The Late Maj- Gen. Patrick Dignan

Back in the 1960's, while based at Tidworth Military Hospital, I had the priveledge of working with a number of people who influenced my training and future learning. They ranged from Ward Sisters, Operating Theatre Sisters, Operating Theatre Technicians, and even  one or two Regimental Seargeant Majors!!!!

Above all those people though, the one name that stands out for me is a man that we Technicians knew as "Paddy" Dignan. Not that we addressed him as such though! Major Dignan he was at the time, a General Surgeon, which really means that he was capable of operating on most areas of the human body, although I would say that Opthalmic Surgery, ENT Surgery and Dental Surgery were not on his list of "To Do's." He was, to me and to many others, a Gentleman. I never knew him to once ignore anyone as he went about his daily work, acknowledging nurses and addressing them politely and with respect, and treating theatre staff in an equally respectful manner. There were of course, moments when it could clearly be seen that he was deep in thought as he walked through the hospital, his mind probably focussed on his next task.

With such excellent memories of this Gentleman, and the influence he had on my training, and that of others, along with his exceptional devotion to the treatment, well being and recovery of his patients, it was with great sadness that I recently learned of his death. I have attached a copy of the Obituary published in the Daily Telegraph, recording the passing of Maj-Gen. Dignan. I won't try to outdo this obituary, but I can add a couple of things that don't feature in it.

Maj. Dignan, as he was when I knew him, always gave the impression of loving his work, and especially his research programmes. His operating days were Tuesday and Thursday, back to back lists which means he was in theatres all day each day. We technicians looked forward to the publication of his surgical lists, with some trepidation-wondering just how many cases he was able to get through in one single day. I don't ever remember seeing short lists. I do remember lists with up to 20 cases though!!

Also memorable was the research programme he conducted with regard to the treatment of Duodenal Ulcers. The work that resulted from the reasearch was lauded world-wide when published. I can't remember how many Vagotomy and Pyloroplasty operations were carried out during that reasearch, but it kept us all very very busy for some time.

You'll notice I am sure, that I have headed this article Maj- Gen. Patrick Dignan. His full name though was Albert Patrick Dignan.  The Albert part of the name was never mentioned by anyone, let alone him. He is quoted as saying he "abhored" the name Albert. The Dignan part of his name is the anglicised version of the Irish name, O'Duigenan. In his book, "A Doctors Experiences Of Life," published in 1994, tells an amusing story of a car salesman and his insistence on addressing him as Albert. I won't disclose the outcome of the potential sale, you can find that out in the book. I would just say that if you should come by a copy of his book, buy it. I am fortunate enough to have a signed copy-NO its's not for sale!!!

Finally, I would reiterate my total respect for a man who became an outstanding surgeon, as well as being a much loved and sorely missed family man.

R.I.P. Patrick Dignan, born July 25th 1920. Died October 11th 2012.


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Seasonal Goings On

English: Tidworth - Tidworth Park Fine avenue of trees in Tidworth Park. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Now it could be, and it has been said, that I am none too bright for my age. Yes, even those closest to me have confirmed what others have thought and said.

The reason I bring this to your attention is thus. Try as hard as I might, I cannot remember what we used to get up to over Christmas and New Year back in the mid to late sixties, other than working of course. Christmas in Tidworth would have been as well celebrated by the men and women of the British Army, based there, as well as the families, as it would have been anywhere. Of that there would be no doubt.


English: Farmland near Tidworth Alongside the A338. Tidworth can be seen in the background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For my first three Christmases and New Years, I was a single lad with very little cash to spend, as the maximum pay I earned was in the region of £3 a week after tax in 1965. Mind you, food and accommodation were provided as part of my contract with the Ministry of Defence to defend Queen and Country, so I should not complain. (or so I was told) If anyone remembers better than I do what the scales of pay were at that time, I would appreciate you reminding me.

On the work side of things, as many military  patients as was possible were discharged and R.T.U'd. Sorry, that was jargon-unforgivable. It means Returned To Unit. Civilian patients were sent home, some to return once the festive season had expired, and wives and children discharged to home.

One thing I do remember, when working on the children's ward during the build up to Christmas, was the number of very young children being admitted via casualty after being brought in during the very late evenings and in very cold weather. I am sorry to say, that young kids became a bit of a nuisance to some very young parents who were likely to miss out on parties if they couldn't get a baby sitter. (Strangely enough, similar things happens these day in the NHS, but the nuisance relative is the elderly relative.)

On male adult wards at least, Christmas Presents were handed out in the form of boxes of cigarettes. They were boxes of 50 each. They were presents from another country and cost the UK tax payer nothing. Those that didn't smoke still accepted them, as they would become valuable in bartering later on.

Apart from working, as mentioned before, I have no recollection of any particular festivities. If anyone reading this DOES have any memories from that period, please use the comments facility at the end of this article. Thanks.

I Wasn't The Only One........

If you dig deep enough in the pages of this Blog, you'll find tales of my early days in nursing and how, from time to time, things didn't go quite according to plan. Although it is rather cruel of me to say so, I'm glad it didn't just happen to me!!

During my early days in Tidworth, I had the pleasure of working in the same unit as John Silkstone. John was a transferee from the Royal Artillery, who became a very popular Medic. John has kindly submitted a piece for publication, which is shown below. (If the name rings a bell, yes, he has contributed before, for which I thank him.)

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In May 1964 I was posted to the UN in Cyprus for 6 months, eventually returning to Tidworth in December 1964, were I then went on two weeks leave.

R and E DEPARTMENT

My leave over, I returned to BHM Tidworth. My new job was working in the Casualty department, and one of the first people I met there was Jan Lord who had been posted back to Tidworth from BMH Dhekelia Cyprus and so we started going out together.

WHAT ENTERTAINMENT!

Tidworth was only a small village and there was very little to do there. Most people went to the army cinema, which was run by the Army Kinema Corps. Douglas McLeod, one of the medics from the hospital, worked at the cinema and would always save Jan and me our seats on the back row.
With nowhere else to go, Jan knew she could always find me in the games room playing snooker with Sammy Shaw, Ken Brock, Pete Deck and sometimes Taffy Leek, just to name a few.
In the hospital library on a Tuesday night from 19.00 – 21.00 hrs, Colonel Harston the Gynaecologist would hold a jazz club night. One night he informed us that he had been told by the Commanding Officer that he had to stop the junior ranks from calling him Tony. His next statement was to say, that from this night onwards we had to call him Anthony.

NEVER MIND THE QUALITY, FEEL THE MIRTH.

One night I was on duty when an unconscious Ghurkha was brought into casualty. A Colonel whom I shall not name was also on duty. After giving the patient a thorough examination, he declared that the patient was suffering from urine retention. “As the patient is unconscious and won’t feel any pain,” he said, “I intend to exert pressure on his bladder and remove the blockage.”
I went off to collect a urine bottle; upon my return I placed the man's penis into the bottle. I expected the doctor to exert a firm but gentle pressure on the man’s abdomen; it’s not often I’m right, and I was wrong again. The doctor placed both hands on the patient’s abdomen and applied his full weight. The sudden movement caused the man's penis to pop out of the bottle, and the external pressure on the abdomen caused a small stone to be dislodged. The bladder, now being freed from its blockage, sent a stream of urine about five feet into the air. Seeing this eruption of urine, I jumped back away from the table. The Colonel, being of sounder stock, stood his ground.
The urine, not having the necessary velocity to escape Earth’s gravitational pull, now started its downward motion in the direction of the doctor. The cascading urine landed on his right shoulder and ran down his white coat. As a smirk spread across my face the Colonel said, “I suppose you think this is funny?”
Still gazing at the urine running down his coat, I saw that his right hand pocket, which held his stethoscope, was now filling up. This vision was too much for me and I erupted into laughter.
I laugh so much that I went into a hysterical laughing fit, and the anaesthetist had to be call out to put me to sleep. I awoke on recovery ward to find that my ribs felt as though they had been marched over by a regiment of soldiers. On top of all that, I was charged for insubordination, which got me another seven days restricted privileges.

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Thanks John.

It's Just The Little Things............

English: Tidworth - Derelict Bowling Alley This was the former Tidworth Bowl, once one of the highlights of Tidworth's nightlife. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The question I am most asked is, What was so special about Tidworth? Quite simply put-it was the little things that made it so special.

The biggest of the little things was the amount of trust shown in me-a young and former village boy whose only hope for the future had been that I was on the short-list as a future Village Idiot in the Buckinghamshire village in which I was raised. 

I believe Trust is something that people show in others, once a person has demonstrated a level of capability that can be demonstrated instinctively. Clearly, someone in Tidworth trusted me to do the jobs I had trained for. It was something I had never experienced before. Being allowed to practice one's trade without overt supervision is something rather special. (Just wish my wife had the same trust in me today-apparently I am incapable of hoovering the living room properly. And as for cleaning up in the kitchen-don't even go there!) After sufficient training I was allowed to practice nursing and Operating Theatre Technician duties both during the day, and at night in the Casualty Department, as part of a team and as an individual.

I have a humbling memory of an incident in which I attended a road accident late at night, involving three cars and numerous casualties. One of the casualties I attended to was a young lady who had clearly suffered a fractured jaw and who needed immediate treatment and oxygen therapy. Be as gentle as you might, treating anyone with a fracture at the roadside inevitably involves causing that person further pain and discomfort. In those days we did not carry much more than first aid equipment and oxygen in the ambulance. I did what I had been trained to do, but was not enjoying the reaction of the patient. Having achieved this and having also determined that she was the more serious of the casualties, we set off back to the hospital leaving the second ambulance team to carry on. While on the journey back, this young lady looked at me and smiled as best she could while reaching her hand out to me, which I took hold of. She trusted me. I have never got over that one incident and the expression of faith in me. A very humbling moment.

Another "little thing" that stays with me is the ability to tie a knot with one hand, surgeon style. I learnt this "skill" after a short while when training as a Theatre Technician. At first I was spell bound by this seemingly magical articulacy that surgeons, and doctors in casualty demonstrated when suturing wounds.  Silly I know, but I'm chuffed that I can still do it!

Freedom was something I enjoyed about Tidworth. Sounds silly perhaps, but where I was brought up it was difficult to travel anywhere. By the time I left Twyford to join the Army, there were just three buses a week to get about in. Tuesday it was Buckingham, Friday it was Bicester and Saturday was to Aylesbury. Miss one of these and it was awhole week 'til the next one. In Tidworth however, there was the Number 8 bus at least once an hour I believe. From one side of the road the bus would take you to Andover. From the other, it would take you to Salisbury. Never had such freedom been known to me. I loved it. Again, something so simple.

I loved the village as well. Yes, I know, another very simple thing. To me though it had more to offer than my home village. There we had one general store, a village hall, a butcher and two pubs. Tidowrth had so much more on offer. two cafes, a bowling alley, a YMCA, several Naffi Shops, a multitude of NAAFI bars, a Chemist, two general stores, a fruit and veg shop a ladies and gents hairdresses and a cinema. Who needed London when you've got all that? Different picture now I believe.

Last but not least for now, it was quite simply a great hospital in which to work. The people working there, both civilian and military, got on together so well. Each helped the other without having to be asked. Teamwork and camaraderie were the order of the day.

Would I have rather started my career in some whiz bang city hospital? Absolutely not!

Tidworth Social Life In The Sixties-Part Two

Tidworth - The Ram Public House A popular drinking establishment which was built in 1848. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)Where shall we go next in our whirlwind tour of the village of Tidworth and its entertainments? We have a choice of a Pub, A Bookmakers or yet another NAAFI.

We'll start with the Pub. The only public house I knew of was "The Ram." I don't know the origin of the name, but as it was in a rural area where sheep, amongst other farm animals could be found, the name certainly didn't seem to be out of character with the area. It was hardly a new establishment as it dated from 1848. It had worn well though, despite the passage of literally thousands of soldiers through its doors. I always remember there being a welcome given to hospital staff when we visited. I remember visiting, not too frequently though, with friends, and with my girlfriend, who later became my wife. I was not, at that time at least, too familiar with the ways of drinking and "knowing my ales." I will only say that the brewery supplying The Ram was Brickwoods which I believe was a Southampton brewery. I was told by the more experienced drinkers of the day, that it was "a good pint." This I won't contest-all I will say is that I have tasted others since then that suit my palate better. The favourite games in the pub were the inevitable darts and dominoes. I never took part in these as (a) I wasn't safe with a sharpened pencil in my hand let alone a tungsten tipped mini-spear, and (b) what the hell is this dominoes thing all about anyway? Way over my head it was, and still is! 

As popular as The Ram might have been with the local populace and the military, I reckon there was one place that was equally, if not more popular. What could this place be? It was none other than Captain Keith Hurts' betting emporium, the local Bookies. I have to admit to being attracted to the place in my early days in Tidworth. I heard so many of my colleagues talking about winning pound after pound in the bookies, that I became tempted to try and do likewise. Thankfully, I soon discovered that it was a fallacy that riches were just waiting for me to collect. My first Theatre boss was a keen visitor to this establishment-in fact I seem to remember he almost lived there! The bookies, strangely enough actually became a popular place for me a little later.

One of the ways that the Hospital Management Team found to keep their staff amused was by having Regimental Weekends. For those not familiar with this term, Regimental Weekends were a legitimate use of a soldiers time and energy in terms of using cheap, if not free labour at weekends to tidy up the local area, apply coats of paint to peeling woodwork, cut grass etc, so that the areas around the hospital and barrack areas were always "ship-shaped and Bristol fashion." Sorry about using a naval term, but I couldn't think of an army equivalent. Sadly though, they were occasionally used as a form of punishment. If the Regimental Sergeant-Major (RSM) and or Company Commander carried out a Barrack Room inspection whilst suffering with a hangover, or having lost at the bookies or whatever else might have upset them, they would declare a Regimental Weekend as punishment for even the most minor problem discovered during the inspection. To cut a long story short, we had an RSM with a heart for a short while, prior to his accepting a Quartemaster Commision. His wife knew my wife, via the Wives Club. I had a record of being late for work at one time, so, this particular RSM, and I promise you this is true-bought me an alarm clock to bring my lateness to an end. He would also, on the occasion of a Regimental Weekend, make me report to his office mid-way through the Saturday morning for "Duty Runner" duties. Always my task was the same. He would pass to me an envelope with his bets for that day along with cash, and send me hot foot to the bookies. From there, having collected his betting slip, I should return to his office prior to being dismissed for the rest of the weekend. All this happened because of the Wives Club. For anyone who doesn't know of such clubs, the Cosa Nostra could learn a lot from them in terms of influence!

The third and final social centre was the NAAFI complex in Station Road. Within could be found a Bar and a Store cum Supermarket. Without doubt, at the time I was there, this was the biggest store in Tidworth. Later a Ten Pin Bowling Alley was built next to the store. An instant hit, it served as a popular place to meet and have a burger and a drink as well as to hire a pair of shoes and throw overweight balls down an immaculately maintained runway, with the expected result that all ten pins would be knocked over as one. Not, strictly speaking, always the case for me. Nevertheless, great fun was had by many. It helped us while away an afternoon or evening. I look back and remember how I enjoyed making others laugh with my failures, while they continued to improve. I seem to remember that I never received an invitation to join the hospital bowling team. Still, their loss not mine.

As well as the complex having a bowling alley, it also was blessed with a manager who appeared to have been separated at birth from both a sense of humour and any conception of good manners. Popularity was not a word that featured in his vocabulary. Many a young soldier was removed from either the bar of bowling alley for at might have been a minor misdemeanour. Now, this is where the story really starts.

At this time I was married, and renting a small flat above the Green Grocers part way up Station Road. I had married before I reached the age of 21 years, so didn't qualify for a Married Quarter. (Don't worry, the wives club sorted that one out for me after just a few months.) At the back of the building was an alley way that ran the length of the hill, up to the NAFFI Complex. One Sunday morning we were awoken by a member of the local Constabulary. (My wife, bless her, immediately said that I had been at home all night and didn't do it anyway, whatever it was.) Casting flippancy aside, "whatever it was" turned out to be the discovery of the NAAFI managers body in the toilets of the club. All of us living in the vacinity were questioned for some time about whether we had seen or heard anything "suspicious" overnight. Regardless of the lack his popularity, he did not deserve to have his life ended in was was later reported as a violent way. The bowling alley was closed for some time. I will be honest and say that I was shocked by the whole affair. It took some time for the earlier happy atmosphere to return to the premises. Eventually there was an arrest and a prosecution for murder committed in the course of a robbery.

Well thats all I remember of social facilities in Tidworth from days gone by. I'm sure there were more. If you remember any that I have missed-do let me know, via the comments facility at the bottom of this article. Many Thanks.

Tidworth Social Life In The Sixties

Image via Wikipedia"When I was a lad........." How many times have you heard that dreaded saying? Usually it comes from the mouths of the older members of society and is often accompanied by a lecture/sermon. The lecture/sermon usually goes on about just how lucky young people are today. "I never had half of what you lot have got these days-and you still ain't happy."
Image via WikipediaHeaven forbid that my thoughts on how people like me spent our leisure time back in the "swinging sixties" in Tidworth comes over like a lecture/sermon. If it does, please look upon me with a certain amount of sympathy.

To put the period and the things on offer in Tidworth into perspective, I should explain a little of my background. I arrived in Tidworth from the Junior Tradesmans Regiment, Rhyl.  In those days Rhyl was a bustling holiday resort during the summer. It came with the obligatory fun fair on the sea front, candy floss, sticky sticks of rock and fish and chips by the pantechnicon full. In the winter it was a cold bleak seaside town with little to recommend it other than the Flamingo Cafe, or perhaps the splendid views out across the bay, which on a good day afforded a view as far as Ellesmere Port, Cheshire. Being a Junior Soldier, earning just 3/6d (went up to 6/- a week later) a week, the summer attractions were largely beyond my pocket. Some young soldiers got "support" from home in the form of postal orders. I was one of the many who didn't.

Prior to Rhyl, I lived in the small Buckinghamshire village of Twyford. There was little in the way of social life there I can tell you! The village hall housed a Youth Club that seemed to be available only occasionally. Not a lot to get excited about there then!!! To be honest with you, the move to Tidworth opened up a whole new chapter in my life, my social life that is. So what did we do to amuse ourselves back then?Those of you of reading this who remember more of the life we led in Tidworth than I do, please leave your memories in the "comments" section at the end of this article.  I'll then publish them for you, fully credited to of course.

The NAAFI is usually the place to start. The hospital had its own club/bar. My memories lead me to believe that it consisted of little more than a long bar, a room filled to the brim with tables and chairs, a fruit machine, and a toilet area. The air within the cluttered seating area was permanently blue. No, not with bad language, but with the acrid smell of blue/grey clouds of smoke. The decor was a kind of nocotine colour. I defy anyone to remember seeing any colour other than brown on the walls. You'd think that being Medics and Nurses, there would have been more consideration given to health wouldn't you? Not for one moment, the idea that smoking would lead to ill health didn't cross the mind of anyone using the place-or so it would seem in those days. Another aspect of defiance of any advice regarding future good health manifested itself in the amount of alcohol consumed on a daily, weekly basis. Medics have in the past, been renowned for their apparent alcohol consumption abilities. Members of regiments who held the belief that the average medic was rather less manly than others, were soon relieved of that belief  having lost in a drinking competition. I'm sure it is no longer the case and that habits have changed (as if!!!)

What about beyond the four walls of the NAFFI bar? Just along the road was the YMCA. I used to visit the cafe part to buy a Vanilla Slice from time to time. Not once did I find myself queing for service except during NAFFI break time in the mornings-good cheap place for the local squaddies for a cup of tea and a sticky bun mid-morning. Beyond the morning breaks, the place was not the epicentre of social events.

The Garrison area was blessed shall we say, with a cinema and a theatre. If I remember correctly, the cinema was run by the Army Kinema Corporation (AKC) It was a temporary arrangement, following the burning down of the original cinema, which was  down by what was known as Hampshire Cross. This was simply a cross roads point. It was rather more significant than that though. It was the point where the two "Tidworths" collided!! One part was in Hampshire, the other in Wiltshire. My memories of movies I saw in the temporary cinema are confined to Kubricks "Clockwork Orange." The Garrison Theatre, while not open every day of the week, did stage some excellent presentations. Most were visiting pop stars of the day performing their hits. I also have memories of dances being arranged from time to time. (I hope my memory is right about this.)

What else could we get up to of an evening, or even during the day? Staion Road was the "main street" of Tidworth. Here could be found a green grocers shop, owned by Shaw Porter. There was a chemist, a dry cleaners, a cafe and a NAFFI store. (There were other shops, but I don't remember them.) The cafe, The Vic as it was known was most poular with the hospital staff. So popular I would suggest, that if they stopped using it, it would have risked closure. There was a juke box that never seemed to be quiet for longer than it took to load the next disc, pretty young ladies serving the coffee and a good sandwich when required. An altogether good place to be.

As you might guess, there were more places than mentioned above in such a large and important Garrison village. I'll get on to those in the next part of this look at social life in Tidworth mid to late sixties. Look out for Murder Most Foul amongst other things!!

No Guard Dogs Available? Then Send For A Medic!

Image by Getty Images via @daylife
I am aware that from time to time, fellow Operating Theatre Technicians of a similar age to myself, will visit this site. Apart from one that I know of, all the others were trained in places as far flung as Catterick, Aldershot and Colchester. (I have a very very soft spot in my heart for Colchester-two of my children were born in the Colchester Military Hospital there, as well as my passion for Colchester United Football Club, please see the story below  about this weeks  victory for CUFC)

 Suffice it to say, all Operating Theatre Technician training followed the same training syllabus. Where we differed in Tidworth was what we did after training was completed, and in some instances, during training. These include performing Duty Escort duties and staffing the very busy Casualty Department at Tidworth Military Hospital. (See the story below which was published earlier.) There was however, a duty that I am sure was not part of any other Military Hospital based Operating Theatre Technicians CV.

The duty my friends was that of N.A.A.F.I Guard. (For those not familiar with NAAFI, it is an acronym for Navy Army and Air Force Institute, social club and shopping facilities provided to military families and service men and women. In Tidworth during the mid sixties, it was decided that the social clubs and bars needed a bit of an update. Some were rather rundown and smoke stained beyond belief.This included the Hospital Club, which was possibly one of the busier and better subscribed of the bars.

  Instead of renovating a whole host of rundown premises, a decision was taken to build a "Super Naffi" that would have several bars, a dance/disco bar area and a new shop and service the whole of Tidworth. At first it took some getting used to, but in the time honoured way, the local soldiers stuck to their task and settled in quite quickly. After a while though, trouble used to erupt, possibly due to the rivalry between the different Corps and Regiments based in Tidworth. Worse was to come. Break ins and damage began to happen. Just from time to time at first, but more frequently after a while. In an effort to reduce problems, soldiers on fire picquet duty nearby were detailed to keep an eye on the NAAFI and Royal Military Police patrols were increased. The success rate achieved by these two new innovations was zero. So what could be done to help prevent the damaging occurrences?

Meetings were presumably arranged (nothing like a good meeting is there?) but more hot air than the average Icelandic geyser might generate was generated. After a while, the penny dropped for at least one of this group of good, great and possibly useless bletherers. Why not put a guard on THE INSIDE? Wow, a breakthrough for mankind and the military. Despite the decision to do so, the issue was not immediately resolved. Just who would be invited to carry out the duty. The REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers turned down the invitation to take on the duty permanently, their guys had other duties such as on standby mechanic in cases of vehicle break downs ( no AA or RAC for the Army you know) The Regiments in place had similar excuses, sorry, good reasons for not volunteering their guys. So, what, or perhaps who, was left?

Hands up who said the RAMC (Royal Army Medical Corps)? Then you and a hundred others are correct. There was a whole hospital full of Medics after all. They would surely take on the duty. And guess what? Yep, our leaders, unlike the leaders of the other Corps and Regiments, said yes, just like the Man from Del Monte! Not once did they protest that medics had other duties such as night duty, fire picquet, duty escort, duty NCO, Duty OSM etc. No, we were to be assigned to the duty.

Just how were we perform the duty? We were given a mattress, a pen, a notepad, a signing in book and a telephone (not mobile) The idea was that we would patrol the NAAFI on the inside once it had been cleared and then secured. We would go from bar to bar checking for damage or signs of a break in. At midnight, assuming that we hadn't by that time found evidence of a break in, witnessed an attempted break in, been beaten to a pulp by an intruder of made a mess of our underwear, we were allowed to settle down to sleep behind the Reception desk.

I will be totally honest with you. This guard duty was not my idea of a good night out. Not only did I not look like a guard dog, but I could not, nor could I hope to display, the courage and tenacity that a well trained canine beast would. I was timid, shy and retiring and not in the least interested in stopping anyone from breaking in should that be his or their wish. A lone medic does not a hero make. My family motto does not contain any word that might possibly suggest anything other than cowardice. I was not the only one with a dread of carrying out the duty. I will not mention any names, but there was one of our number who had a bad reaction. One night when on duty, he reported a break in. True, the response was swift. Military Police arrived, secured the scene of the "crime" and took control of everything.

The medic on duty was interviewed presumably, and that should have been that. He had apparently done as required and prevented a robbery. The one thing that let him down though was that the glass from the broken window was on the outside of the building rather than the inside. It was later shown that this young man had a problem that required some treatment, which led to his discharge from the RAMC. I don't know anyone who knew this guy who didn't have some sympathy for him. He had been put in a position that he wasn't trained to deal with, anymore than the rest of us had been.

So what did this say about our leaders of the day? Nothing complimenatry I would suggest. The bottom line was quite simply,there are horses for courses. Before despatching the horse on the course, it must be trained to deal with all the problems that might be encountered while treading the course. Some refer to "the good old days." Sadly not all of the old days were "good."

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