Once upon a time, way back in in August 1964, I joined 20 Company RAMC, Tidworth Military Hospital. It was my first full day of Mans Service and I was as excited as a young man could be on such an occasion! It was a Tuesday, around 4.30pm, but the exact date escapes me. I couldn't wait for the next day to dawn. When it did however, I began to have second thoughts about what I had done in joining the British Army.
The story actually starts a year before that. I had been "fortunate" enough to pass the entrance examination at the Oxford Recruitment Office. I had chosen the trade of Operating Theatre Technician as my chosen career, and bluffed my way through the selection process to the point where I was told I had scored sufficient points in the exams and had had bluffed the phsychologist to the point where I was considered intelligent enough to be able to learn the trade.(I've always thought this a little odd as I was a country bumpkin from a small village, who had done little more in life prior to this than earn pocket money by delivering groceries by bicycle at the weekends and nick the odd packet of 10 Players Navy Cut from the shop when I thought no-one was looking. I was a kind if early day Granville as later seen in Open All Hours.) In truth, I think the army was a bit short of volunteers and I was in the wrong place at the right time!!
It was to the Junior Tradesmans Regiment, Rhyl that was sent a short while later. I was beside myself with excitement. I was going to be a soldier, I was going to Rhyl (where the hell was Rhyl?) Later found out it was in North Wales-yipee, I'm going abroad!(I said I was a village bumpkin didn't I.) The village of Twford was about to lose it's Idiot.
Wow, what a different world I landed in. I won't go on too much about the early days-I'm sure the first days after joining up were more or less the same for all of us, male and female. After the first few days it was on with the training. As a junior Medic I was destined to train to the standard of MA3. Thats Medical Assistant Class Three for any non-miltary persons reading this. It wasn't only MA training ahead of me. Teaching us to march in an organised and fully co-ordinated way was the first task the drill pigs, sorry Drill Sgts attempted with the likes of myself. I was lucky I suppose. I got it right almost immediately. General and Military education was delivered by school teachers dressed as officers in The Royal Army Education Corps, and damned good they were too. Biology was delivered by a civilian by the name of Mr Roberts. Weapon training was a must for all-regardless of future Corps or Regiment. I was very keen on this aspect of my training. I trained in the use of the L.M.G., and S.L.R., and could load a magazine in the time it took to recite the Lords Prayer (not my strongest point you will gather) I was, surprisingly to those who know me perhaps, a dashed fine shot with the S.L.R., and S.M.G. I achieved Marksman status with both although it didn't officially count for Medics.
As well as military training, we Medics of the future were put to good use, at the same time as improving our skills, by working with the local Ambulance Service and at The Princess Alexandra Hospital on the seafront in Rhyl. Shortly before leaving, I was sent to work at the Prince Edward War Memorial Hospital, to which the Casualty Department was moved after the Alex department was closed. At the Alex, I worked on the wards, generally bottom washing and keeping things neat and tidy, as well as in the extremely busy casualty department. I grew up quite quickly in that department. Seeing and handling victims of road accidents was a real shocker at first. One saturday morning is etched on my mind. It was fairly early and there was a real humdinger of a thunderstorm overhead. Two victims of a road accident were wheeled in. I remember a young boy of around 5 years of age screaming and screaming, trying to reach out to his father who lay on the trolley next to him. I had to restrain him while at the same time try to reassure him. I found it particularly difficult I have to say. His father was dead.
Four terms later, and I was considered suitable to be let loose on an unsuspecting Tidworth Military Hospital. So, fully armed with my MA3 qualification, my Army Certificate of Education Class 3, I set off for Tidworth. In Part 2, I'll tell you what bother the MA3 got me into.
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