Chris Lawler 'One Of A Kind'

CHAPTER NINE

  ROYAL MARINES

  Upon reflection Chris had been involved in two separate war zones in less than 12 months, and not having fired a single shot to protect himself during the hostilities. Furthermore, he had also had to run for his life on both occasions in order to extract himself from the hostilities that were developing around him. Although on a brighter note he had experienced a great adrenalin rush that many military personnel exposed to that way of life seem to enjoy. Chris was beginning to believe that it might be the right time to ease up a little, and to maybe settle down to a smoother life style.

  While taking a quiet walk around the suburb, his journey just happened to take him past a Royal Navy recruitment office. His curious nature got the better of him and he had to enter to look around. He wasted no time in walked right past the Royal Naval counter on to the Royal Marine one at the far end of the Office. Upon which he picked up a recruiting leaflet, and started to read.

  The Royal Marines undergo the longest basic training of any infantry force in the world a grand total of 32 weeks.

  The ordeal starts at Deal in Kent, for what’s known as square bashing. Learning how to take orders is a priority and part of the drill. While later they move onto the Commando Training Centre Royal Marines (CTCRM) at Lympstone in Devon. The Royal Marines are the only part of the British Armed Forces where Officers and other Ranks are trained at the same location.

  Officers and Marines undergo the same training up to what is called the Commando tests. After which the Marines go on to deployment in a rifle company, while the Officers continue their training. As Officer candidates are required to meet higher standards especially during the Commando tests.

  The culmination of training is a period known as the Commando Course. Following the Royal Marines taking on the responsibility for the Commando role, after the disbandment of the Army Commandos at the end of the Second World War. All Royal Marines, except those in the Royal Marines Band Service, are required to complete the Commando Course as part of their training. Key aspects of the course include climbing and rope work techniques, patrolling, and amphibious operations. This intense phase ends with a series of tests, which have remained virtually unchanged since the Second World War. Again, these tests are carried out in full fighting order, carrying a grand total weight of 32 lb (14.5 kg) of equipment.

  The Commando tests are taken on consecutive days. That consists of a nine-mile (14.5 km) speed march, in full fighting order, to be completed in 90 minutes, a speed of approximately 10 minutes per mile, round about 6 mph.

  The Endurance Course is a six miles, (9.65 km) course across rough terrain at Woodbury Common near the Lympstone camp. That includes tunnels, pipes, wading pools, and an underwater culvert. The course ends with a four mile run back to the to the CTCRM. Immediately followed by a marksmanship test, where the recruit must hit 6 out of 10 shots at a target without cleaning their weapon, it represents an enemy soldier at 200 metres. All have to be completed in 73 minutes (71 minutes for Officers).

  The Tarzan Assault Course is combined with an aerial confidence test. It starts with a death slide, and ends with a rope climb up a thirty-foot vertical wall. It must be completed in full fighting order in 13 minutes, (12 minutes for Officers).

  The Thirty Miler is a 30-mile (48 km) march across Dartmoor and roads, wearing full fighting order, and additional safety equipment. It must be completed in eight hours for recruits and seven hours for Officers, who must also navigate the route themselves, rather than follow an instructor with the rest of a syndicate and carry their own equipment. Although during the 1960’s the 30 Miler time limits was as low as 6 hours.

  The day after the 30-miler march any who have failed any of the tests may attempt to retake them. The point needs to be made that, unlike so many other military training courses, that for Commandos stresses the importance of the team, completing the-30 miler as a syndicate and finishing the nine miler with the whole troop, the overriding factor being the unity shared by the wearing of the Green Beret.

  Completing the Commando Course successfully entitles the recruit or Officer to wear the coveted Green Beret, but does not mean that the fledging Royal Marine has finished his training. That decision will be made by the troop training team and will depend on the recruit's or young officer's overall performance. Furthermore, Officer training still consists of a couple of more tests.

  The last week of the 32 is mainly given over to administration and preparing for the Squad pass out parade. Recruits during their final week of training are known as the ‘King's Squad’.

  After basic and Commando training, a Royal Marine Commando will normally join a unit of 3 Commando Brigade based in the West Country of England or on the East coast of Scotland.

  Royal Marines may then go on to undertake specialist training in a variety of skills, Platoon Weapons Instructor, Mortar Operator, Signaller, Clerk, Sniper, Physical Training Instructor, Mountain Leader, Swimmer/Canoeist, Chef, Landing Craft Coxswain, Telecommunications Technician (Tels Tech) etc. Training for these specialisations may be undertaken at CTCRM or in a joint environment, such as the Defence School of Transport at Leconfield or the Defence Police College.

  Some Marines are trained in military parachuting to allow flexibility of insertion methods for all force elements. Marines complete this training at RAF Brize Norton, but are not required to undergo the Pre-Parachute Selection Course (P-Company) training with the Parachute Regiment.

  Royal Marines in their infantry role use a total of 12 weapons ranging from semi-automatic pistols up through individual sniper and light support rifles, light and heavy machine guns, grenade launchers and anti-tank missiles to 81 mm mortars.

  Chris sat back and read through the leaflet a second time, only this time a little slower taking in every minute detail.

  It’s now or never Chris thought, the sooner I make up my mind, the sooner I will have a new future. He was so excited and asked the recruiter if he could undertake the standard education test there and then. Although he was not sure he would pass, not knowing anything about the type of questions that might be asked. However, Chris was encouraged when he was told that they were general every day sort of subjects. Followed by trying to place small wooden square blocks into different shaped holes. To which the recruiting Sergeant was only too pleased to oblige, almost rubbing his hands with joy. Now he was well on his way to making his monthly quota. To Chris’s amazement he passed and also chose to take a medical that same day. Using public transport, the Sergeant took him by bus to a local medical centre.

  Once back at the recruiting office Chris was asked to sign all the necessary forms and was informed that if he were successful they would be letting him know by post. Chris was quite pleased with himself, especially passing the written test. However, unknown by him at that time, he was later informed that nobody ever fails the test.

  Sadly, for Chris things did not happen as quickly as he had expected, and a couple of times he even thought of trying to get back in the Army. Although deep inside he knew that if he was to fail the SAS Selection course he would be trapped in the Army, and that was not what he wanted. He was still young and fit and craved to get involved in something exciting, with a little action thrown in for good measure. Any thoughts he originally had about looking for something local, and something easy had long since gone completely from his head.

  A month later he received his letter and yes he had been accepted. Just another month to wait and he would be able to get stuck in to the training.

  As Chris stepped off the train at Deal railway station, a very tall slim built man in military uniform strutted down the platform heading in his direction. "You one of mine" he bawled, "What's one of yours" Chris asked sarcastically. “Don't be smart with me laddie, you’ll make a bad name for yourself. I’m addressed as Colour Sergeant to you”. Under his breath Chris uttered, “Thanks for telling me,” not wanting to start off on the wrong foot. If his earlier military service had taught him one thing, it was to never
get on the wrong side of authority. The Sergeant then continued shouting at him “By the looks of you, you must be one of mine, outside and in the van”. With that he suddenly turned and strutted off down the platform looking like a tin soldier bawling at anything that moved, including other bewildered looking young men standing on the same platform.

  Chris made his way along the platform and out of the station building into the courtyard, where he was confronted by a van standing in the station courtyard, just as the Colour Sergeant had told him. The van was a dark blue Bedford Door Mobile, with the letters ‘RM’ stamped on the side. Must stand for Royal Marines he thought, or on second thoughts maybe it stood for ‘Right Mess’ something he thought he might be getting himself into. Once the van was full it sped off at break neck speed to the Royal Marines barracks.

  Upon arrival they were all ordered out, and met up with an earlier group of recruits standing outside of what was known as the ‘New Intake Block’. Where they were to spend a couple of hours filling out papers and signing forms.

  Later they were taken into a lecture room where the brain washing began. They were confronted by about a dozen different people all telling them what to do and how to go about it. However, for most it was very hard to take it all on board and remember it, not being military minded people. By the time the third person had spoken to them most had already forgotten what the first one had told them.

  One of the recruits was dying to go to the toilet. He raised his hand so that he could ask to be excused. When the Sergeant in charge finally took notice of him and asked what was wrong. The recruit replied that he wanted to be excused to go to the toilet. “To the toilet” he asked. “What’s a bloody toilet” the instructor shouted back, and then carried on talking to somebody else totally ignoring him. To his surprise his request was declined because he had not used the correct Naval terminology. He was in the Royal Marines now, and whatever he wanted to do he had to use the correct Marine slang word. He spent the next few minutes in dire pain crossing everything from his legs to his fingers. Finally, and to his relief a fellow recruit put his hand up and when asked what he wanted, he asked to be excused so that he could go to the ‘Heads’ whatever they were. However, it was not long before he realised and made the same request only to be told that he had to wait until the other recruit returned. The Sergeant went on to explain that he was not going to have two young men playing around with each other in the heads on his shift. Chris was beginning to wonder what on earth he had gotten himself into.

  The formation of a Royal Marine squad can take up to four weeks. During which time, they are given a bed in a dormitory style building. Draw all the necessary clothing and gear to get them started, while fill out more forms. Have lectures about what is expected of them, and what they can expect to be doing next etc. etc. It’s also a time when they sort out who will be their friends, and of whom they will be avoiding within the squad. The Squad was made up of about 43 recruits, 15 came from Scotland, 15 from the London area and the other 13 from all parts of England, Wales and Ireland. Some recruits had even managed to be transferred from other services, electing to join the Royal Marines.

  Once they had all their clothes and gear issued, the squad Corporal went about showing the recruits how to maintain it. The first thing they were taught was how to wash a shirt in a bucket, (or pail) called a Dhobi bucket. Then it was how to iron a shirt, how to darn a pair of woollen socks, wool being good for your feet when you are marching in heavy leather boots.

  Next came the brass belt buckle. When they are issued its edges were very rough and would not shine. First it had to be rubbed with an abrasive paste cleaner on a piece of cardboard and clothe. After many hours hard work its surface would be able to shine after ‘Brasso’ silver-cleaning polish was applied. Then there were the leather boots, of which the toecaps were expected to shine like mirrors. Once again upon issue the leather toecaps had a rough pimpled finish. The first job was to try and smooth the leather. This was achieved by an array of different methods, but mainly by rubbing it with the back of a heated spoon handle, many times. Although this method was not permitted by the instructors. It all had to be under taken secretly. Upon the instructor’s approval of the shine, and asking how it was achieved. It was simple everybody lied, saying that they had achieved it with only a cloth and polish.

  It took about four weeks to form up the squad, and by then it had been moved from the New Intake Block, into the main building that ran along the head of the parade ground. Then the instructors informed the squad that they were about to get down to the real hard training. Most believed that they were already doing it, surely it could not get any harder.

  While all were feeling very cold around the ears, displaying their new extremely short haircuts. Just as the Sergeant had predicted, they all looked the same.

  The Royal Marines are the top service in the United Kingdom, although they are part of the Navy. Who it’s always assumed as the Senior Service. This was constantly being explained to the recruit’s, that you could always transfer up the line to any other service of her Majesty’s Armed Forces. Unfortunately, you were not allowed to transfer down. Hence, the Instructors delighted in constantly ribbing recruits that this was the end of the line for them. From here, there was only one place to go and that was out of the gate.

  An essential part of the training was to learn the ‘Corps History’. The Corps revolves around its history and is very proud of what it has achieved over the years. Corps History was drummed into the recruits at every conceivable opportunity. Items like the Corps Battle Honours, and ‘Victoria Cross’ winners, there being about ten of them so far. The last one was, having been posthumously awarded to Corporal Hunter from 43 Commando, while in Italy during the Second World War. It was reported that he sacrificed his own life to save his troop from heavy casualties as they advanced over open ground just north of Comacchio.

  Had he survived he would have most likely been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. The main reason being that when you salute an Officer you are actually saluting his ‘Rank’, not the person. The other ranks (ordinary Marines) salute the Officer first. The Officer then returns the salute acknowledging the gesture. However, there is one exception to this rule. Everybody and that includes Officers, always salute first any person who has been awarded the ‘Victoria Cross’. At times you can imagine that it could be a little intimidating for Officers to have to salute first. Therefore, the quickest way to cure this problem is to promote the other rank with the ‘Victoria Cross’ to the rank of Officer, problem solved.

  Recruits also had to keep up with world events and news. At any time of day, they are asked questions by almost anybody of a higher rank.

  The Deal Barracks was where all the marching skills and drills were to be learnt. Known as square bashing, this was also where taking orders is drummed into your head and thrust down your throat at every conceivable opportunity. You are expected to do as you are told the first time around, and to not to ask why. For some it was a very tough lesson to learn. Deal is a place where only the strong and easy to adapt people manage to survive. If you can’t take it at Deal, there is no way that you will be able to handle it at Lympstone.

  Many of the recruits cannot take this type of military regime and either drop out as they say, or are thrown out. Or in a better language escorted off the premises. If you were very slow at picking things up you were what is known as, back squadded. Back squadding is where you are dropped back to the squad that formed up behind you. It was a dreaded scenario that most recruits hated, not wanting to go through a repeat of your past months hard training. Another bad thing about being back squadded was that it became hard to make friends in another Squad. The friends you make within the squad usually become friends for life.

  However, back squadding also applied to the people who broke limbs, or became injured during the training. Only they had to wait for the break to heal, before they were finally allocated a new squad. It usually ended up with them being a
couple of months behind their original one. In the meantime, they were not allowed to lie around on their beds. Even though they were almost crippled, they were expected to undertake other chores around the camp. Jobs that included cleaning, washing up in the canteen or the dreaded coal delivery to the Officer’s mess. However, this category of back squadded Marines was usually accepted back into the fold without too many questions being asked.

  Then there was Physical education, which was a necessity for all recruits. Having come from all walks of life it was not known how fit they were. Therefore, all had to participate in a program that included two sessions a day, to be run over a period of four months, the complete duration of their time at Deal.

  The Royal Marines had always prided its self in producing the fittest service personnel in the world. Circuit training was the key to this fitness, something that was very new and unknown to most of the recruits. In addition, there were lots of sport and cross-country running, weight training and much more.

  It was very hard not to be picked on, and Chris knew it was no good thinking that he would not give an instructor eye contact. It is drummed into you to always look straight ahead. If he was standing right in front of you and you moved your eye away from him, you were called ‘Shifty’. You would then be given a lecture that ended in his famous words, that “shifty eyes mean that you have a shifty nature, and a shifty nature was not to be trusted.” You just could not win, so Chris always did just enough to get through each test. Anybody that stood out was picked on and treated as if being too smart for themselves. Anybody who hung back was picked on as being a malingerer or to being just plain lazy. Not to mention that some of them might have been trying to work their ticket as it was known, to hopefully return to civvy street. Every time you did something wrong or something the instructor did not like, you were ordered to run around the parade ground, being half a mile in distance. Alternatively, you could be ordered to do ten press-ups or climb the ten-foot brick wall at the bottom of the parade ground. In doing so you would get your uniform covered in red brick dust, thus insuring that it would take you at least three hours that night to get it all cleaned up. Not to mention before that happened, other instructors would have given you further punishment for turning up to their classes with a dirty uniform, because you had not had time to clean it.

  Sometimes the Squad was marched into the drill shed and told to strip to their under wear. Anybody found with dirty undies were called ‘Crabby’ and were ordered to be cold water scrubbed by his fellow squad mates in an old iron bathtub a very painful experience. Recruits were expected to wear a clean set of clothes every day. It being explained to all Marines, that if you are on board a ship or in battle, you have to keep yourself clean at all times. It was further explained that decease could spread very quickly throughout a ship. It was also mentioned that at one time an aircraft carrier, had an outbreak of ringworm on board. The ship was locked down and the crew were ordered and confined to their mess decks. However, the ringworm still spread throughout the ship like wild fire.

  Chris tried to stay in the background during those early days, which was quite hard as he was tall and in some situations stood out like a sore thumb. He also had a tendency to crack jokes at every conceivable opportunity. Therefore, if he was going to blend into the background, he would have to completely change his approach, and while on parade keep his mouth shut. There was no way that he wanted to be the unlucky Marine, who is picked on at every opportunity. Although it was something he was never completely successful at doing.

  A squad is usually formed up with the tallest on the right and the shortest on the left method. It usually resulted in him being in the front row, and usually right under the instructor’s nose. He was usually the first or second from instructors left. However, it was very hard not to be picked on, and it was no good saying that I will not give him eye contact. You just could not win.

  However, Chris was determined not to mention that he had once been a member of the Special Air Service. That would really open the floodgate for ridicule from everybody. He believed correctly that he would be picked on at all times when volunteers were required, or asked what he would do in a certain situation. Then there were the occasions that he had not even thought about.

  Life at Deal soon dropped into a routine, up at 6am for a 6.30am breakfast, it being a crime not to have one and was enforced by military law if you passed out on the parade ground. Then there was the 8am parade, which meant being on the parade ground by 7.50am to be formed up by 7.55am.

  The Parade started bang on the stroke of 8am. Then there was a roll call, to find out who was late or who had so called gone over the wall (deserted) during the night. This was then followed by a full inspection of the recruit and his uniform. Not many people survived without being picked up for one fault or another. The punishment was usually a further inspection at the guardhouse later in the afternoon. Somehow they all participated in this ritual of daily punishment that was dished out by the instructors. Who seemed to delight in the thought that they had to ridicule them every single minute of every single day? Then there was the square bashing, marching here, marching there and marching every bloody where. To be followed by physical training, battle training, educational training, swimming and more physical training, all followed by more physical training. If they were lucky, they were allowed to finish around 4 to 4.30pm in the afternoon. To be unleashed into a frenzy of washing all of their cloths that had become dirty during the day. Not to mention the ironing, cleaning their boots and polishing brass buttons and badges etc. etc. All this had to be completed in the very close confines of their dormitory style room, amongst all of the other recruits. At times, it seemed more crowded than Piccadilly Square on a cup final night.

  The day in, day out discipline was very strict, while the punishment being dealt out was plentiful, that included extra kit inspection, extra parades, extra uniform inspection, extra drill, extra guard duties and extra fatigue work around the camp. Not to mention the constant running round the parade ground. With the constant threat of all that lot hanging over the recruit’s head, Chris did his best to get things right the first time. Later he was to proudly boast that during his entire time at Deal, he only ever received one extra guard duty, believed to be some sort of record at Deal. Unfortunately, he did receive a few runs around the parade ground and a couple of runs around the battle courses that came later.

  On one occasion while on morning parade the squad Corporal informed the squad that there was a certain clause in their enlistment papers. This informed the recruits that if they were not happy in the way in which they were being treated. As long as it was within the first six weeks of their training they could leave the Marines with no questions asked, and just walk out the gate. However, he went on to inform the squad that the six weeks had expired the previous day. As of today there was no way that they could leave, other than health issues or being escorted out. Not one of the recruit’s in the squad had bothered to read the contract and so none of them knew of the clause he had mentioned. At least he told them, even if it was a little too late to act upon. Although to be fair many had chosen this way of life and were quite happy to keep going. Their gaol being the famous Green Beret that awaited them if, and when they were successful and passed all the training.

  With the completion of the first six weeks it also meant that they were allowed out of the camp for an afternoon on a weekend. However, they were only let through the gate, after a fair amount of blackmail threats and intimidation from the instructors. You still had to undergo an inspection of your appearance upon presentation at the guardhouse, before finally being released through its gates. They were only allowed out in their uniform, as their civilian clothes had been taken from them upon their arrival at the camp.

  Although some of the recruit’s wondered whether it was all worth the effort, because it was just a case of looking around Deal and having a drink. With their short haircut, they would never have managed to pick up any o
f the local girls. The short haircuts told them that they were only passing through as recruits, and that they would all move on to another camp in just a few weeks. Who wants a boyfriend who is constantly leaving home and travelling around the world? Chris knew all about the hardships he had experienced with his own marriage.

  Once their marching skills had been put to the test in front of an Officer and passed. They were allowed to join in with the remainder of the barracks on their once a week march around the streets of Deal. Years earlier the Royal Marines had been granted the freedom and keys to the town, and were allowed to march through the town behind the brass band with bayonets fixed. The Royal Marines exercised this right every Friday morning at 8am sharp. Over the years this had become a great spectacle for the locals, but was also good for the majority of the recruits. It is hard to walk behind a brass band and not drop into step and push your chest out, as most of the recruits did. It was a great time for showing off and trying to impress.

  The Squad membership had dropped from the original forty-three members down to around thirty-three, as they lost a few recruits back into the clutches of civilian life. A few more were back squadded, while they had gained a further couple of back squaddies from squads ahead of them. One recruit who had been in hospital with a broken leg for six weeks, was back squadded two months, it must have broken his heart to go through all that training again. However, that’s what it’s like being a true Marine, someone who can overcome, no matter how hard the objective is, and that nothing will stop you reaching your goal. Called will Power, Stamina and the Embedded urge to keep going.

  The Royal Marine’s Latin motto is ‘Per Mare Per Terram’, ‘By Sea By Land’. Therefore, after learning how to march around a parade ground, it was only fitting that they should also undertake some form of seamanship, just in case they go to war on a ship. What better place to be taught these skills than at Portsmouth the home of the British Navy. Where they spent two weeks learning how to row a whaler (small wooden boat). How to hang and sleep in a hammock, splice ropes and wire, to tie knots and a lot of other nautical challenges connected with the Royal Navy.

  Then they were on the road again heading for Poole in Dorset, for a one-week stay. Poole is the home of the Joint Services Amphibious Under Water Warfare Centre. It’s is also the home of the famous SBS, (Special Boat Service and the Cockleshell Hero's) who carved out a very famous history for themselves during the Second World War. They were the Marines who under took a famous canoe raid across the English Channel into France. The name Cockleshell refers to the type of canoe that was used in those days.

  Poole was where they learnt how to disembark safely from a landing craft and to what was involved in underwater warfare that was carried out by the SBS. They are also known in the Royal Marines as a ‘Swimmer and Canoeist’, it being a rating that they are rewarded with on successful completion of their course. Their very small plain looking badge is worn on the top of their left arm to prove that they have been to hell and back, just to earn the right to wear it.

  They were also shown how to fight fires of all description and even went inside of a spectacular stage-managed building fire wearing breathing apparatus. On another occasion they were shown how to use fire hoses and extinguishers in all sorts of different situations.

  They then under took a long drive by three-ton truck to the Infantry Training Centre at Lympstone near Exeter in Devon, where they were going to complete the final most important stage of their training. Lympstone is where the Battle Training takes place it is the home of the so-called dreaded ‘Commando Course’. A feature they would have to tame and pass, if they wanted to win the prized Green Beret. This is what it was all about. If they wanted to earn that treasured Green Beret and become a Commando, then they were going to have to succeed at every challenge that would be thrown at them during the next few months. At least it was going to be a little cooler, because by now the summer was over.

  The day they entered the gates of Lympstone Camp they were greeted by a cold wind that they knew was going to sort the men from the boys. They also knew that most of the training would be under taken on Dartmoor, a notoriously cold bleak open wilderness area. If they thought that Deal was tough, then they were in for one hell of a shock at Lympstone.

  Lympstone was also the place where Chris started to excel and to stand out, while at the same time he started enjoying most of the tasks. Having earlier passing the SAS training, this course was made a little easier for him. He loved every minute of it. Being the type of person who packs a lot into a lifetime and having always considered himself as a hyper active person. Therefore, he did not have to worry about sitting around doing nothing. These four months of Battle Training were crammed packed with challenges and not a single minute was wasted. Dartmoor to him was a dream place. Of all the times he went out on its rough terrain, he never once used a compass, He just had the knack of finding his way around, as they were not allowed to wear jewellery and that included a watch.

  As in Deal, life at Lympstone soon dropped into a routine, only this time it was even harder, the only thing in their favour was their fitness. Deal had certainly built them up and made them very fit, but this fitness would have to be improved upon drastically for all the tasks that now lay ahead of them. Just like Deal the day started with an 8am Parade, although square bashing was now down to a bare minimum, just enough to keep their hand in. The emphasis now was on weapon training. Being taught all the weapons of war that the Marines use in modern warfare. Like the SLR (self-loading rifle), sub machine gun, Bren gun, 3.5 Rocket Launcher, Hand grenades, Mobats, Wombats. You name it they had to learn all about it, taking it apart, putting it back together and sometime while blindfolded. While at the same time still learning about the Royal Marines Corps History that included most of its earlier war battles, their victories and their defeats.

  The fitness side of the training was a continuation of what they had become used to while at Deal. It usually included lots of physical jerks and runs along with a continuation of the highly successful circuit training that had been perfected at Deal. Then there was the assault course that was positioned down in front of the gymnasium and the twenty-five-yard rifle range First you had to run to the course and then around it starting with a six-foot wide tank trap hole. They would have to jump over it, not being allowed to fall in. It was six-foot-wide by four-foot-deep and constructed of brick and usually full of stinking water. Then they had to run over a plank of wood eight-foot-long and suspended on wires so that it swung backwards and forwards as you ran. This was also suspended over a hole once again full of slimy mud. Then it was onto a long scaffold frame where you hung by your hands, no feet needed here, for once they could take a rest. Here your hands did all the walking as you swung from one bar to the next. If you were unlucky and fell, it was once again into a hole full of stinking water, and a return to the start to attempt it again. Then it was onto a twelve-foot high brick wall where you needed each other’s help in order to scale the obstacle. To then be confronted by a four-foot high solid wooden fence, that had to be jumped. You then had to run to a selection of long tunnels. That were all about six meters long by about a meter in diameter and constructed of concrete, being buried about three feet underground. As you entered any of these tunnels they were always very damp and smelly owing to the sweat that had been lost in them over the years.

  At times, they used a different style of tunnel that was set-up nearby. It was just along trench that had been dug and then corrugated tin had been placed over the top. This had then been back filled with a couple of feet of soil. The worst thing about this tunnel set up was that the instructors persisted in throw thunder flashes right behind you, to hasten your progress. Best described as a rather large Firework with one hell of a bang. Trouble was after a couple of these things banged off in your ears, you could not hear a single order the instructors were constantly shouting.

  Whichever tunnel they choose the recruit to go through it was usually followed by a
run back to the gymnasium where there were several ropes hanging from a scaffold frame, about twenty feet from the ground. They would all have to pull themselves up to the top and back down to the ground. If they thought that the climbing up was hard on their arms. Then they were in for one hell of a shock when they started to make a controlled return to the ground. Having pulled themselves up their arm muscles were aching badly. Therefore, the slide down was even harder to control. Some recruits would slide all the way to the ground. Allowing the rope to slide uncontrollably through their hands, to which they would receive very bad rope burns to the palms of their hands. These injuries could and in some case did result in their being back squadded.

  Then they would have to move onto a round brick tank of water four-foot deep. Passing above the tank was a rope suspended about eight feet above the water. They had to lie on the rope on their stomach so that they could pull themselves across the water. Once in the middle of the tank they would have to swing their legs off the rope and to hang only holding on by their hands. Once stationary they somehow had to swing their right leg back up onto the rope. Then their left arm up over the rope and to then pull themselves back up in to a position where they were once again lying flat on their stomach on the rope. Once in that position they would continue to pull themselves across the top of the tank to safety. Failure to get back up onto the rope meant that you had to drop off into the icy cold water of the tank, that lay below. This was not an easy task and for many they had to attempt it a few times before being successful. It usually had to be completed before you were finished for the day. Upon completion this was followed by a run back to the barrack room shower block. Where they had to shower, warm up and to then wash and dry out all their wet clothing and gear, for the following day.

  The camp also boasted a Tarzan course, the name Tarzan being used because it consisted of many ropes that were strung around the trees within the camp. The recruits would travel a distance of several hundred yards without their feet touching the ground, about ten feet below. All types of different obstacles were used, there being about ten different variations. Like laying on your tummy and pulling yourself along, or two ropes one on top of the other about four feet apart. On this particular one you placed your feet on the bottom one and hands on the top one.

  There were two side-by-side ropes about two feet apart. For this one you had to use your hands, knees and ankles to inch yourself along. Then you would have to swing on a single rope, letting go in mid-air as you aimed your body to land in a rope net suspended about ten feet up off the ground hanging from a couple of high trees. Finally, the high light was a scaffold tower built around a very large tree, about forty feet high. There a rope was strung from the top of the tree to the ground about one hundred feet away. They would have a loop of rope that was spliced together and called a strop or toggle, this was placed over the main rope to the ground. Then your hands were placed through the strop sides, one each side of the main rope and gripped it tight. You would then proceed to step off the tower and slide all the way down to the ground. At first your legs would buckle as you reached the ground and crumpled into an untidy heap or at least that is until you got the hang of it. All Marines knew this set up as the ‘Death Slide’. After only a couple of slides, it was loved by most of the squaddies, especially as they perfected their landings. Some nights after a few beers, squaddies would sneak up into the trees for a midnight slide. There had been a few accidents over the years, usually by people falling off the scaffold tower, a drop of about forty feet. The course was always out of bounds after working hours, but as with all rules they were made to be broken.

  All recruits used the rifle range at Oakhampton about a couple of hour’s drive from the camp. Dartmoor is shaped like a diamond, with Oakhampton at the very top. Oakhampton Camp had only the basic of facilities and consisted of a few wooden huts with cold water washing only. It was also used for live firing, which meant live bullets passing over your heads as you scramble through obstacle courses and barbwire. They would also have to walk in a live shooting gallery. As they walked along with a Sergeant right behind them, targets of soldiers would pop up all around them, giving them two seconds to fire at the target, and to then take up a secure position. All the time they would be stumbling through rivers, bombed out buildings and thick vegetation. Not to mention the Sergeant screaming in your ear, telling you what you just did was wrong and how in real life you would now be dead.

  It was always wet at Oakhampton, somehow it always rained up there, but life never stopped, rain never stops a war, or so they were constantly being informed. The most uncomfortable time for recruits would be the sitting around in the rain, while in wet clothes. Awaiting their turn to shoot and that could be five or six hours a day in wet clothes and usually in a cold driving wind that went through every stitch hole in their clothing.

  The famous Green Beret that is awarded to the recruit, on the completion of his final five weeks of hell that was known as the Commando Course. It also identifies him throughout the world as a Commando. Most countries have what is known as Shock Troops or Special Forces and use the same colour green to identify them as Commandos.

  Their physical training now doubled in intensity, and included a four-mile route march in full kit, with fifty-six pounds on their back twice a week. This then changed to an eight miler after a couple of weeks. Doubling along in a group was very hard for Chris, as his legs were very long and this meant that he had to take longer strides than the average recruit, so it was hard work within his group. There are usually three columns of Marines about twelve recruit’s long. In addition, the heat inside this group at times from sweaty bodies can get very hot, sticky and smelly, and steam can usually be seen rising from them. Therefore, he would always volunteer to become a traffic guide. They would have to run faster, but at least it was at their own pace and Chris loved that, the whole test seemed so much easier.

  Then it was stepped up to the sixteen miler, all these tests had to be completed within a time limit of about twelve minutes a mile. Or they had to do it all again the very next day, but in the evening as an extra test. There was no way that it could interfere with the normal day’s routine. In addition, there was always the threat of being back squadded even at this late stage.

  On the Wednesday of the final weeks training, the distance was increased to twenty miles, this being the last of the timed route marches on a road. This was the one that one the squaddie cracked his femur on. Finally, on the Friday the ultimate challenge the thirty miler that consisted of ten miles across the moor, and the remaining twenty miles on the road. The dreaded thirty milers, had to be completed in a given time that seems to have been decided by the instructors of the day, which for Chris’s squad was to complete it in under 7 hours. Failure to do so would certainly mean that they would have to do it all again the following day or the possibility of being back squadded.

  Chris’s squad had gone through some of the worst weather experienced at Lympstone for many years, which on its own had tested the squad to its limits. Somehow, most of them had made it, so here they were with this one final test and with snow having been forecasted for the day. Unfortunately, that would not be enough to stop their training, and so in true Marine spirit we set off.

  The first section of the march was undertaken as a group walking in single file across the moor. Added to their woes, as they set off it started to snow. Luckily they were still walking as a squad and being pushed ruthlessly by their instructors. They knew that the weather was closing in and would slow them down, so they wanted them off the moor as quickly as possible. As the snow became deeper, their feet started to sink through the thin layer making it harder to walk. However, those at the back had it a little easier walking in the footprints of those up ahead. Worse for Chris there were no traffic wardens required on the moor. There would be no stopping until they all got off the moor. The instructors feared that they might become trapped and they had no emergency rations or overnight protection with them.


  Upon the completion of the first ten miles they hit the main road. Here they split up into groups of three and got stuck into the last twenty miles. That included snowdrifts and slush. You name it and that day the weather threw it at them. They took very few rest breaks because they knew they were way behind their time schedule. Which helped to push them faster.

  Great relieve was had by all as they eventually turned the last corner to be greeted by a couple of Royal Marine three ton trucks awaiting their arrival, and under the time limit. Failure to do so, would have meant been given a second and final attempt the following day. Failure to do so meant a return to civilian life. However, lady luck was with them as the whole squad was awarded the treasured Green Beret.

  The final two weeks at Lympstone were known as ‘Kings Squad’ it was just a case of brushing up their marching skill and uniform inspections. It was also the time to volunteer as to where they would like to be stationed once they left Lympstone. Chris volunteered to serve in 41 Commando who at that time was based in Plymouth.

  As had been hoped, Chris received his wish and was posted to 41 Commando. Upon his arrival he was issued with all the usual kit he was going to need during his stay, and settled in for a two-year stay. However, his plan of not letting it be known that at one time he had served with the SAS collapsed. Upon arrival his new Company Commander who had also served in the SAS a few years earlier recognised him. The information spread around the camp like a wild fire. As did some of the heroics he had been given the credit for. The powers that be, decided that they could not let his military experience and knowledge pass them by. A decision was made that they should cash in. Within a few weeks he was made up to the rank of Lance Corporal.

  During the early months of his tour of duty with 41Cdo, an exercise took place in order to help explain to all Marines, that of ‘Escape and Evasion’. What was expected of them and how to evade capture, and how to capture anybody of importance? Chris was one of twenty Marines who were chosen as escapees’ while the majority of the unit would be their captors.

  The escapees were gathered in a locked classroom where all the details that was expected of them were explained. They were instructed to keep within the legal rules, not being allowed to break the Law. Upon which if caught they would feel the full force of the legal law. Other than that, they were informed that they would be taken by a truck and released at a secret location known only by them. The instructor then uncovered a map on a black board, and allowed them to see where they were, and to where their expected goal was, the ‘Butchers Arms’ public house on the eastern out skirts of Exeter in Devon. They were to operate on their own and to make their way unaided to the Butchers Arms. Where they were to approach a lady using a password. The one thing they were not told was where they were going to be released.

  The next minute the map was once again covered up, and the Instructor said, “the exercise starts as of now, and you’re all captured”.

  Most of them were interrogated during the night, and also tied naked to steel posts positioned around the parade ground, and were constantly doused with buckets of cold water at hourly intervals. Being the end of a British winter the nightly air temperatures were still low. In fact, two prisoners gave up as dawn broke. The rules being if you mentioned anything other than your name, rank or number, you had surrendered.

  During the early morning they were issued with a set of new cloths, as they were not allowed to take anything with them, especially money, and it was surprising where they checked each escapee.

  They were taken by truck and dropped off at Land’s End, and told to start walking east. They were also pre-warned that the remainder of the Commando, being the catchers could stretch their force across the whole of the toe of England. This would mean that they could check the identity of every single person coming their way. Although this was not practical, plus the civilians and the Police would never tolerate such actions. However, it did give them a strangle hold as any advancing enemy would have to physically pass by them at some point or other. The main objective was not only to reach the target, but also to have done it using their initiative and training.

  Chris’s main plan of action was that he would stick to the main roads as much as possible. However, he would be hitching a lift with whatever became available. But he would definitely be swimming every major river that crossed his path. He knew that the Marines would be right across the land from the English Channel to the River Seven estuary. So everybody would have to pass by them at some stage. This being the case it was only natural to surmise that all escapees would have to pass over the bridges at some stage. Unless some of them contemplated swimming out to sea and around the river estuaries, Chris guessed that a few would have tried that over the years. By only guarding the bridges it was easy for the Marines who would not need many men for the task.

  Chris climbed out of the truck at Lands End beach with the other escapee’s just after midnight. It was very dark but Chris was still in a hurry to get off the beach. He had once heard of a story that was told around the mess decks. That a group of guys had all been rounded up on the beach within thirty seconds of setting foot from the truck. There was no way that this was going to happen to him. It was agreed that for the moment they would all run as fast as they could to get off the beach and take cover. It was also agreed that nobody would follow anybody. Even if it meant some of the guys having to lye up for an hour in a hedgerow to let the others get a head start. The only thing in their favour was that there were two distinct separate roads that led in land, so at least there need only be a few of them heading up each road.

  Chris had other ideas he had holidayed here once and knew the area reasonably well. He also knew that at this time of night there would be no cars passing by for them to thumb down. Nobody drove these roads because most holidaymakers stayed in Penzance and that was twenty miles away. So he set off across the land. Lucky for him a full moon had just come out so it was going to be quite easy. His aim was to make Penzance before daybreak and to also pick up a few items along the way to assist in his swimming of the rivers. What he was looking for was two rather large plastic bags and a length of string. These were usually easy to find specially around farming areas. Even if they were only fertiliser bags, but he would prefer them to be a little cleaner if possible. As Chris would always say ‘Pickers cannot be choosers’. String could always be found usually laying around the place like snow or at least until the night you needed to find a piece. However, Chris was in luck he had found everything he needed before he reached Penzance. As they had been dropped off wearing Marine style work clothes. Chris had already changed some of his cloths by exchanging them with a scarecrow he had found while looking for his plastic bags. The other items he had taken from a caravan park clothes line just outside the town. Now he looked like a real holidaymaker with his Hawaiian colour shirt and a parcel rolled up under his arm. He had also grabbed a turnip and some potatoes so that he could eat while on the move. The second most favoured place to be captured would be in or around Penzance. The Marines knew that both of the coast roads had to pass close to the town and that most guys would stop to get a lift or to beg for food.

  However, Chris was long gone, he knew that his best chance was to get to the Mount (landmark) where it would be easy to get a lift. From there once again two main roads take you right into the heart of the county. What he did not want was to be amongst the other escapee’s all looking pretty much the same, and all thumbing on the same stretch of road, or would that would be coincidental.

  Chris could not believe his luck when a Royal Naval three-ton truck stopped to offered him a lift. Chris could feel the sweat running down his back. Having told the driver that he was just staying at RNAS Couldrose and that he had been out for the night and missed his lift home. He hoped that this would account for the way he was dressed. The driver dropped him right outside the Main gates. This was a very cheeky act, as Chris along with everybody else in the game knew that the Marines wou
ld be staying at the camp. Chris’s theory being that they would not expect anybody to be as stupid as to stop right there, he reckoned that it was the safest place to be.

  He made good time heading in land but upon reaching the first of the big rivers he hid in the bushes. From there he did a reconnaissance of the area and sure enough there were people on the Bridge. So he decided to sleep until it was dark.

  Once it was dark he stripped off all of his clothes and neatly stowed them inside one of the plastic bags and tied up the neck. Then he placed that bag inside the other one and blew it up with air. He then tied that one up as well leaving a long piece of string hanging from the knot. Chris’s theory was that in order to succeed you must always be warm and have dry clothes. So it was simple just swim the river and tow your clothes behind you. And that is exactly what he did making the least amount of noise that was possible. Once on the other side it was just a case of drying off the best that he could. Then to put on the dry clothes and off he set once again. He did this four times and for his trouble he was successful in reaching the ‘Butchers Arms’ public house just outside of Exeter.

  The next part was a little trickier as he had to enter the pub and find a certain lady that should be present. To then approach her with the secret password code. The first problem was that he did not have any money so how was he going to get away with being inside without buying a drink. Then somehow he would have to work out whom he had to approach. The lady in question was the wife of one of the Officers back at Plymouth, and in fact was the ladies free fall parachute champion at the time. However, he had never met her or knew what she looked like. He decided to just walk up to the landlord and start talking to him about the first thing that came in to his head.

  He had been on the road now for two days and nights and he was looking a little scruffy and unshaven. But he had come this far it was no good turning back now.

  Chris walked in to the pub and slowly made his way to the bar, but all the time he was looking around for the lady he had to contact. The pub was quite full and they’re just happened to be six females present, some with guys and one who sat alone. Which one he thought, as he suddenly had a brainwave and choose to head for the toilets. Once inside he was still in luck there was a guy in there doing his hair. Chris asked if he knew whether there was a lady out there that was in the service, her name was Peggy Anderson. Suddenly his luck was starting to run out as the guy told him he did not know.

  As he slowly walked away from the toilets he looked at all of the women one by one scrutinising every feature. He had to make up his mind, after all that was what his job entailed making decisions. Right there and then he made one and walked straight over to a table that had three guys sitting around it and to Chris they looked like service men because of their short-cropped hair. He walked up beside the lady bent down low almost on his knees so that he could talk quietly in to her ear.

  “Can I have a little bit,” he asked.

  With that she slapped his face and the three guys all jumped on him. Chris was no match for them, he had not eaten or hardly slept in the past two days and was feeling very weak. The landlord called the Police, and as he was taken away in hand cuffs. As he was being lead from the pub he suddenly noticed sitting in the corner was a lady smiling at him. It must have been Peggy the most unlikely looking Army Officers wife he had ever seen. While to fool him a little further she was also with a couple of longhaired youths.

  After telling his story that it was an exercise The Police knew all about him and he was handed over to the Marines, but not Plymouth as he had requested. The Police Sergeant insisted he knew what he was doing. In fact, as it turned out they were already aware of what was about to happen, as it was all part of the exercise.

  He was loaded in to the back of a three-ton truck, were he joined four of the other so-called escapees. They had been picked up miles away from the target. So far Chris was the only one to reach the pub. As they sat in the back with two guards sitting on the tailgate one of the guys secretly showed him a smoke grenade. Chris had no idea how he obtained it, just accepting that he had it. On the back of the three-tonner was a frame and this was covered over by a camouflaged tarpaulin. But the section up front just behind the driver’s cab was missing, so a wind was whistling through this gap.

  Suddenly and without a word of warning the guy with the smoke grenade who was sitting right beside the cab, just pull out the pin and leaned towards the cab and threw it in to the driver’s cab open right hand side window. All hell was then let loose as the vehicle swerved all over the road and ended up with a big jolt in the ditch. Before anybody knew what was happening all the prisoners jumped out and ran in different directions all-trying to escape during the confusion. This was going to be their only chance so they felt they had better make a good job of it.

  However, their running was all to no avail as they were very quickly rounded up by another truckload of Marines that just happened to be following a little further behind them. For the damage they had coursed they were subjected to a harsh type of punishment. They were stripped of their socks and foot wear and then made to walk through a field of freshly ploughed corn stubble. The stubble was only about four or five inches high and very sharp. Those that refused were physically beaten and hit with the rifle butt. Chris knew what the score was. They had done the crime now they were to pay the fine and a very painful one at that. By the time they reached the truck once more, Chris’s feet were bleeding very badly and he was in great pain. But there was no way that he was going to give his captors the satisfaction of knowing it.

  They were all interned at Stonehouse Barracks in Plymouth. But before they could get settled in it was straight into the interrogation part of the exercise.

  Chris had not slept or eaten now for almost two days so he was feeling very weary and tired. As he was ushered in to an office to face the interrogator he was cold and naked. He was made to sit on a chair in front of a desk that had an Officer seated on the other side. Beside him sat a very large Doberman dog that was glaring at Chris. Suddenly the silence was broken when a serviceman entering the room placing on the desk in front of him a tray that contained a teapot, two cups and a plateful of biscuits. Chris could taste the biscuits and just wished that they were offered to him right away. To his surprise the officer poured out one cup of tea. Great Chris thought that would do for starters. But then to his surprise he picked up the cup and then poured it in to a saucer, he then placed it on the floor in front of the dog. Who made a loud slurping noise as it gulped the lot down. The Officer then finished off the remainder of the tea from the cup. Up and until then not a single word had been spoken by anybody. Next the Officer started feeding the dog the biscuits from the plate. This angered Chris as he was starving and really wanted to try a few of them. Once all of the tea and biscuits had been finished and still without a word being spoken. Chris was led away to an area that looked like it was the dungeons of an old castle. He was then placed into a very small wooden crate, that had just one of its side’s open, but this had wooden bars across preventing him from escaping. It was so small that he could only just get up onto his knees, but at least he could look around.

  Every ten minutes the guards would enter the room and turn a cold-water hose onto him. Suddenly the sound of church bells rang out, and at times was almost deafening. There was no way that Chris could get away from it. He would just have to tolerate its constant chimes. He had heard of this before as a method of breaking a person. In fact, he had been told of one particular guy who thought he could beat his captors by insisting that he liked the bells, and that he always wanted to go back to the box to listen to them again. Sadly, it all back fired on him when in fact he did go crazy, and ended up in a hospital for the mentally insane in Plymouth. It surprised Chris that they were still using methods like this.

  After two hours of this torture he was taken out of his wooden crate and asked some questions of which Chris had been given the answers at the start of the exercise. But
he did not reveal what it was, so it was straight back to his wooden crate for another dose of the cold water and bells.

  Once again after a couple of hours he was brought out and questioned again but all was for nothing, so Chris was returned back to his box. But after that third dose of the bells that left him almost totally deaf for a week he gave in. After all it was just an exercise what was the point of going in sane at the hands of your own men. Although the one thing that was learnt by all, was what to expect if ever you were unlucky enough to get captured by the enemy. For him the exercise was now over but it had not been a waste of time. He also felt good that most of the other guys had given in long before he did. One guy had been made to fill a steel helmet up with mud and to urinate into the mud. The foul smelling contents were then put on his head and stayed there until he finally gave in a day later.

  Back in 41 Commando Chris was eventually enlisted to take a Corporal’s course. Something that took place before it was revealed that 41 Commando was going to Northern Ireland to help Police the troubled area.