Once Upon A Time................................Part Two

It's time to get to August 1964, late on a Tuesday afternoon, although the exact date escapes me. It's a little after 4pm and all decent Admin and Stores staff are preparing to disappear for the day. No-one needs two new postings-in to arrive at that time. Well, we did. Phil Reeves and I arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed on the doorstep of the Orderly Sgts office to announce our arrival. This was it. I had arrived in 20 company RAMC, Tidworth Military Hospital. I was over the moon.

It's quite amazing the lack of warmth that exuded from the Corporal, known locally as the Orderly Sgt.(Took me a long time to work out this rank thing!!) The RSM was, to be brutally honest, no more welcoming. I feel that he didn't exactly take to me when answering what I should have known was a rhetorical question. "Just how Blah Blah long does it take to get from North Wales to Tidworth. You are Blah Blah late!!!" My attempts to describe reasonably accurately the distances involved and the lateness of trains was interupted by, " I suppose you'll say it was in a different Blah Blah time zone as well." Lesson Number 1. Don't even attempt to answer questions put to you by those of a higher rank and obviously superior intelligence. Next, when asked where all my kit was I kept quiet. To me it was quite clear, I had two suitcases, one each stood either side of me. Lesson Number 2. Always answer a question asked by those of a higher rank and obviously superior intelligence. I felt unsafe at that point and decided army life was not for me.

Off to the barrack room next, followed by a trip to the Stores to collect mattress and bedding. Question. Why are the stores always at the furthest point possible away from the barrack room?

Soon bedding was sorted I was changed into civvies and out looking for the cookhouse. What a surprise that turned out to be. I couldn't believe how good the food was and the smallness of the dining area compared with what I had known at Rhyl. This place was almost like home. Table cloths, cups and saucers, salt and pepper pots and a civilised environment in which to relax. Home from Home.

Next morning came and it dawned on me that I was again going to meet my new found friend, RSM Dickie North. At 8.30 am I was marched into his office for the "official" welcome. He could not have been nicer. He welcomed me to the Regular Army, wished me every success for the future-and then ruined it all by barking such phrases as "bloody ex-boys, no more pampering, you know nothing, got it all to come" and more.

Next-to the Company Commanders office, just next door. "When I call you to attention I want to see that foot drive into the ground and I want to hear you shout SIR, understood? March into the office, right wheel in front of the desk, mark time until I shout Halt and then a smart right turn to face the officer." Is this all his life consisted of I thought, just barking at people. No way did I want to become an RSM if that were the case. This interview left me somewhat confused. The "officer" referred to earlier by the RSM, simply asked him where I was from, what my trade was, had I settled in ok and where was I going to be working. The officer was clearly satisfied by the answers given by the RSM and I was marched out. My next appointment struck me as a little odd I have to say. I was being taken to meet the Matron.

What a change in attitude and manner. All was calm, polite chit chat and a very warm welcome was the order of the moment. Eventually she asked what was my trade. I said I was a Medical Assistant, Class 3. She asked what training was like at Rhyl and did I have any ward experience as well as in casualty and with the Ambulance services. Lesson Number 3. Don't over egg the pudding when describing what you have done. She immediately started rubbing her hands in glee, without actually doing so if you get my drift. I found myself being assigned to working on the wards. She would not listen to me when I told her over and over that I was an MA3, not a nurse. I was told that I would be given a day off the next day which was Thursday. Friday morning I would report to Surgical Ward Two, Delhi Hut for a familiarisation session and then report for night duty at 7.45pm for the hand-over report. After that I would be on my own although night sister could be contacted via Reception. (NO bleeps or pagers in those days.)

This I did not need. I had joined up to be an Operating Theatre Technician not a nurse. Clearly I was still not a nurse, but the Matron was convinced that I was. ( I found out later that the hospital was short of nurses and I had opened my trap at the wrong time thereby condemning myself to my fate.)

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In Part Three I'll take you on the nightmare ride that was my introduction to Surgical Nursing, my total failure to understand what the hell I was doing in the Army as well as my fears for the future!!!