Joining the RMP in Squad 8810 at Roussillon Barracks.

Our first day was 6th Nov 1988 - that's the day I travelled down to Rousillon Barracks in my first cheap suit. I left Chester Railway Station on the 3am train to London Euston. At the age of 19 I had already left home and was waved off by an old school friend. To say I felt lonely and vulnerable was an understatement and the thought of negotiating the London underground having never been to London frightened the crap out of me. I eventually and safely arrived at Chichester Railway Station and was able to identify other recruits who were also dressed in cheap suits. Our transport to Rousillon Barracks was waiting and we arrived at 1715hrs. (I have not been able to revert back to the 12 hour clock since that day). I was shown to my barrack room which I was to share with 6 other blokes. I had grown up with brothers but this was quite different. The sounds, smells and 'piss-taking'.

Having lived in the Northwest of England for most of my life just getting used to the different sounding accents was my first task. Most of the lads in my room came from the south of England. I thought I had this mastered until I met the lads from N.Ireland and Scotland - no, I was definitely bollocked, it was going to take my ear a while to tune into the delights of a Glaswegian accent. I picked a spare bed and looked around my space that was going to be my new home for the next 6 months. "Crap! What have I done." Yes I did say this and up to this point I had not met any of the squad instructors. My wait for this was short lived. Enter Corporals' McHugh and King. The first thing I noticed was their No. 2 dress uniform and "Twat" (awful word) cap. I was impressed by their smartness. Cpl McHugh introduced himself, my heart sank as his light Scottish accent crossed my ears. Was there anyone here from the North West? I was able to understand different accents - I had been fluent in 'scouser' for years but I was not prepared for the brilliant variety of accents our wonderful country produces - not all at once. Our Squad Sergeant Sid Hunt was on a course at this time - he joined us a few weeks later. We were in the capable hands of 'Shuggy' McHugh and boy could he shout!

When all the lads had arrived, we had a meeting where the ASI's gave us an icebreaker - an exercise to introduce ourselves. This took a while. I had been up since 2am and not had much to eat. I was bloody starving and they didn't feed us that night. We then were taken to the stores were we were lined up and in small groups taken for our uniform issue. Once completed we went back to the room for another meeting and instruction in how to iron the new 'iron retardant' uniform and how to make bed blocks to the regulation length of 21 inches, ensuring of course, that the lined pattern in the blankets all lined up. A length of 22mm copper piping had been cut to the required length and was our guide. It was to be presented polished each morning so the SIs' could measure our bed blocks. This task should have been on the Crypton Factor. I ended up bartering with someone to do it for me. I remember the lad sleeping in the next space to me, McVicar and yes, before you ask apparently he was related to the infamous McVicar. Well, he made his bed block once and spent the rest of his time before he got binned, sleeping on his mattress with just his counter-pane over him - a drastic measure for sure! None of us had irons or boards so it was a case of having to borrow one. You can imagine the situation, two or three irons between forty odd blokes all with at least 30 minutes ironing to do (we only had to iron uniform for the next day) it was chaotic.

On this first day our Squad senior was introduced to us. I cannot remember his name but he was a scouser that had been back squadded from 8809 for some reason. We now had time for ourselves in our rooms. It was late and I remember taking my suit off and putting a pair of tracksuit trousers on and a white t-shirt. I was still waiting to use the iron and was wondering if I would ever get to use my bed that night when someone shouted from the corridor, "BLOCK JOBS!" What in the bloody hell were block jobs? A short time later, as I was cleaning Trap 1, I found out. This was a massive event in my life as I had never had to properly clean a toilet before. I scrubbed the bowl as I thought it should be done - within an inch of its life. I was a bit pissed off when the squad senior came to check on me - why, was he any better than me at cleaning shitters? I don't think so! I realised the next day that I should have listened to him after Shuggy McHugh gaoled me for the single pubic hair found on the toilet bowl. I only wish DNA testing had been available then because I would have asked for it to be done. I wanted to nail the bugger who dropped me literally in the crap and gaol to that fact. In fairness, I always suspected it was one of Shuggys (head hair, not pubic).

I eventually got a turn to iron my uniform. Breathing a sigh of relief and justified exhaustion, I started to iron. This was difficult in itself as there was so much burnt material on the sole plate I am not sure any heat was coming through. I persevered. It was fairly quiet and there were only a couple of lads moving around. I think the natural pecking order had already started to sort itself out - you know what I mean, the natural leaders and the followers. Judging by the fact it was nearly 2300hrs I was a follower. What the fuc..... This was a bleeding conspiracy. How the hell am I to iron my uniform when he bloody lights go out at 2300hrs. I relocated to the corridor using the lighting from the ablutions to get my chores done and just in time as well. As I had just finished putting my stuff away the Duty SNCO came on his rounds. I was later to find out that it was a very good thing he did not find me up and about. I spent the next six months dodging the Duty SNCO!

Lying quietly in my bed on that first night was a surreal experience. Some of the lads were talking quietly, side lights had been turned off as it was after 2330hrs. Only the light from the corridor was doing its best to shine through the top window above the door. The lad next to me was from Manchester. Although I had no trouble in understanding what he said he was instantly unpopular from that very first night as he could snore for England. Not the quiet whistle type snoring but the earthquake glass shattering type. He lasted about two weeks before he left the Army. Just as my eyes were closing and being too tired to wonder what the next day had in store for me, the door flung open emitting a burst of fluorescent light into the room. I sat up and realised the lads from one of the other rooms had started some night maneuvers and were attacking us. Before I new it our room were taking casualties. We were being covered in squirty shaving cream. I thought at the time they were taking this 'joining the army' thing too seriously. The attack lasted less than a minute before the enemy beat their retreat. Not needing any encouragement I was out of bed, dressed like the others in my 'skiddies' waiting for a command. We all 'tooled up'. Some lads had short range weapons like the 200ml Boots own shaving cream. I carried a mid range weapon - Tescos own 250ml. One of the blokes had a beauty - Brut 500ml can. It was a big gun and we needed it for our counter-attack. I didn't want any of the lads to think I was chicken, so I made sure I was up at the front when we made our move. The only problem was we attacked the wrong room. We were counter-attacked again by our original enemy. I got separated and by the time they had finished with me I looked like frosty the snowman. This bit of fun was short lived. We cleaned up and smiling, went back to bed.

That is how I spent my first day in the Royal Military Police. Twenty-three weeks later I passed out on 17th May 1989 to the band of the Light Infantry playing 'Watch Tower', and a selection of music from police TV programs of that time like the Sweeney. From memory - Hague, Hawes and myself were posted to 101 Pro Coy RMP. King went to Cyprus - he was a transferee from the REME. Glass went to 156 Pro Coy RMP. I took over his Police dog when I was posted there in 1991. I do not know if it is true but I understand Neil King (ASI) died a few years after the squad photo was taken.

I was one of seven original 'day one' squad members to pass out (marked by * by their name) which is a pretty big achievement. On day one the squad totalled 44, at the end of basic training we were down to 31. After Christmas '88 the squad was joined by the "Jelly tots" also known as Junior Leaders, transferees and the WRACs. The squad went up to 65 in total but it wasn't long before we started loosing members. Some were 'back squaded', some decided a life in the RMP or the Army for that fact was not for them.

I have just dug out and watched my Pass Out parade video from May '89. The feeling of accomplishment that I experienced 20 years ago is still as strong now as it was then. It is amazing how 6 months training can change a person. I look back at my younger self and I am not embarrassed to say I am proud of of what I accomplished in the 6 months at the RMPTC and with what I achieved serving with the Royal Military Police in Germany and UK. I can honestly say that what I have learned about myself as a person including team values and comradeship during this time have been values that I have constantly counted on during my adult life. In addtion to this, I no longer have any trouble understanding different english accents.

Paul J Wilcock.

March 21st 2009