Pit Closures

Back in the 1980s we were just starting to feel the effects of the Maggie’s Pit closures. I was at Peterlee College in 1988 and I wasn’t really getting anywhere. I was merely treading water. After a few upheavals and personal quandaries I decided to go for an adventure. I’m that way orientated and I like to walk down the path least travelled.

Across the street from the Peterlee Technical College was a disgusting looking building dedicated to shaping and putting young people on the right course for their future careers. I was told to head off to Horden ACIO as it was the closest Army Careers Information Office to me.

Horden

Now, Horden sounds like a dirty place, doesn’t it? Well, its name is derived from the meaning ‘Dirty Valley’. It’s a mining village, like many of the villages in the area, as it was in the Valleys in Wales. Communities sprouting around the ‘black gold’ and thriving off it. Of course this wasn’t going to last forever, much like the dinosaur juice in the North Sea. Aberdeen will be just as fucked as the rest of the mining communities in the 1980s.

The ACIO in Horden (which has been knocked down and replace with some lovely housing because it’s not a priority anymore), was an ancient looking School. It was used by the TA and no doubt the Cubs and Scouts etc. The Sergeant Major was taking the piss out of a young lad as he was leaving.

Get a fucking haircut!

“Get a fucking haircut as well, y’scruffy cunt,” he said to him as the young lad barged past me, a tear in his eye. The Sergeant Major then looked me up and down, then said, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m here for the Army and that,” I said.

“Is it Craig?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well come in. Take a seat. Don’t be shy, yer mother wasn’t,” he said and lit up a fag. He offered one to me. I shook my head.

Infantry

I sat down and we discussed options. He was looking at the results of my BARB test, the psychometric test I did earlier. I said I wanted to go in the Infantry and he told me to fuck off.

“I know it’s not like Rambo and stuff like that.”

“That may be the case, but we’ve seen your BARB test result. It’s off the fucking charts. So it’s a no.”

There were other options like the Movement’s Corps, but someone else was already in line for that and they had way more qualifications than me. The Intelligence Corps wouldn’t have me either as I didn’t have GCSE English or Maths.

The Tanky looked at me and nearly spilled his coffee when suggested Gunner Technical. He’d already tried to get me into the Tank Regiment. There was no fucking way I was going to be cooked up in a metal tank, especially after seeing what a tank round could do to the occupants after passing through the hull.

Royal Artillery sounded just fine to me.

After this I had to go get my balls checked and all the usual shite; height, weight, that sort of stuff at the nearby doctors on Sunderland Road.

Next on the list was a trip down to Sutton Coldfield. I’d never been on a train that long before and I was whisked away southwards to Brum.

Sutton Coldfield – Army Selection

We were stood in line in front of a seething, and menacing looking bloke in combats. You could tell he’d just been told not to shout as us too much, or swear too much as we were just civilians. Long haired, bedraggled motley crew of young spunkers, chatting and looking forward to a life of adventure and shooting guns. Such was our mindset at 17. We didn’t have a fucking clue.

It was 2 days of tests, mostly physical. I remember the mile and a half. We were aiming for 10 minutes and 30 seconds. This was very challenging. I got bang on 10 minutes 30 seconds. This was bullshit – it was more likely 11 minutes. There weren’t that many people who got under that time, though there was one whippet. There’s always that one whippet, that can run a BFT in under 8 minutes, but suffer on the CFTs.

The Interview

“Craig!?” I heard someone bark my name. Not a nice voice. A nasty voice from behind a wooden door. I was sat in a waiting room, like I was going to get a check up for some venerial disease. The rest of the blokes looked just as nervous as me.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah? Yeah? I’ll fucking lamp yer, y’cheeky cunt. Get in here.”

I knocked on the wooden door.

“Well, come in. I haven’t got all fucking day!”

I opened the door to be greeted with a seated bloke in uniform, looking calmly at me.

“It says here you’re from Murton?” He looked up from the papers, “Sit down.”

I sat.

“Yeah, I’m from Murton.”

“See that.” He pointed to a white crown badge on the forearm of his green jumper. “That makes me a Warrant officer. I won’t tell you again, but address me as ‘sir’.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Better. So you’re from Murton?” He sounded a little more nicer now.

“Yes. I’m from Murton… Sir.”

“Any pubs there? What I’m trying to get at, is do you drink? You’ve got here that you don’t drink. How the fuck are you going to function and socialise?”

“I don’t drink, sir.”

He looked taken aback. “Do you smoke?”

“No, Sir.”

“Fucking hell… Okay… erm.. Have you got a girlfriend?”

“No, Sir.”

“Have you had a shag?”

“No, Sir.”

He looked quizzically at me. “Are you a fucking queer? Bum bandit? Uphill fucking gardener? Marmite miner?”

“No, Sir.” He paused then seemed satisfied by this answer.

“Get the fuck out while I make my mind up about you. You weird cunt.”

I left the office slightly deflated and non-plussed. What the hell just happened? Have I just flunked my first job interview?

It was about 15 minutes later, he opened the door and approached me. “Well done, son. You’ve made it past selection now. Onwards to basic training. You’ll get Rail Warrants in the post. That’ll be after you swear your oath to the Queen.” He shook my hand and moved onto the next victim waiting in line.

Durham ACIO

I got the 154 bus to Durham a week later and had to swear an oath of allegiance to the officers, non-commissioned officers and whoever else might be employed by the Queen, as well as herself. I put my hand on a bible and did the speech and signed a contract.

A Major, old enough to be my grandfather, gave me some advice. “Take the rough with the smooth son. You’ll do well.”

That was in the morning. In the evening, I was put under anaesthesia and had a circumcision. Not really good timing as I was expected to be doing basic training in 4 weeks’ time.