In Part 4 off my story, I said I would describe how, although I was "growing up" in my own eyes, I was actually still naive.
I was born in the rather less than salubrious area of South London known as Battersea, placed in a childrens home and then adopted into Buckinghamshire village life when I was three and a half. In my early years, early being up until the age of fourteen or so, I was the regular target of other boys in the village, being beaten up regularly because of my parents addiction to religion and their not allowing me to mix freely with the other kids. With this background you might expect that I would be quite hardened to life, cynical and mistrusting of anything and anyone. In fact, the exact opposite was true.
I took everyone at face value, I believed everything I was told, I trusted anyone and everyone. I had a faith in people that remains with me to this day, despite many things that have happened to me during my military career. This said, as a reasonably fresh faced, if somewhat spotty seventeen and a half year old, I believed everything I was told, did everything I was asked to do and trusted everyone who was my senior. I honestly thought that was how life was meant to go on. What a Pratt!!!!!
The majority of patients in the main body of Delhi Hut were hardened and experienced. They had been places, seen things, read the books and amassed a fair collection of T-Shirts. Me?-nothing except village life and basic training at Rhyl. I fell for so many tricks it is embarrasing to even admit to it. Strangely though, it wasn't the falling for every trick in the book as perpetrated by patients, it was the gross indignity of being let down by senior members of staff that I remember most. I still do not understand why it was, and I'm sure it still is, neccessary to humiliate trainees to the point where they either make mistakes or give up completely.
As far as making mistakes is concerned, I remember to this day the way I was let down by a Q.A.R.A.N.C Nursing Officer, who enjoyed the rank of Captain at the time. I was on night duty at the time of the event. I turned up on time for the handover report as required. The Ward Sister was not there however as she had gone off duty early to prepare for a Mess function of some sort. A male nurse at Class 2 level, who later became a first rate Operating Theatre Technician, was left to handover to me. There had that day, been a rash of admissions including several minor injuries from a road accident as well as the pre-arranged admissions. The handover was not a complete one and for this I do not blame my colleague. He was as ill informed by the Ward Sister as I was to become.
I went about the usual ward business-I visited every patient, had a brief chat with the regulars and spoke in greater depth with the new admissions. There were no treatments but there was a drug round to do. By the time all duties were completed it was just after 10.30pm and time for lights out on the ward, except for the intensive care area next to the office-lights there were dimmed.
At around 11.30pm I got a call from the NCO in charge of Reception, a certain Lance Corporal who was Night Ward Master. He asked if all my patients were accounted for. As far as I was aware, they were. Numbers tallied with what I was given at handover. Strange I thought!
Ten minutes later I heard footsteps in the corridoor. The Night Ward Master appeared, accompanied by a young soldier with minor cuts and bruises to his face. This, I was subsequently informed was one of my patients, who had apparently left the ward and gone back to his own unit. His Duty Officer arranged for his return as he knew he should have been in hospital for observations after his road accident. I was totally unable to account for this as all figures tallied with the names in the ward book and on the admissions list. A spell in nick loomed as far as I could see, as I was warned for Orders the next morning.
When morning came, the Nursing Officer who had gone off early the previous evening, arrived for duty. She had been told at breakfast what had happened. She assured me that she would come as a witness when I went on Orders, and explain fully what had happened including the fact that ward records were incomplete. Back now to my naivity-I believed every bloody word she told me.
At 8.30am I was marched into the Company Commanders office at such a pace that I found it almost impossible to keep up with myself. I swear blind that Michael Flattley got the idea for Riverdance from my display of legs, arms and God knows what else wobbling, shaking and flying in all directions. Thankfully the Mark Time order was fulfilled without incident, as was the "Escort and Accused-HALT!" The charges were read out by my mate, the R.S.M. There was the obligatory Section 69, good order and miltary discipline etc., plus the charge concerning "the one that got away." I don't remember the section or number etc. I was asked for my version of events which I gave, plus saying that the ward sister would come and give evidence in my favour. Everything stopped while a call was made to the ward. After a few minutes I was taken back in to be told that the sister had said she was not giving evidence and that what I had said about her not giving the report was untrue. Not being over experienced in matters martial and especially how not to be behave when on orders, I went into one. This did not go down too well and I was marched out even faster than when I had gone in. After an hour or so, I went in again. this time to be charged under Section 69 because of my behaviour. I had a vision as I stood there-I could see MCTC Colchester in my mind, even though I had been badly let down and the Sister had lied. Calmly the Company Commander reminded me of what was and what was not acceptable behaviour. He spoke of the events of the previous night and the possible consequences of not being fully aware of what was happening on the ward. He then "awarded" me three days Restricted Priveledges (RP's) This was followed by another two days on the extra charge, because of my outburst. A total of five days, but the two were to be served concurrently. Was I lucky, or did the award reflect what he and others knew not to be my fault, but that of the nursing officer? I will never know. What I do know though is that the nursing officer concerned left Tidworth very shortly afterwards.
I was born in the rather less than salubrious area of South London known as Battersea, placed in a childrens home and then adopted into Buckinghamshire village life when I was three and a half. In my early years, early being up until the age of fourteen or so, I was the regular target of other boys in the village, being beaten up regularly because of my parents addiction to religion and their not allowing me to mix freely with the other kids. With this background you might expect that I would be quite hardened to life, cynical and mistrusting of anything and anyone. In fact, the exact opposite was true.
I took everyone at face value, I believed everything I was told, I trusted anyone and everyone. I had a faith in people that remains with me to this day, despite many things that have happened to me during my military career. This said, as a reasonably fresh faced, if somewhat spotty seventeen and a half year old, I believed everything I was told, did everything I was asked to do and trusted everyone who was my senior. I honestly thought that was how life was meant to go on. What a Pratt!!!!!
The majority of patients in the main body of Delhi Hut were hardened and experienced. They had been places, seen things, read the books and amassed a fair collection of T-Shirts. Me?-nothing except village life and basic training at Rhyl. I fell for so many tricks it is embarrasing to even admit to it. Strangely though, it wasn't the falling for every trick in the book as perpetrated by patients, it was the gross indignity of being let down by senior members of staff that I remember most. I still do not understand why it was, and I'm sure it still is, neccessary to humiliate trainees to the point where they either make mistakes or give up completely.
As far as making mistakes is concerned, I remember to this day the way I was let down by a Q.A.R.A.N.C Nursing Officer, who enjoyed the rank of Captain at the time. I was on night duty at the time of the event. I turned up on time for the handover report as required. The Ward Sister was not there however as she had gone off duty early to prepare for a Mess function of some sort. A male nurse at Class 2 level, who later became a first rate Operating Theatre Technician, was left to handover to me. There had that day, been a rash of admissions including several minor injuries from a road accident as well as the pre-arranged admissions. The handover was not a complete one and for this I do not blame my colleague. He was as ill informed by the Ward Sister as I was to become.
I went about the usual ward business-I visited every patient, had a brief chat with the regulars and spoke in greater depth with the new admissions. There were no treatments but there was a drug round to do. By the time all duties were completed it was just after 10.30pm and time for lights out on the ward, except for the intensive care area next to the office-lights there were dimmed.
At around 11.30pm I got a call from the NCO in charge of Reception, a certain Lance Corporal who was Night Ward Master. He asked if all my patients were accounted for. As far as I was aware, they were. Numbers tallied with what I was given at handover. Strange I thought!
Ten minutes later I heard footsteps in the corridoor. The Night Ward Master appeared, accompanied by a young soldier with minor cuts and bruises to his face. This, I was subsequently informed was one of my patients, who had apparently left the ward and gone back to his own unit. His Duty Officer arranged for his return as he knew he should have been in hospital for observations after his road accident. I was totally unable to account for this as all figures tallied with the names in the ward book and on the admissions list. A spell in nick loomed as far as I could see, as I was warned for Orders the next morning.
When morning came, the Nursing Officer who had gone off early the previous evening, arrived for duty. She had been told at breakfast what had happened. She assured me that she would come as a witness when I went on Orders, and explain fully what had happened including the fact that ward records were incomplete. Back now to my naivity-I believed every bloody word she told me.
At 8.30am I was marched into the Company Commanders office at such a pace that I found it almost impossible to keep up with myself. I swear blind that Michael Flattley got the idea for Riverdance from my display of legs, arms and God knows what else wobbling, shaking and flying in all directions. Thankfully the Mark Time order was fulfilled without incident, as was the "Escort and Accused-HALT!" The charges were read out by my mate, the R.S.M. There was the obligatory Section 69, good order and miltary discipline etc., plus the charge concerning "the one that got away." I don't remember the section or number etc. I was asked for my version of events which I gave, plus saying that the ward sister would come and give evidence in my favour. Everything stopped while a call was made to the ward. After a few minutes I was taken back in to be told that the sister had said she was not giving evidence and that what I had said about her not giving the report was untrue. Not being over experienced in matters martial and especially how not to be behave when on orders, I went into one. This did not go down too well and I was marched out even faster than when I had gone in. After an hour or so, I went in again. this time to be charged under Section 69 because of my behaviour. I had a vision as I stood there-I could see MCTC Colchester in my mind, even though I had been badly let down and the Sister had lied. Calmly the Company Commander reminded me of what was and what was not acceptable behaviour. He spoke of the events of the previous night and the possible consequences of not being fully aware of what was happening on the ward. He then "awarded" me three days Restricted Priveledges (RP's) This was followed by another two days on the extra charge, because of my outburst. A total of five days, but the two were to be served concurrently. Was I lucky, or did the award reflect what he and others knew not to be my fault, but that of the nursing officer? I will never know. What I do know though is that the nursing officer concerned left Tidworth very shortly afterwards.
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