole between 8 of us. I was very fit in those days so wasn’t suffering too much but one of the lads, a tall gangly and pleasantly different fellow with the nickname ‘Kaffir’ because of his South African accent, was suffering more than everyone else. To encourage us to move faster the Directing Staff (DS) were hitting us with golf clubs and threatening us with all sorts of ROP’s (Restriction Of Privileges). At least 5 other members of the team were struggling big time too, just not quite as much as Kaffir. (I wasn’t comfortable at the time using that name, never mind now!). In a final effort to get us to work better as a team the DS instructed us to drop the telegraph pole and pick up Kaffir instead. I knew this wasn’t about to get better for him, not in the slightest. He was hoisted up above our heads and we were made to run. People were suffering, and they were angry. You don’t get any reaction from a telegraph pole when you punch or pinch it and you can call it all the names under the sun, it feels no pain or shame. The difference between humans and telegraph poles was on the curriculum that day and part of my faith in humanity was lost. Kaffir screamed as the punches landed on him and he cried until the early hours of the morning. His bruises remained with him for weeks, and if it wasn’t for his strength of mind I’m pretty sure he would have collapsed right after that run.
The replacement of the telegraph pole for Kaffir was a blessing for me, he was far lighter obviously, but I would like to think that even if I was feeling as knackered as everyone else I still wouldn’t have lashed out at any human being like the other guys did.
Saying that, there was one chap who used to piss me off. Before every physical exercise task he would put his flip flops, towel and wash bag in a shower cubicle giving the impression that he had laid claim to its ownership whilst everyone else would have to queue and wait their turn. He was like some stereotypical German using his towel to claim a sun lounger. And he had a rubber plant which he named! Well I was having none of it. One morning I was the last to leave the building and as I exited I flushed his towel, wash bag and flip flops down the toilet and cut all the leaves off his rubber plant. I’m not proud of this but I must admit that I did feel a modicum of satisfaction from the heinous act.
Anyway, on a lighter note….
One amazing thing I found out about myself during this time was that I could play the harmonica. I was a complete natural and needed no training whatsoever. The Housemartins were particular favourites of mine at the time and they had a number of tunes that featured the harmonica, and I could play all of them instantly. One day my best Army friend Dave Cant came into my room and picked up the instrument. He began to sing;
“I know a song that pisses everybody off.”
Blast on the harmonica
“Everybody off”
Blast on the harmonica
“Everybody off”….
And he repeated this for about 30 minutes. There were 3 of us in the room and his actions didn’t register with us once, we were all completely numb to it. This frustrated Dave a little and that’s why he just got louder and louder and began to incorporate a silly dance to go with his tune. After half an hour the door was brutally kicked open. A large and very pissed off Corporal strode into the room, grabbed Dave by the scruff off the neck, complete with harmonica, and took him away for several days to a military jail. And even though he didn’t piss everyone off he certainly knew a song that pissed one person off, the wrong one at that. And I didn’t ever see my harmonica again.
Another time we were learning about landing craft and the procedure to land them on the shore quickly and effectively. Essentially there are 2 roles, the Commander and the Pointer Man. The Commander drives the boat to the shore and when he’s there he gives the command “Pointer Man Out”. On that command the Pointer Man jumps out of the boat with a rope attached to the boat and he secures the boat to the shore, simple. We were all taking turns at both roles but Michael Annis hadn’t been able to have a turn at being Pointer Man. When the DS asked if everyone had had a turn at being both roles Michael Annis put his hand up and said that he hadn’t been the Pointer Man yet. I don’t think the DS wanted to hear this, I think he was looking forward to a cup of tea. “Right, grab the rope Annis”, said the Corporal adopting the role of Commander, and he powered the boat to the middle of the lake. “Pointer Man Out”, the Commander shouted. We all giggled. “POINTER MAN OUT!” the commander shouted again. We stopped giggling whilst Annis looked both puzzled and frightened at the commander. “Don’t make me come and beat you to death with this fucking oar Annis. POINTER MAN OUT!”. Annis jumped and it was as if he was submerged for about a minute. All that remained was his beret floating on the still waters whilst we all giggled in silence and without expression. He eventually surfaced panicking and covered in weed and shit. This was only 10 o’clock in the morning too and he had to complete the remainder of the day sodden.
The Farnborough air show was taking place that day and occasionally we got to witness spectacular feats by a variety of air craft. Dave and I were having a discussion about the smoke trails on the wings of the aircraft, he believing that it was caused by vapour in the air and I by display smoke. Neither of us would submit to the other person’s argument and the discussion became heated between us. “Shut the Fuck up you two”, interrupted a Corporal to whom we paid very little attention. We continued calling each other ‘Retards’ until the Corporal snapped. He grabbed us both, banged our heads together and took us to a mooring sitting me on one side and Dave on the other. Half tyres were strung together to prevent boats from smashing against the sides and 2 tyres were sat about doing nothing. The corporal made us wear a tyre each on our heads and sit motionless for 2 hours. I could see Dave through the hole in my tyre and I had never seen anything funnier. I spent the 2 hours weeping furiously with laughter, it was torturous, and I felt drained. Right up to this day I have never laughed so hard for so long. In hindsight I think he was right about the vapour theory.
I’ll start with the most upsetting time for me.
The British Army in my opinion is probably the best trained Army in the world. At the time when I was in if you fucked up you got thumped so hard that you would never fuck up in the same way again. One guy was even made to lie down whilst the troop sergeant pissed on him! Luckily we were on a freezing exercise so for a moment he did get a slight respite from the freezing cold. And in training team spirit would often be channelled through its weakest member, often with dark consequences.
One day we were out running carrying a telegraph pole between 8 of us. I was very fit in those days so wasn’t suffering too much but one of the lads, a tall gangly and pleasantly different fellow with the nickname ‘Kaffir’ because of his South African accent, was suffering more than everyone else. To encourage us to move faster the Directing Staff (DS) were hitting us with golf clubs and threatening us with all sorts of ROP’s (Restriction Of Privileges). At least 5 other members of the team were struggling big time too, just not quite as much as Kaffir. (I wasn’t comfortable at the time using that name, never mind now!). In a final effort to get us to work better as a team the DS instructed us to drop the telegraph pole and pick up Kaffir instead. I knew this wasn’t about to get better for him, not in the slightest. He was hoisted up above our heads and we were made to run. People were suffering, and they were angry. You don’t get any reaction from a telegraph pole when you punch or pinch it and you can call it all the names under the sun, it feels no pain or shame. The difference between humans and telegraph poles was on the curriculum that day and part of my faith in humanity was lost. Kaffir screamed as the punches landed on him and he cried until the early hours of the morning. His bruises remained with him for weeks, and if it wasn’t for his strength of mind I’m pretty sure he would have collapsed right after that run.
The replacement of the telegraph pole for Kaffir was a blessing for me, he was far lighter obviously, but I would like to think that even if I was feeling as knackered as everyone else I still wouldn’t have lashed out at any human being like the other guys did.
Saying that, there was one chap who used to piss me off. Before every physical exercise task he would put his flip flops, towel and wash bag in a shower cubicle giving the impression that he had laid claim to its ownership whilst everyone else would have to queue and wait their turn. He was like some stereotypical German using his towel to claim a sun lounger. And he had a rubber plant which he named! Well I was having none of it. One morning I was the last to leave the building and as I exited I flushed his towel, wash bag and flip flops down the toilet and cut all the leaves off his rubber plant. I’m not proud of this but I must admit that I did feel a modicum of satisfaction from the heinous act.
Anyway, on a lighter note….
One amazing thing I found out about myself during this time was that I could play the harmonica. I was a complete natural and needed no training whatsoever. The Housemartins were particular favourites of mine at the time and they had a number of tunes that featured the harmonica, and I could play all of them instantly. One day my best Army friend Dave Cant came into my room and picked up the instrument. He began to sing;
“I know a song that pisses everybody off.”
Blast on the harmonica
“Everybody off”
Blast on the harmonica
“Everybody off”….
And he repeated this for about 30 minutes. There were 3 of us in the room and his actions didn’t register with us once, we were all completely numb to it. This frustrated Dave a little and that’s why he just got louder and louder and began to incorporate a silly dance to go with his tune. After half an hour the door was brutally kicked open. A large and very pissed off Corporal strode into the room, grabbed Dave by the scruff off the neck, complete with harmonica, and took him away for several days to a military jail. And even though he didn’t piss everyone off he certainly knew a song that pissed one person off, the wrong one at that. And I didn’t ever see my harmonica again.
Another time we were learning about landing craft and the procedure to land them on the shore quickly and effectively. Essentially there are 2 roles, the Commander and the Pointer Man. The Commander drives the boat to the shore and when he’s there he gives the command “Pointer Man Out”. On that command the Pointer Man jumps out of the boat with a rope attached to the boat and he secures the boat to the shore, simple. We were all taking turns at both roles but Michael Annis hadn’t been able to have a turn at being Pointer Man. When the DS asked if everyone had had a turn at being both roles Michael Annis put his hand up and said that he hadn’t been the Pointer Man yet. I don’t think the DS wanted to hear this, I think he was looking forward to a cup of tea. “Right, grab the rope Annis”, said the Corporal adopting the role of Commander, and he powered the boat to the middle of the lake. “Pointer Man Out”, the Commander shouted. We all giggled. “POINTER MAN OUT!” the commander shouted again. We stopped giggling whilst Annis looked both puzzled and frightened at the commander. “Don’t make me come and beat you to death with this fucking oar Annis. POINTER MAN OUT!”. Annis jumped and it was as if he was submerged for about a minute. All that remained was his beret floating on the still waters whilst we all giggled in silence and without expression. He eventually surfaced panicking and covered in weed and shit. This was only 10 o’clock in the morning too and he had to complete the remainder of the day sodden.
The Farnborough air show was taking place that day and occasionally we got to witness spectacular feats by a variety of air craft. Dave and I were having a discussion about the smoke trails on the wings of the aircraft, he believing that it was caused by vapour in the air and I by display smoke. Neither of us would submit to the other person’s argument and the discussion became heated between us. “Shut the Fuck up you two”, interrupted a Corporal to whom we paid very little attention. We continued calling each other ‘Retards’ until the Corporal snapped. He grabbed us both, banged our heads together and took us to a mooring sitting me on one side and Dave on the other. Half tyres were strung together to prevent boats from smashing against the sides and 2 tyres were sat about doing nothing. The corporal made us wear a tyre each on our heads and sit motionless for 2 hours. I could see Dave through the hole in my tyre and I had never seen anything funnier. I spent the 2 hours weeping furiously with laughter, it was torturous, and I felt drained. Right up to this day I have never laughed so hard for so long. In hindsight I think he was right about the vapour theory.
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