What Makes The Grass Grow?

The last seven weeks sure have passed quickly, and yet seem but an age away already.

About to start week eight at Infantry Training Centre Catterick, and there is no let up. Passed off the square on week six and became a badged member of the Royal Anglian Regiment, so that’s one mini achivment already. The training, although still technicaly phase one basic training (ie every recruit in the army has to complete) feels like its getting much tougher and more real than other corps training. We had bayonet training the other afternoon, which mainly involved us getting ragged for three hours straight by the NCO’s, crawling through rivers and over fields until our elbows and knees where red raw with chaffing and bleeding. Along with this beasting we had the actual practical bayonet training, combined with a bit of old school ‘full metal jacket’ brain washing of the ‘kill kill kill' chants.

Week eight starts with us deploying on Intro Ex Four, our longest and inevitably hardest exercise yet; four days and three nights of section battle drills. We thought bayonet one was tough, I have a feeling this will really sort the men from the boys, several of the lads are already starting to crack, talking of handing in their DOR’s.

Not too bad with the time off though; had two decent leave periods already. First was after week four parents day, a bullshit health and saftey enduced bout of welfare for the fresh - out - of - school lads. A pal and I went out to York for the night and thourghly enjoyed the suprinsgly distant feel of female company, lie ins, and a lack of orders being barked upon us by a semi pissed off JNCO. But not for too long! Home sweet home and all, and they do say home is where your hats at. Or, in our case, shit lid.

Second time out was after week six pass off and had a long weekend which I spent with friends in Lincoln and had a good night out in Loughbourgh. Already, after only a few months, you start to feel that your different from civies, from your friends and families. Slightly better, that your doing something worth while, that you are doing societies dirty work and they don’t give two fucks. Maybe that’s what is meant by the Infantry brotherhood that we hear so much about – that were on our own preserving socities way of life in a totally thankless capacity. Everyone else is saying it too; that we all feel very different not just to normal civies, but our loevd ones. It’s a strange feeling and one that certainly I, nor anyone else I expect, had prepared for.