How Army taught me to be a soldier

Tabbing – or walking – comes from tactical advance to battle, OP is observation post, and LSW is a light support weapon. Or as one squaddie described it to me, the “long silly weapon”.

This is the world into which I had willingly volunteered, a stranger in a strange land.

I was going to complete a taster for the Army’s Midlands Challenge along with a bunch of other reporters from the Midlands.

I arrived at 4pm and over the next 18 hours I would be getting a brief look at what would-be Territorial Army recruits can expect from the full five-week course aimed at turning them from civvies into soldiers.

The day started at MOD Stafford, an anonymous base nestled in the Staffordshire countryside ringed with fencing and full of huge hangers painted drab grey and green.

I expected a huge military presence and a camp bristling with soldiers or at least the odd tank, but I was disappointed.

The base was quiet but I was pointed to a huge hangar where two soldiers – and, inexplicably, a small white Scotty dog – stood.

A quick conversation revealed I was in the right place. Inside the cavernous hangar was a huge office, stores and changing room.

The chat also revealed that the Army is an employer that allows staff to bring their dogs to work with them.

To my surprise, the Army also has to abide by workplace health and safety rules. Yet I can’t imagine a section of 2 Battalion the Mercian Regiment filling out a risk assessment form before heading out to interrupt the Taliban’s breakfast somewhere in Helmand.

A smart-looking soldier in camouflage uniform and beret appeared from an office door and introduced himself as Sgt Tony Harris, of 3 Battalion The Mercian Regiment.

I got the immediate impression that this forthright man with a Midlands accent could take anybody politely but firmly by the scruff of the neck and shake them until they were a soldier.

He said: “Health and safety is taken very seriously. We used to have a disclaimer for new recruits saying the MOD cannot in every case take liability if you get hurt, but that’s gone now.”

We had to fill out the paperwork including columns headed “next of kin”.

I and nine other willing victims were handed a set of combats and boots and introduced to the rest of our equipment, better known – as just about everything is in the Army – as kit.

We also had our bergen (rucksack), rollmat, basha sheet – effectively your tent – sleeping bag (very comfy) and waterproof sack for the sleeping bag.

Finally there was webbing, or chest harness into which your mess tin and water bottle fit, and a dummy version of the standard SA80 assault rifle. We would wear or carry these at all times.

“Your rifle is never more than arm’s length from you,” said L/Cpl Carl Hartwell, 1 Battalion, Royal Regiment of Fusiliers. “Understood?”

We nodded.

“Good times,” he grinned.

After a morning briefing, we were bussed to a training camp. As we entered at the main gate, we felt like we were at a 1950s Butlins-style holiday camp with low brick blockhouses and, bizarrely, several live turkeys in a pen.

Except Butlins probably never had members of the elite Royal Gurkha Rifles standing around.

And nothing brings the mind into focus like the crack of rifle rounds.

From the distant sound of gunfire and the odd crump of an explosion, the reality of a working Army training camp dawned.

While we were there, the 22 Signals Regiment were readying for deployment to Afghanistan.

In the few quiet moments I got, I thought about the tough test the real soldiers training all around us would face in a few months and my respect grew for the tough and humorous group of Army trainers patiently teaching us the absolute basics and the squaddies training for the real business of trading bullets with the Taliban.

The challenge course is aimed at fully training a TA soldier, including shooting, climbing, canoeing, abseiling and fitness training, with £600 at the end to boot.

As I tucked in to the 24-hour ration pack boil-in-the-bag meal of chicken tikka in the middle of woodland, I was starting to think £600 was selling you cheap.

Field rations have been worse for the private soldier, though, as Sgt Harris explained: “They used to have one menu. Out in the field that gets boring quickly. But now there’s something different, chicken tikka masala, lamb curry, chicken arrabiata.”

However soldiers are often “creatures of habit” and ended up sticking to one type of meal in any case, said Sgt Harris.

Truth be told, despite different names on the packets, the meals all had a reddy-orange look to them. They were surprisingly tasty, though.

The meals were warmed over metal cookers, burning solid fuel hexamine or ‘hexy’ blocks. New recruits often light the blocks but then ‘zone out’ without feeding in more fuel – a condition known by soldiers as “watching hexy TV”

Operational requirements mean warm food can go out the window, as Fusilier Jamie Davis, 1 Fusiliers, explained. He said: “We were in an OP in Iraq for two weeks before the locals found us, and I never stood up, me and five other guys.”

And when you need the toilet? “Your mate holds the bag while you squat down,” he said, completely serious.

We were shown how to put up our bashas (shelters) using the waterproof sheet, sticks and string and there were some worried looks about the robustness of our night’s accommodation.

With night falling, things got exciting as we blacked up our hands and faces, Rambo-style and were shown how to set up a vehicle checkpoint or VCP.

“These are for information-gathering and act as a deterrent,” said Sgt Harris.

A section of soldiers will set up on a roadway, stop vehicles, talk to the occupants and carry out a search of the vehicle.

“Ninety-nine per cent of the time these will be completely non-confrontational,” said Sgt Harris. “One per cent of the time they won’t.”

If a vehicle check goes bad, the Army trains soldiers not to raise their aggression but “match aggression”. Sgt Harris said: “If he shouts, you raise your voice. If he won’t wind the window down, make to smash it with your rifle butt.”

Sgt Harris told us how an over-exuberant trainee had nearly put the window of an Army 4x4 through.

“I had a bit of explaining to do about that,” he added.

We were then given the chance to run our own VCP, with me taking the role of “chatterman” – the soldier who stops the car and talks the driver through the search procedure.

All went as planned until the part where the driver – Fusilier Davis in disguise – was supposed to turn off the engine. He didn’t and he wouldn’t.

A threat to smash the window worked and I snatched the keys from the ignition, but Fusilier Davis, Sgt Harris in the passenger seat and L/Cpl Hartwell in the rear played the roles of livid civvies well. They would have done a drama college proud. Arts proud.

The situation quickly became chaotic as each of them got out of the car, shouting and gesturing.

My blood was pumping, but Sgt Harris’s advice about “matching aggression” was still ringing in my ears.

At one stage, I told L/Cpl Hartwell’s alter ego he was being detained as our searchers had found a weapon in their vehicle.

He wasn’t coming quietly. All 16 stone of him.

Advised by Army observer L/Cpl Richard Massey, I aimed my rifle at Hartwell, who responded with, “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Instead, we got physical and I forcibly turned Hartwell around and – remembering something I had once seen on TV’s The Bill – jabbed my left kneecap into the back of his right knee to collapse him to the ground. To my delight, it worked.

Troublemakers now pacified, the shout of “endex” or end of exercise put a stop to the fun and games. Sgt Harris de-briefed us telling me: “You did a good job, but you pointed your weapon at the guy. Remember what I said about matching aggression.”

Fair point, I thought, but later L/Cpl Massey, told me with a wry smile, “It’s different tactics for different commanders”, so I felt a little vindicated.

Although it was 10pm and I should have been exhausted by all these new experiences, I actually felt completely energised. The adrenaline was still pumping when I got in my sleeping bag at 1am.

After a compass bearing exercise and an explanation about pacing – how soldiers judge how far they’ve marched or ‘tabbed’ – we finished with a 2km (1.8-mile) foot patrol.

Something memorable happened while we tabbed back to camp under the full moon as gunfire and shouts rang across the night air.

To everyone’s surprise, a shadow to our left suddenly moved, stood up and walked past us. Agog, we watched as about 30 soldiers, silent in single disciplined file, stood up one after the other and walked back along the roadway where we had passed. We’d nearly tripped over them and not known it.

At that moment, I remembered that these men would soon be staking their lives on the quality of their training and cool, calm discipline.

Something Sgt Harris had said back at camp also came to mind: “The British Army are the best. I’m not just saying that, I’m stating fact, we set the standard.”

We were woken at 6.30am and after breakfast we bade farewell to the real soldiers and Sgt Harris and went back to civvy street.

For more information about the Army’s Midlands Challenge go to armyjobs.

mod.uk/westmidlands or visit the careers office in Foregate Street, Worcester. Alternatively, call 01905 723677.