Trials and Tribulations of a Civilian Grunt

Trials and Tribulations of a Civilian Grunt

Read a lot about these blogs recently, and thought it might be kinda neat, and that I’d try it out and maybe kill some time. Time, that’s one thing I sure have had a lot of recently. Well, here I am, a twenty-year-old kid who’s tried for the last four years to make it into the British Army, and finally I’ve made it. Well, almost.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been hooked onto the idea of the Army. Army fucking balmy that’s me all right. You see there’s nothing I have ever wanted to do with my life, no real dreams or aspirations like everybody else. At least most people have paper dreams when they’re young. Astronaut, movie star, fireman, you know the score. Not me though, for me it was always going to be the Army.

I first tried when I was sixteen and still in school, and went for the Royal Marines. I was a kinda weedy little kid, and everyone thought this to be a kinda funny idea. It really hurt at the time I suppose, but that early negativity was to be my source of inner strength. I passed the tests for the Marines but for some reason I decided not to pursue it, and instead thought better of the Army instead. By this time I was doing my A levels, and had decided on my local infantry regiment, the Royal Anglians. I was in the Army Cadet Force and loved every minute of it, leaving with the rank of Corporal I knew that solid infantry work was what I wanted.

However, it wasn’t to be. I failed the eyesight requirement in my medical and was deferred for six months. I was totally broken, and felt that I was utterly doomed into a life of boring medial crap, shit jobs, just an ordinary Joe no one gave a fuck about. I decided to get away from it all, and lived in Thailand for four months studying Muay Thai. I came back in December of last year (2006) to find an Army letter waiting for me. It had been six months and stated I could reapply should I wish to. Too fucking right I wished to! I went back after the New Year and explained my situation and got the ball rolling again. Of course, I was having kittens at the thought of failing my eyesight again, as second time round I’d be stuffed. At this early stage I was totally resigned to the near realisation that I would indeed fail again, after all, what the fuck difference did six months make to my eyesight?

Finally, after four months of shitting my pants waiting for my medical to be over and done with, I got the good news. I was in bed dozing one morning late April, and my phone rang. As I was still half-asleep and badly hungover I thought I’d let it ring and can leave a message. After a minute or so I thought bollocks and answered it. It was my recruitment sergeant, Sgt Crook. I’d passed my medical. I couldn’t believe it! I’d finally done it!! I said thankyou very much that was great and he’d be in touch with interview dates and the next stage. ‘Fucking Yes!!!’ I screamed, and laughed out loud for a good ten minutes before texting everybody in my phone book.

The interviews were a piece of piss and I had to wait until ADSC, or Army Development and Selection Centre, Lichfield, 13th July. This was the final hurdle, and I knew I still had to pass another medical, this one physical and with a whole team of nurses and doctors poking and prodding me for physical and medical weakness. By this time I had moved back up to Hull from Lincoln to live with my dad, to start training for Lichfield. I might fail on my eyesight I figured, and there was nothing I could do about that. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to fail on the physical tests. The half hour waiting to get the medical over and done with was the most nerve racking of my life. When the good doctor passed me I acted non – chalantly, but inside my head was doing somersaults right up the Humber Bridge and back down again for seconds. I was ecstatic. The next thirty six hours was spent doing interviews and physical tests. I managed to come forth or fifth out of forty one in the mile and a half run, coming in at nine minutes twenty nine which I was thrilled about, but knew I could have done a bit better. The final interview with a Major was interesting, him recommending me for officer training (along with virtually every other recruitment officer I’d come across; fuck that) and The Parachute Regiment, which was my second choice after the Poachers (2nd Battalion Royal Anglians).

So, here I am, waiting for my joining date for Catterick, for twenty-six fun filled action weeks of infantry training up in North Yorkshire. The only thing in-between me and twenty-two years soldering is another medical at Catterick, within the first few days. Believe me, I have every single finger and toe doubly crossed. In the mean time, I’m still at the gym everyday training my upper body and working on longer runs with weights. Thirty-eight days to go.

Bring it on.

Rejoice O young man in thy youth... - Ecclesiastes