Digging up old memories

Warning: This post is not about cycling or travel, but was wrote as an introduction to an old boys club earlier this week and meant as an ironic recap of my short nine years in the British Army. Its heavy on words, and light on photo’s but, just maybe some of my regular readers will like it . This is a part of my life I’ve kept in a dark place for many years. For obvious reasons its been at the front of my mind a lot in recent weeks, and writing heals!! (note: if any of my friends from this era want a photo edited or removed, just let me know).

Once upon a time around 7th of September 1991 I walked through the front gates of Princess Marine College in Arborfield to start my Army basic training.  I was 16 and had £5.43 in my pocket, no bank account and a small bag of the best clothes I had. Nine years later in the Spring of 2000 I drove out the gates of Wattisham airfield, a civilian in a fancy car loaded with all my personal crap and gadgets and a savings account that any 25 year old should bow to. The years in between were the worst and best of my life, but more importantly were the foundations of who I am today.

Princes Marine College 1991-1993
This was a generally miserable time in my life, especially the first year. But it was better than being at home and the structure suited me. Basic training was sharing a room full of selfish wankers and learning the ropes. A culture shock but at the same time the game was easy to learn and it was easy to be the grey man. Apparently I had a talent for being a yes man, the perfect role in Basic training and for an army career.

Proud parents at the pass out parade after 3 months then moving to senior company. The predictable attempts at bullying by room mates and peers easily undermined by being myself (have scares though) and saved by classmates that would create foundations for lifetime friendships(thx John, Marc, Matt, Jim, Steve, etc etc). A smart escape was to fail the fitness test so that I had to go do extra fitness training in the morning instead of cleaning toilets. Too easy. Not being used to freedom I didn’t apply myself the first year (which 17 year old does). A serious talking to by a head of department (after failing a couple of exams) didn’t help. But, a nutjob teacher (Mr Antwis) gave me a few words of advise with respect and talked to me like an adult for the first time in my Army career and he hit a nerve. I woke up and started getting after it. I went from scraping through exams because I didn’t understand things to really owning it (within the realms of being Mr Grey).

From a military point of view my most vivid memory is a training week (whatever it was called) when the gentleman Sergeant Para and Falklands veteran taught me me 3 things:

1. Never underestimate a hungover para, he ran us into the ground carrying twice the weight during a 10 mile run.

2. A firefight is not paint ball, bushes won’t save you, get low, get cover.

3. You can do personal admin like tooth brushing later in the morning. The best thing is to have your toothbrush and paste in your pocket for random use when you have time.

Thankfully I never had to test number 2. I’ve only ever been shot at by a drunken Croation soldier poorly celebrating New Year. Number 3 I still use regularly when I do my long distance cycling trips. (Yes you can brush your teeth while cycling and preferably 5 times a day if you have a touch of OCD).

Middle Wallop 3 months
Three months administration training and type training on Lynx/Gazelle. Three months learning its easier to get attention from women if you’re dressed as a Morris dancer, women or other fancy dress………A very important lesson for life when you’re 17. At the end of 3 months my classmates and I where offered 12 postings to fight out among ourselves. I chose the only place that had 1 spot, my classmates approved because “who wants to go out into the nasty world alone” .

1 Regt AAC Workshops Gutersloh, Germany. 1994-1997
A cousin dropped me off at Luton airport at 4am (pre easy jet days). A random flight to Hannover and a battle bus to Gutersloh where I got dropped off just inside the main gate. Now what? After some walking/asking around I found my way to someone that wasn’t expecting me but could look after me. The rest is history. From the CSM’s talk about “be careful with German beer as its stronger than UK beer” (many years later I would hear that I was part of the next CSM”s speach….” Be careful and don’t try to drink with Shane and Noel”).

My time in Germany was the 2nd happiest time in my army career. From being a NIG (new in Germany) and Sprog AT  (air tech) and all the other glories befitting a 19 year old soldier and engineer I learned so much. I learned the job (mainly thanks to Chris and Chris), I learned how to be an alcoholic, learned how to fill my free time and sadly didn’t learn any German.

Just before my 20th birthday we got the “GOOD” news that we too were going to Bosnia. Which 20 year old soldier doesn’t want to go to war? Our whole squadron was stoked. Luckily in these pre”insert modern conflict” days our squadron OC was smart enough to organise all kinds of extra training for us. I loved this time, being treated like real soldiers by the training team of experienced infantry. (Which air tech ever gets a LAW in their hands or gets to do real live fire exercise? ).

Luckily we didn’t need our “military training” in Bosnia (ironically 99% of the time was at the coast in Croatia). We had a wonderful team in Croatia while we spent most of 6 months working 24 hours on 24 off. Luckily there was often time during the ON to get the gym or hit the bar before closing time. At this time I hit my peak on the fitness front and had dreams of green and beige berets…..3 things other than running, drinking and sweating in that plastic hangar stick in my mind from this tour.

-A head torch is not the best aid to change an engine knowing snipers are in the hills, but a head torch is fucking handy so you use it anyway.

-“Wake up, a Lynx has crashed in the Sea and we want to send some aircraft for search and rescue”. The only time I’ve ever run to work, the only time I’ve ever gone to work without brushing my teeth, and the only time I’ve done a pre flight in 2 minutes and ignored most of the preflight check list and paper work seemed fairly irrelevant that day. Sadly it was all too late, the Lynx was later recovered but who cares, it was too late for the people inside.  Once a year I raise a glass to remind myself of the crew, passengers and other Army friends no longer with us and to myself. You’re never too young for your last day.

-Squadron boss: “I’ve done a rotor overspeed for 30 minutes” Crew chief “FFS do you know how much work that creates….FFS, why the fuck did you do that?” “ The gentleman infantryman was bleeding to death in the cabin and I hoped by flying faster he might make it”. This is an important lessons in life, never judge too quickly and when you know ” the why” , you have no problem working 100 hours a week. I was happy to miss the gym and bar for two weeks knowing my boss did his best for the guy leaking in the cabin.

The sad irony of these first missions in Bosnia and especially my second tour was that the helicopters were often a taxi service. During my second tour I learned the inner depths of sleep deprivation, human factors and how useless a leak check is when the person performing it (me) is doing it when already awake for 30 hours….

Upgraders: Spring-Winter 1997
This was the time of my life. For many a shitty 6-9 months going back to school to become a Class 1 (Army helicopter Ground Engineer). For me the matrix lined up. With 2 Bosnia tours under my belt I had more experience than most, and for the first time in my life I appeared smarter than most of the class. With the added advantage of previous classes giving us a 300 piece list of previous exam questions, life became a ritual of school, revision, drinking and a week before exams blasting through previous exam questions. Of course spending most Thursday to Sundays hitting town dressed up as clowns/Morris dancers/ Women/Superheros or golfers. I was blessed with a good class which like me were generally unmarried and had no reason to go home at weekends. Exam day was always Friday and always a question of getting it done before the hangover started. Ironically, it was always the first 3 out of the exam that had the biggest hangovers and the best exam results…..Go figure.

I have a lot of respect for the staff and curriculum of that time and Army training in general. The basic theorie of that course (and SMC- Sergeants course later) and especially the Quality assurance and human factors elements which are now so main stream but then almost unheard of have served me well over the years since.

7BN Workshops : 1997-1999
My first reaction at 7bn was “ WTF, everyone goes home at the weekend” Obviously this was the difference between being stationed in Germany vs the UK. My second was “Pardon? Vehicles are prio 3 and Aircraft 8”. I joined the army to Travel the world, kill the enemy and fix some Helicopters. The MT pool was not my thing. You had 2 choices at 7bn. 1. You wanted the stability (family) so went for the 9 year Wattisham triangle 3x3yrs between the 3 units there. Or B pulled the pin and went for every excuse to escape.

I went for the later. Upgraders, sailing course then another Croatia tour (which sucked dogs dicks because the SSGT was a bully and an arse and the Officer too young to do anything about it, poor guy). Luckily again, I had a great team (despite spending 6 months with 2 teams sharing a 20-30 man room). For the sake of explanation, we always arrived drunk at 12pm when the other team wanted to sleep and had a 6am start and they were kind enough to do the same). This tour taught me the importance of good mates, relationships within a team and the fact that after a couple of months you know your best mate snorts his nose very irritatingly every 43 seconds so accept it rather than getting annoyed and what the worst boss in the world looks and behaves like.

The threat of physical violence from a gorilla if you don’t get on with the boss, is the worst motivator in the world. Despite the consequences this is one of the few times in my life I’ve stood up for others and it was worth it. The easy life of a  yes man was a distant memory. This and my NI experience have certainly ensured that I’ve avoided conflicts and middle management until now.

The highlight of this trip was the night 15 of us walked into the bar pretending we’d taken a wrong turn going back to the room from the shower, each walking in 2 minutes after the previous guy. Mr Gorilla and Mr Boss were very unimpressed that they hadn’t been invited. Obviously relations didn’t improve after that :).

Northern Ireland 1999-2000
Standing outside Belfast airport at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon and my lift wasn’t there. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I looked, walked and talked like a soldier and it was the most predictable place in Northern Ireland to pick up a lost soldier and escort him to the best Soldier snuff film ever. Luckily I’d been smart enough to remember the contact phone number and was picked up and brought to Aldergrove rather than catch a black cab to the wrong back alley. The next day I was at work at 7am and Al was giving me the handover for a Gazelle ” 1600 hrs check “(imagine helicopter meccano exploded view).” We’re just waiting for parts which arrive tomorrow then it can be put back together, the 2 mechanics are good guys but don’t have a lot of experience and I’m going on 2 weeks holiday in 4 hours. Good luck!”

Shit, I’d expected a softer landing for my first time as crew chief. The next 6 months were often 6-7 days a week of finishing work between 11pm- 1 am, drinking until 3am to get rid of the stress then starting work at 8am.
“Shane, when will my Lynx be done, I need it tomorrow” . “When my team and I think its serviceable to fly, and that won’t be tomorrow”.

Within the first month the good news came that I’d been promoted to Sergeant. The introduction to the Sgt’s mess felt great. Within a week I was thinking “ this is bullshit, did I really work so hard these last years for all these outdated traditions, rules and etiquette.  That old cunt just hangs around the bar waiting for people to ask permission to join the bar” . But at the same time got to talk to people higher in the food chain when they where more open than they should have been.

“Shane, I hate that you always deliver aircraft 1-2 weeks later from heavy maintenance than the previous guys.”. “I don’t give a shit, I suspect my team is the only one doing the job properly here instead of being ‘operational’ ”. Four months later the same workshop boss bought me a beer at the same bar at 3 am and apologised. “ You’re always late with heavy maintenance but we can fly the balls off those things for months, usually after heavy maintenance we have to get creative after a day or two”. Though well overdue this was one of the best compliments of my career and an important lesson in reliability. Only by keeping your standard high, preforming preventive maintenance properly and bringing vibration and wear to a minimum can you have a reliable machine.

Five months into my tour I got a phone call. “ Sorry Sgt Little but I’ll have to cut your RR short after NI because we’re going to Kosovo in 6 weeks” . Pardon? According the the young gentleman lieutenant there was no way around.

I thought fuck that, 3×6 months in Bosnia/Croatia plus an NI tour in the last 3 years and now I was getting send on to another fucking war zone, fuck that…. My next two steps were important lessons in life, both with the same theme. If you’re unhappy with a situation you have three choices:

-Whine like a little bitch.

-Accept your situation and stop whining.

-Take steps to change your situation or yourself, Life rewards people who run their life rather than letting it run them.

My Boss in NI was very happy with my suggestion to stay on in NI for a second tour instead of not knowing who my replacement would be and organised that I stay and my replacement went to Kosovo. I was happy with my warm bed and mess access in NI instead of a tent somewhere in war torn Kosovo with winter on the way. It didn’t take long for the penny to drop that if a double tour of NI seemed like a great escape, life didn’t make sense. I took steps to change my situation and within 6 months I was a civilian.

During my time in Northern Ireland as a 24 year old crew chief and manager of 4-10 technicians I made enough mistakes to last a life time. I worked my men too hard, My bosses thought me too soft for my team. I made errors in judgement or took shortcuts and made mistakes that could have cost lives had I not been so lucky. This has always held me back in later life and I’ve always made the choice to be the grey man.

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A month ago, after an almost 20 year sabbatical and many years drinking much less beer, I decided to get back on the horse and I’m very thankful that my current company has given me the chance to take the step towards middle management again.

I can’t imagine that man management has changed much since, the only difference is that soldiers don’t die if I fuck up, pilots worry about duty hours, rest and hotels instead of a sleepless night being a comfort and moral support to injured Fusiliers in a tank that has hit a land mine on a dark road. If I don’t make a deadline passengers go on holiday slightly later than planned instead of terrorists escaping or meeting their date with Doctor 5.56mm.

Its not rocket science, I’m not curing cancer, I have no solution to ethnic cleansing. I just hope that most passengers can go on holiday on time and that my team finish work safe and happy.

Time will tell, one thing is for sure, I have a lot to learn and I’m ready to move on.