Pushed

John Graham

On an army training course, as a seventeen year old officer cadet, I  was taken, with the rest of the platoon deep into a rocky limestone cave system, somewhere in England.  It was no Cheddar Gorge.  I remember no visitor's centre, no ticket office, just a field in the country with a hole in the ground.  Mere metres inside the hole one of the team broke their ankle. It seemed to take hours for them to be manoeuvred out of the cave and stretchered away. 

It was hours more for the rest of us to clamber to the bottom of the cave system.  At one point we had to abseil down an internal waterfall. I managed to avoid getting soaked only to be purposely stood under the cascade by the instructor while I removed my harness. It was an exercise in power, humiliation and control though it was called character-building. 

Disoriented, wet and exhausted, far underground, we eventually found ourselves at what we were told was the end. It never was the end on these things though.  We could climb back up  - once we had gone through the sump.  Everything on this course was like this.  You thought you'd reached the end and were faced with some new, seemingly impossible challenge.  

The last "beasting" or forced run of the course was indelibly called "A Bridge Too Far"and involved a log run over endless bridges, finishing with multiple circuits of the assault course in Aldershot used by the Parachute Regiment. 

One evening we stumbled down a hill after a day of hot hill navigation to see the four tonners waiting for us.  We knew we had to camp.  It all just looked a bit too idyllic.  And so it was.  Our dinner was not going to be rations that day,  It was provided - alive.   We had to kill tame rabbits by chopping them on the back of the neck with our hands.  It wasn't easy and they screamed like babies. At least we hadn't had to snare them.

On another blazingly hot day we pegged it up hill and down dale again for hours.  Finally, the fort, our base, hove into view.  One last big push! shouted the DS. If you all pick up the pace to the fort and keep together you will be going through those gate in a matter of minutes.  If not, we will go round the circuit again.  This was impossible to conceive but by no means beyond the DS to make it a reality. Mutiny was impossible.  You did as you were ordered until you dropped. That is why, from time to time, people die on these army exercises. They are pushed too far, they can't stop and no-one is keeping a close enough eye on them.  I did think the DS on our course were vigilant.  They looked out for heatstroke.  They inspected our feet.  Not that that necessarily helped much.  All of my toenails turned complete black.  

 Heading towards the gates there was a massive effort from the platoon.  We did exactly as asked.  Then, suddenly, Leeeft turn!  Everyone stopped.  There was nowhere to turn left to.  The cliffs fell away down to the sea.  Why have you all stopped? came the appalled question. We made our way gingerly towards the cliff.  There was a long, small, steep path down to a tiny beach, and the inviting blue water, far below. We arrived, in trepidation, at the foot of the cliff and looked about bewildered.  Why have you stopped?  So we all ran into the sea where we did press ups in the brine.  Then, we were to pair up and piggyback up the cliff.  I got a skinny guy with a head oversized for his body.  He was an oddball but eventually garnered respect because he could run and run even though he could carry no weight.  I was supposed to be carried by him. I still cannot remember being so mortified. 

In the cave system, the sump was a pitch black, narrow rocky passage, tall enough only to lie down in and full to the ceiling with black water.  It was 3 metres or 5 metres long, I forget exactly which and we were to swim or pull our way through. Terrified, I point blank refused. 

You never refuse, question or in any way seem to challenge the Directing Staff. Once, on parade a Staff Sergeant asked me a question. It was the kind of question to which you are not supposed to give an honest answer, but I did. I gave an explanation which he must have felt challenged his authority. Or maybe he just didn't think women should be on the course. It was the very first potential officer course run by the army with both males and females. Whatever the reason I was utterly humiliated. There is no point being angry because there is nothing you can do.  That is the point. 

One after another the rest of the group went ahead of me, disappearing into the sump. I didn't care how it looked.  I cared about nothing at all but not going into that hole.  There had already been many people injured off the course with broken bones. I was sure I would not make it through. I could get snagged, stuck, trapped, even if I didn't panic which was almost certain. And how would either of the DS at each end  of the passage even know if anything was wrong? I have always had a fear of being attacked, or trapped underwater or washed away by currents. I would never choose to scuba dive. There was a stand-off between me and the DS on my side that seemed to last and last. 

The common tactic at that time in the army - and maybe still - was collective punishment.  If one person did something wrong, the rest of the team would suffer.  Everything was done on that basis.  That was how they kept everyone in line. No-one was leaving until I went through. I thought of my drenched, exhausted, shivering colleagues but my fear was too great. 

Every day on that two to three week course was utterly exhausting. We were woken in the night and dumped somewhere on Dartmoor to get ourselves back to base using night navigation. Think map and compass, not night binoculars.In the barracks there was endless cleaning.  Any time at Tregantle  Fort that we set foot outside a door we had to move on the double.  Any time we were driven somewhere we would all fall asleep instantly on the floor of a three tonner. Once, abseiling, which was supposed to be one of the easier, fun adventure activities, was called off because of bad weather. We were all told to disappear. We hitched to Plymouth, went to a cinema and all fell instantly asleep in a long row in the dark. 

At the bottom of the cave system, I was still refusing. Eventually the DS made a concession. It wasn't five metres. It was actually just a metre, or three, I forget;  the point was, it was less far than they had said. So I went. There must have been relief but all I really remember is the cold and the blinding fear.

I am glad I did the course and I am pleased that I didn't quit because I nearly did, many times.  None of the men wanted to quit until the women went and the women wanted to prove they could do it like the men. I learnt that you are limited more by your mind than your body.  I learned the value of team support. I learned how people can control and manipulate others. 

We had weekend challenges to complete, without spending any money but with as much "style, flair and panache" as we could muster - as befitted potential British army officers. The first job was to hitchhike out of Devon.  Most people headed towards London. I remember trying to get myself on a free flight to Paris which nearly, but not quite came off. Instead I was scooped up by a magnetic, older candidate from a previous course who had been working as a DS assistant and taken to Henley.  He showed me how it was done.  He would walk in to stores and come out laden with free food but primarily free champagne - lots of it.  He was lithe, fit, and utterly confident.  He blagged his way in to private enclosures from sheer, charm, youth and self assurance. He had what it took. I never saw him again after the course. But I doubt he was ever forced, pushed into things.  He was the kind who jumped.