Memoirs of an Airman: Six Years of Drunken Debauchery

By Terry O'Halloran

Before you decide to buy this book, please don’t expect any hero type action. You will find none. If you’re easily offended then save your money, This is the side of the Air Force you will not read about. Its full-on alcohol fueled antics on and off duty. The highs and lows of military life but also the mad episodes that made up the RAF before PC changed it. You will laugh at the stunts he pulled, sigh at how incredibly stupid he was to throw away a promising career. Be angry at influence over his junior peers, but you will enjoy the trip as you follow him during his six years in uniform and the friends he made. This Air Force has gone as the world changed but the memories are captured in these pages for the reader to enjoy and share his experience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781728375274

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© 2022 Terry O’Halloran. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/22/2022

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7528-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7527-4 (e)

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1RAF Swinderby. School of Recruit Training

Chapter 2Arrival and new family

Chapter 3Uniform

Chapter 4Let the games begin

Chapter 5Weapons and Ground Defence Training

Chapter 6Out in the field

Chapter 7Final phase and senior flight

Chapter 8RAF Hereford. Trade Training.

Chapter 9Love and 24-hour pass

Chapter 10Bar finals and postings

Chapter 11My first posting. RAF Staff College Bracknell

Chapter 12Jankers

Chapter 13SAC Shadbolt and Sgt Lord

Chapter 14The bandsmen club

Chapter 15RAF WARMA

Chapter 16Foster, Davis and walking.

Chapter 17Functions

Chapter 18Travel and the night life

Chapter 19RAF Bruggen (three year piss up)

Chapter 20New Horizons

Chapter 21Field Kitchens RAF Wildenrath

Chapter 22Single living on Bruggen

Chapter 23Roermond Our Second home

Chapter 24Piss up with the pilots

Chapter 25Exercise, Exercise, Exercise. Exercise,

Chapter 26NATO’s subterranean base Tongeren

Chapter 27The Falklands April to June 82

Chapter 28The year is 1982

Chapter 29Shit gets serious.

Chapter 30It’s just work and BFBS

Chapter 31Off duty Fraus night

Chapter 32HRH Prince Philip

Chapter 33I am just going out for fags.

Chapter 34SHAPE

Chapter 35Time off duty

Chapter 36RAF Lossiemouth

Chapter 37Sea, Surf and Deci red.

Chapter 38RAF Police (Wankers)

Chapter 39December 1983 Party time

Chapter 40RAF Waddington 84

Chapter 41The dark days

Chapter 42My last few days wearing an RAF Uniform

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To my beautiful long-suffering wife Donna, you have always supported me, carried me and been there when I needed someone. You are and always will be my world.

To Paul Evans. (Spudbelly) You are the best friend I could ask for. I know when the chips are down one call, and you will be there for me and my family.

And thanks to Michael McKeegan. You kept pushing me to write this book and without your encouragement I’m not sure I would have written it to reach the stage where it could be published.

INTRODUCTION

I grew up in a small market town in north Wiltshire called Corsham. It was a military town of sort. A Royal Naval leadership school, a large Army barracks, an RAF communication camp and the RAF police (P&SS) so seeing military uniform was as normal as civilian dress. As a child I played football for a local team and on occasion we would get a game organised, a team on the navy base against a team of ratings, or the same versus the army and air force, seeing how good the RAF food and accommodation was may have helped me set my mind on the RAF. But I was determined I was going to join up as soon as I was old enough.

I came from a humble background, from a one parent family (my mother) and three older sisters. My father was in the Army. I was only 18 months old when my parents split up and never saw him as I grew up, so it was not his army career that gave me the idea of joining the military myself. Life growing up during the sixties and seventies was hard, more so as we lived on social benefits in an area of Corsham where we were looked down on as the low life of humanity. Life was tough and, although I was very immature for my age, I did know my only chance to make anything of myself was in the services and watching war films on TV, the glamour of the RAF seemed to strike a chord in me. I was fit as I loved walking, running and swimming so I did not see that as an issue, my education on the other hand was poor and I did worry that this may cause concern.

I left school in August 1977 as a sixteen-year-old, failing my CSE’s so no qualifications, but I already knew I was going to join up and I had my heart set on the RAF. However, due to having to wait on an operation on my left hand for a childhood injury, I was held back until I was almost 18. I was employed in a local factory as an un-skilled machinist for the next couple of years before I received a letter inviting me to Bristol CIO for an interview. I was over the moon. I’d been waiting for this day to arrive since I was fifteen and counted the days till my trip. Once the day dawned, I took a train to Bristol. The interview went very quickly, lots of questions about me and my lifestyle. Do I play any sports? Am I popular? How do I spend my free time? Do I smoke? Have I got a girlfriend? It all went well, and I was told as soon as my paperwork had been processed, I would get confirmation and a start date if I passed the entrance exam and then took the oath. I passed the medical, physical and the entrance exam and was so pleased as I knew then that I could get out of Corsham and do a job that was unlike anything else on civvy street. One downside was that I wanted to be a cook, I was told that there were no vacancies at that time, but I could join up as a steward and remuster, meaning I could change trades later. I was happy with that; I accepted the role of a steward. I went back to work handed in my notice and my supervisor Kim said, if the RAF does not work out, I could have my old job back. That meant a lot to me as it told me I was doing a good job and was valued as an employee. It was very kind of my employers to offer me my job back if the RAF did not work out, but I never wanted to return to Corsham and this life, though I was happy working at JaxPal and the folk alongside me just not enough to keep me in Corsham.

I will be leaving home for the last time in just over a week. It would not take me long to pack as I had so little other than the clothes I was wearing. I bought a shaving kit, wash bag, some underwear and a couple of shirts. That was all I possessed, plus two weeks wages from the job I had just left.

Just before Christmas 1978 I had to return to Bristol. There were just two of us and this was the day we would swear an oath for Queen and Country. We did this and were given our travel warrants and information on what we must take with us, the do’s and don’ts. We did this and arranged to meet up again on the platform to take the train to Lincolnshire together. It was the 2nd of January 1979. I had my MOD travel warrant for a one-way ticket for six years......(it will unfold as I share with you my six years in the Royal Air Force.) It was my 18 birthday, and I was on cloud nine. I had two weeks wages in my pocket, a packet of 20 Rothmans a lighter, a small bag with some sandwiches and my joining instructions, to me it was a ticket to the world. I just hoped I would not fail and need to return home. Unlike today, yes, we had health and safety but also common sence, no snowflakes or all the PC we have today. We were called names, due to our colour, race, religion or even what part of the UK we came from. It was character building. It it has an ist in it it was used. You couldn’t take it, then pack up and piss off. That was the RAF I joined. So, as you read if your offended please join those who did piss off as this book is not for you.

Music plays a big part in all of our lives. I have added the music which through the years that bring back to life those days gone by, the people, places and emotions.

1978 Atom heart mother Pink Floyd, Queen Jass, Heart, Dream boat Annie Police Outlandos d’Amour

CHAPTER 1

RAF Swinderby. School of Recruit Training

W ith my bag packed at 7am on January 2 nd , 1979 my mother and stepfather drove me to Bristol Temple Meads train station. It was still very dark, and a layer of fresh snow lay on the ground. It was also very cold out. We arrived at the station in good time. It was almost 8am but still dark. The light had not yet won its fight with the night-time darkness. I made my way to the booking office with my MOD travel warrant. In return I was given a ticket, to Newark single one way. Good enough for me as I do not plan on a return trip home just yet. I would embark my train on platform one. The platform was very busy as the train pulled into the station and stopped for the commuters and other passengers to climb aboard. The train was not full but at this time of the morning rush hour, the train started to fill up with commuters at each stop on its journey. I had booked myself a seat and went in search of it through the train. As I put my case on the top rack above my head and settled down for my long train journey, a journey for me that would last six wonderful years. I wondered how many other young men like myself would be boarding trains all over the UK. I was joined by the chap who I took the oath with at Bristol CIO. He joined as a supplier. We arranged to meet up at Bristol to travel together for company to Lincoln, the train journey would take about eight hours so It was good to know I would not be sat on my own. It was a very cold January, but not once did I question what I was doing. This was the most exciting time of my young life. As we travelled further north it became colder and the train windows were freezing cold, and ice was forming on the inside of the window. It was obvious we had little in common. So, the more we travelled the less of the conversation between us until eventually it soon dried up, so I just sat looking out of the window. It was a 125 intercity train we were on and as it went further north it was rapidly filling up. It was busy but I guess that was because of the rush hour, I did wonder how many other people who had just joined our train might be going to the same place? Or maybe over the next few days not having met the standards of the training which we would be tested on could be making the journey back? The train left Birmingham taking us near to that goal of pass or fail, time will tell. We had one change of trains at Birmingham new street, and we joined a smaller train, this one we would stay on until our departure at Newark Station. It is funny as I watched the world speed by as we travelled ever nearer to Lincoln how many other men around me might also be joining up. There was a mixture of men, women and children. More people came and went but my thoughts were on the next few weeks. Once the train announced my stop it was only then that I realized just how many men were on the train all going to this station, all around the same age as me. As we disembarked the train was almost empty, it was again very dark, we’ve only about seven hours of daylight which makes the days seem short and the night long. The platform very quickly filled as the train emptied its load of recruits all fresh faced and full of hope and optimism, In the coming weeks a small proportion would be leaving here to return home empty handed. I looked around wondering where I would go from here. As we gathered on the platform a voice bellowed out over our heads. It was a chap in uniform barking orders for us to make our way to the car park, one by one our names were called, and we climbed aboard an RAF bus which would take us to the camp. It was bloody freezing as we waited in the cold with our bags, but the bus was warm, the heating must have been on for a while which was good news. It was a short drive to the camp, but it was pitch black outside so not much to see as we drove. through the Lincoln countryside. After a short drive we saw the big blue sign informing us of our arrival at the royal air force school of recruit training.

Swinderby was opened in 1940 as part of No 1 Group, bomber command. In 1950 it was then used as No 8 Flying training school.in 1964 Swinderby changed roles again to the role of recruit training. It had two hangers on one side which was turned into a gym and the other was empty but used as a training shed in bad weather, as we would find out soon enough. The runway is still intact but no longer used. It was an open camp so no large fencing, just open land as it was when it was built.

I was part of intake 36MP78 Number 2 Squadron 19 Flt. Until 14th February, unless I get back flighted this will be my new home.

For The first time in my life, I was part of something big, something special, a club you could only join by passing their selection and the training, if not you went back to civvie street and no longer part of this exclusive club. Soon we came across a sign on the side of the road, caution, troops crossing. That will be me as of tomorrow I said to myself with a smile on my face. If I get through these next six weeks, I will be joining a club which is exclusive only to those who pass this part of the process, just another step I hope I will take to go one with a career as an airman, those who fail go back home. I was not going to be the one who went home. So, we then pulled off the main road into the camp. Swinderby used to be an operational unit during the second world war and the runway was still present but no longer in use. It was a camp split by a main road. On one side there was an airfield and two large hangars, on the other side the main camp itself, H shaped buildings which were the accommodation blocks for recruits and the mess and newcomers club. This was the Naafi shop and bar for new recruits. We disembarked from the bus and were ushered into one of the two large hangers. From all sorts of backgrounds, colour height and shape, but we were all the same, we were RAF recruits. After an hour of paperwork and going from one table to another signing forms we were then led away to be escorted to our block, our home. I was put in "Hanna ‘’ block. This will be my home for the next six weeks.

CHAPTER 2

Arrival and new family

I t never once entered my head that I might fail or not make the grade, for the first time in my life I believed in myself and knew this was for me. It was around 5pm (1700) when we were taken to the airman’s mess for something to eat, as most of us were very hungry we were happy to eat the food, but it was not anything to write home about, my thoughts were, it must be better than this, maybe it was just something knocked up just for a meal to fill us for the night. Funny how it was all civilian cooks not one serviceman or woman in sight? But the food filled the hole and for that I was grateful but hopeful the food would improve by the following weeks. However, the food might not have been great but for the first time in my young life I had three hot meals a day, so I might have been disappointed, but it was better than I had had at home, so for that I was grateful. Then it was back to our billet to be told more about our stay, we were told our Service number; this will stay with me for the rest of my life. We were split into three flights, 17, 18 and 19 flights. I was placed in 19 Flt. Our DI was called Sgt Wilson I cannot recall the Cpls name, but these two men would be our mother and father for the next six weeks. The building was a H shape with two floors. Eight large dormitory type rooms, one above each other, each room held twelve empty beds 19 Flt occupied the top floor while 17 Flt had the bottom floor. 18 Flt was accommodated in another building so the rivalry between our two flights would be tested for the next few weeks. Each room was identical to the other eight which housed the recruits. Six beds on one side and six on the other, a bedside cabinet and a locker to each bed, this was our bed space, we also had a window for each bed and the most disgusting pattern on the curtains you would ever see. It looked like a bad design from the sixties. Because of the time we arrived at the camp each bed already had a mattress with a cover on a grey metal framed bad, we then went to bedding stores to be issued two single sheets, two pillows and two pillowcases, a single white blanket and two dark grey blankets all with the dark stripes running from top to bottom and a yellow bed cover. We were then taken to our block. So, our block was called Hanna . The block is our home, and we will keep it clean and tidy during our stay, there was no sign of any warm inviting carpets. As one entered the building through two wooden doors a small vestibule leading to a long corridor running to the rear of the building. On either side were three single rooms leading to a door which was a large dormitory. The stairs leading to the upper floor were the same. The walls were painted in two colours. From the floor to waist height was an RAF blue/grey and the upper part was a light blue. The stairs were just wide concrete. On the two doors both at the front and back had a large brass kick plate and two brass plates next to a brass handle, all were bright and clean. Each of the large dormitory rooms had twelve beds, six on each side and four windows on either side. The room was well lie with four large strip lights. The rooms were kept warm with six large radiators. The two DIs will ensure this. And then put into our rooms with another eleven guys, eleven complete strangers, but we would all pull together and help each other through the training. We wanted to pass out as we arrived as one full flight, unfortunately for some this would not happen. There were three flights making up 2 Sqn, this was our intake, 17, 18 and 19 flights. I was put in 19 flights which were billeted in Hanna block, 17 flights had the ground floor, and 19 flights occupied the first floor. There were 12 to a room and we just needed to pick a bed, which was where we would sleep for the next six weeks, that bed space was my new home. I picked a second bed on the right as you entered the room, there was already a mattress cover on each bed, the bedding we had been issued was then put on each bed as the Sgt demonstrated how we would be expected to make our beds from here on in. It was the classic style adopted in hospitals. We were issued with two sheets, two pillowcases, one white and two dark blankets and a bed cover. Once the Sgt had finished, we then had to make our beds as was just shown and it had to be as good. Once our beds were made the two DIs explained that in the morning after breakfast the real work begins.

The two DI’s went around 19 Flt making sure everyone knew what they had to do. Also weighing us up, so after our introductions and our beds made, we were then taken for our first RAF haircut, yes even those who had a haircut prior to leaving home had to pay for yet another one? I however was told to go to the admin block to sign some papers as it was my 18th birthday, I could sign my own life away whereas anyone under 18 had to get their parents to sign for them. so, while I was away the whole flight got their hair cut, and the Station barber had cleaned up all the hair from the whole flight, around 40 men, I returned to my room only for my Sgt to shout, oi you with the hair why have you not got a haircut, l looked around to see who he was shouting at, low and behold it was me, yes you as I returned me gaze, I explained that I was over at the admin block and did not know of the barber visit, so the whole room followed me down to get my hair cut, bloody shame as I had only just days before had a mullet haircut, one like Suzy Quarto but within five minutes the floor was full of my hair, it amounted to the same as the whole of 19 Flt, from that day on I was called a lot of names, but one was skinhead? how stupid as we all had the same length of hair. It was the first time in maybe seven years that my ears or neck had seen daylight, and boy with it being so cold did I feel it. We choose a bed and that would be our bed space for the duration of the training. Our drill sergeant, Sgt Wilson, then gave us each of us service numbers, from today onwards I would now be known as B8178774 AC O’Halloran. We were told what our first week would be like drill Where and when, GDT physical education Administration and organization of the Royal Air Force and lights out would be at 2200 hrs. Yes, we are now on a twenty-four-hour clock system, from now and all times would be in this the one we would live to and use. Reveille is 0615. With that we got ready for bed, put our personal stuff away and waited for the morning for the fun to start.

CHAPTER 3

Uniform

R eveille, Reveille, Its 0615!!!!

We were woken at 0615 by a tannoy blaring out from somewhere? Reveille, reveille, reveille, it’s 0615. I repeat its 0615.......this came blaring out of a speaker over the door just outside our room and it was very loud. Hands off cocks, hands on socks, there was no chance of anyone sleeping in that is for sure, this was our wakeup call and a welcome to military life. It was still very dark outside, and we all woke getting dressed still half asleep. Although we hit the sack at 2200 being in our teens very few of us found it easy getting up at this hour. Apart from the Saturday and Sunday we would be woken up each morning like this for the next six weeks. So, we all jumped out of bed and grabbed our wash bag headed to the ablutions for a wash and shave, even those who have yet to have grown any facial hair had to shave. After we washed, we then dressed and headed over to the mess for breakfast. The food in the mess was not great but it was freezing cold outside so anything warm was good. We returned to our block to make our beds, which had to have the corners tight and tucked in just as was done in hospitals. And our shoes in line with our beds, all our spare kit washing gear all put away out of sight. Then once this was done we made our way down the stairs for a quick fag before being lined up outside in rows of three and marched, if you could call it marching, we were all almost in step and our arms were all over the place, but it was the best we could do at short notice, what a bunch, arms and legs all over the place some in step some not, some tick tocking but this would be sorted in time. We were marched over to stores. Time to be fitted out with some sort of military attire. The weather outside was so cold as we arrived outside a long single-story building with a blue door and a barred window. Our DI, Sgt Wilson told us to stand outside and one by one we would be called in to the stores. I was so excited. I am about to be fitted for my RAF uniform; this was what would make me feel a hundred feet tall. My name was shouted out, AC O’Halloran, Yes Sgt, as I started to walk towards the door, in you go. I walked up the three steps through the door, it was almost like a long wide corridor with a long bench with some servicemen behind handing out kit to those people before me, Name, I said my service number and name, here, I was given a large pair of blue overalls called denims, then he said shoe size. Size nine. I was then handed two pairs of shoes and a pair of DMS boots a pair of white plimsolls, three pairs of black laces and one pair of white, one pair of insoles, two black ties, then a SAC supplier measured my head and me neck, he then shouted to another supplier, collar size 15 He then handed me four long sleeve blue shirts, two pair of woolly socks and four pair of cotton socks plus cap size 16 & 7/8s, go see him as the chap who took the measurements pointed me to another supplier. I walked to him, and he gave me a stable belt, a woolie pulley, a beret and cap and a metal cap badge with a yellow plastic disc., An air force blue belt with a brass buckle, two pairs of blue shorts and two blue and two white vests. A raincoat and an RAF holdall. Sign here, on this form was a list of all the clothing I was just given. I’ve never in my life had so much clothing and there was more to come but for now that was it. From here we all lined up, then marched back to our block to change into a blue shirt black tie, once our Sgt had shown us how to tie a Windsor knot, black woolly socks, demine, stable belt and beret. Plus, our demines which we would wear during our training. As soon as we had all been kitted out, we were marched back to the block to put our uniforms away and change ready for today’s fun. A tip our Sgt gave us, he suggested we put our berets in very hot water then cold, shape it on our heads then leave it on the radiators overnight to dry. This would help to shape it to our heads. For the next six weeks only after 1800 would not be wearing any civvies. We also had to buy a pair of braces from the Naafi to use on our number ones. So, the next few days was a blur of marching everywhere being shouted at eating slop and more paperwork plus more medicals. We had to line up in just our pants. Medics or RAF doctors came from every direction and looked in our ears, mouth shone a light in our eyes, injections, I felt like a fucking dart board I have no idea what half of them were for, but I signed a bit of paper and wham, another needle in my arm. Then we were told we would be having blood taken, it would be a small prick in our ear lobe, the best way was to rub the lobe for a few minutes and that way it would not hurt as much, and they would be able to get a good sample. so, we all did this for a long time, only for the medic to choose the other ear, bastards. Then it was on to the dentist. After that, another physical bend down jumps up, puts out your arms and stands on one leg. Have you had this or that? This took us most of the day going from one medical person to another, lunch then more of the same in the afternoon. but it was soon over, and we could now really begin the real training for which we signed up. This went on for the next couple of days. It was like a production line of jabs and examinations, bend down, jump up, do a star jump, do a press up stand still it was relentless. Then we were given a paper id form and had our photo taken for our plastic RAF F 1250 (ID card) and we had to give a specimen of our signature which would be copied onto the card. Then we had to sort out a bank account so our pay could be paid directly into a bank account. Up to this point I always got my wages on a Friday lunch time in a small brown envelope, so all this was new to me and now I had a responsibility not to spend money I did not have. i.e., so overdrawn as the military frowned upon, such sloppiness and we could get charged for bouncing a cheque. So now I have got a bank account. The day seemed to go on forever and as it was the middle of winter it did not get light until around 7.30 and got dark at 3.30 but as we started at 06.15 to 1700, we did not see much light but even when our day was not done. Our uniforms needed to be washed and ironed, shoes bulled, this was almost every night as we had our number one shoes, number two shoes, our DMS boots to bull, plus if we had PE our plimsolls had to be whitened and soles cleaned. So once this part was over, I think the RAF wanted to see how much we could take before leaving or failing, so on to the next phase. Our uniform as such was to put on a blue shirt, black socks, our DMS boots demines, stable belt beret with a yellow disc behind the metal RAF badge, blue shirt and tie. Once we had changed, we were called once again to assemble outside the block. The whole intake was then marched over to Hanger two. We were then told to line up on our own flights 17 on the left 19 on the right, GO. we then grouped together as each DI then started barking out orders, form one line, which we did, then he called out, shortest on the left tallest on the right, so, we did this then in good military order he arranged us in rows of three and we started our first real attempt of marching. We were then marched to a building which held a large lecture room. There were rows of seats set in a large semi-circle which was arranged for our occupation. There was an exercise book and pencils with each chair. This was our first insight into the coming weeks’ events. So, we took our seats and we had to write down the course for the next six weeks, unless at any part we might fail that would mean being back flighted, which would mean anyone not passing any part of the training would go back to the flight behind us and have to do that part of the training all over again, so for the sake of say failing the shooting exercise one might go back two weeks and join another flight behind ours. We were taught about the history of the RAF. How it was made up i.e., support command, supply, fighter etc. Also, the rank structure includes both airman and commissioned officers and air rank. The reason for the plastic yellow disc behind our cap badge was the same as having an L plate on a learner driver’s car. This way we would not get into trouble if we did not salute an officer. During the first two weeks marching did become better and we were also settling into the RAFs way of thinking. But no matter how hard we tried we would always fail at something. It was not all work. After our daily intake of pig swill, we might have the evening free to visit the Naafi. Anyone over the age of 18 had to wear a green band on their shoulder and could order alcohol anyone under just wore a plain RAF blue shirt so it was plain to see they were underage and if they did try to by alcohol would be reported and charged. This could mean them being thrown out. As I arrived on my 18, I took full advantage of the fact but even then, it was near impossible to have more than a couple of pints due to the time we had to be back in the block. The Naafi sold all sorts of stuff, but it was all centered around the training, however I did question why I could see women’s tights on the shelf? So, the Naafi had a couple of electronic type machines like space invaders, a pool table and that was about it. I think there was a TV room but back then we only had the three channels so no one bothered. It was a short walk from the block to the Naafi, but even in civvies we still kind of walked in step between the club and our billets just in case. We were quick to form friendships in our flight and competition between the three flights was full on. We knew there was a trophy at the end of the training for best recruit, best flight, marching and shooting so we all wanted at least one of these. For some just getting through each week was reward enough. The PE sessions were hard, I was a weak 11stone matchstick but due to my swimming, running and walking I was fit enough to carry my weight, but I was not very strong muscular wise, more so in the upper body area. I was lucky if I could do a couple of pull ups so I was worried that I might struggle and not cut the mustard. I was a bit worried that this might cost me my career, Time will tell. We did a lot of circuit stuff and a bleep test; we would hear a beep then run to the opposite side of the hanger then before the next beep we would run back, each time arriving just before each bleep. This would continue until the bleep went off before you reached the wall, that was you out, but we all had to reach a certain time first or we ran the risk of back flight. The bleeps would go off quicker with each circuit until we were almost sprinting, I was one of the last six to finish, the others only managed a few more before they could not keep up. Next, we were put into pairs, me and a chap slightly taller than I (6`6 I was 6`1) He was 15 stone. First was a wheelbarrow race, ok that’s easy I can do that, so I picked up his legs and off we all ran, the idea was at each lap we had to not be the last pair, No problem, a walk in the park, I thought...WRONG. After the first lap we then swapped and did it again, ok now swap, you must carry your partner. Holy shit how the fuck can I carry him and not collapse or come last, no one wanted to be last as we knew it would have some painful reward. So, I let him jump on my back and off I staggered, we did ok and I was nowhere near the back, then it was his turn, should be easy for him to carry me, off we went, and he twisted his ankle, I came down like a bag of shit and hit my face on the floor and burned my arms on the highly polished floor, as everyone went past us the PTI was shouting for us to get up, I helped him up, but he was struggling to stand, fucking pick him up shouted our caring PTI, as he got up, I went to climb on his back to continue, You fucking stupid west country sheep shagging wanker, you got straw for brains....You carry him can’t you see he’s injured, Oh boy he we go I did not think it was up to me to change rolls halfway through the run, to be honest I thought we would stop so they could see to him, how wrong was I. So, for the next however many laps I had to carry him and not come last, Due to this I was on the PTIs radar, I was trying to keep out of the limelight but not me, it was like I had a fucking spotlight on me. Next was circuits, pull ups, press ups, balance bars, and circuits. Before we started the chap I was with was sent to the medical Centre to have his ankle looked at. Shortly after this incident he put into level training, He was missing his wife too much and so returned home. So, he was the first of many who would leave as the weeks passed. I could just manage 10 press ups or 4 pull ups, oi wurzel, pull yourself up or I’ll ram my boot up your ass, as I struggles to do anymore pull ups, The PTI came next to me shouting in my face what a cunt I was and how my mother should have been slapped at my birth as I was so useless, The village must be missing me and more stuff like that, so much for keeping a low profile. We also had to do a mile run in under nine minutes, I knew that whatever time I achieved at some point in the future I would have to do better, so I took off and kept with the front runners but as we got nearer to the end I slowed down. My time was 8.33 the next time we did this we would have to beat this time and that is why I got a slow time as I knew next time, I could easily beat it. We finished the run and then told to hit the showers, which were the long communal type. We were all frozen and like me unable to feel my hands. The shower lasted less than 30 seconds and as the next lot went in, my hands were so cold I struggled to do the buttons on my shirt, more shouting, what are you doing, does your mother normally dress you, come on, everyone is waiting on you. I am fucked, they are now going to look for me to fuck up, I could see the