Non-fiction. Army life, the way it was

Army Life, the way it was!
Compulsory Military Training or C.M.T as it was referred to back in 1953 was for all eighteen-year-old males who passed a medical examination.
My turn had arrived and I soon found myself lining up for my uniform at the Papakura Military Camp in New Zealand along with hundreds of others in the same age group, we were about to change our lives taking part in some vigorous physical training and discipline. Most of us came from country towns and were very quiet and a bit shy away from the comforts of family living and like me I still hadn’t learnt a lot about worldly things outside the small community I was brought up in,
As we were informed, this the 11th intake of C.M.T, we were to be doing four weeks of basic training at Papakura, then six weeks of selective training, maybe in other camps around the country. Our uniform was strictly army style, two sizes, too big or too small, somehow I must have been among the average and most of my kit fitted. It consisted of a heavy dress uniform, plus what was called a lemon squeezer hat which had to carefully moulded into four creases coming up to a peek, two sets of fatigue uniforms for training and a set of lighter dress clothes for bull ring marches and rifle drill, plus heavy boots that took ages to break in.
The camps had been set up for world war two training before the troops went to war so everything was still there, huts that held about forty soldiers in two sections with our Sergeant in charge residing in a private room in the middle. There was a stretcher bed and bedding, a small side cupboard, which was for our personal items. We were instructed on how our beds were to be made, extra mess duties if they weren’t done to perfection. Not a speck of dust or dirt was to be found on the floors, the windows shining, all army clothes folded a special way and neatly put in the cupboard, shoes and brass buttons polished.
There was a huge mess room for meals, a roster for duties making the meals, dishing them up and doing the dishes. The quality was very good, as most of us had been used to plain wholesome food. The latrines and showers were not what you would call very private, taking a shower with many others took a while to get used to and overcome shyness. Every day there were new rules to obey but our hut 11 boys soon became good friends and helped each other overcome this new way of living.
The early morning wakeup call, I think it was 5.30 or 6.00am, took a while to adjust to as our young bodies were very tired with aching muscles every day from hours of exercise and marching. After the morning oblussions and breakfast, the early rally in the bullring seem to go on forever as our Sergeant needed perfection or else we stayed till he got it. Learning to take abuse from a corporal shouting into your face certainly made me feel like giving him an uppercut to the jaw but as the weeks rolled by you learned to handle the abuse and try and perfect what was required.
Our 303 rifles proved to be very heavy after an hour or so of training but as we all became stronger, so did the rifles become lighter.
The month of basic training went very slow and our brains had a lot to remember as everything needed many hours of repetitive work and towards the end we were able to look back and pride ourselves in learning this entirely new way of life in such a short time.
One particular march of twenty miles in full kit proved a painful experience, developing blisters, I was soon limping along wondering how I was going to last the distance, finally I took my boots off and finished in bare feet, very pleased with myself after noticing many stronger soldiers were giving up.
In that month I was able to go home twice to see my family, the other weekends I was on kitchen duty but were able to go into the Papakura town in the evenings, but hotels were strictly out of bounds as the age limit was still 21 years, of course our uniforms gave us away and we were refused entry.
The passing out parade was colourful and I can recall our hut 11 were awarded some merit for being well run and tidy, not that it meant a lot, an extra few shillings in our pay packet would have been nice.
Now was the time to tell us all where we were going for the next six weeks of selective training, somehow I was put into Army Service Core or A.S.C at it was referred to, this meant I was to become a driver of a huge G.M.C. truck and other smaller ones, I only had to move to hut 12 next door, not sent south where as winter was approaching it would be bitterly cold on manoeuvres and root marches.
After settling in, making new friends, I found life was a little easier, the sergeants and corporals who blasted us for a month actually became human and started teaching us in more detail the finer points of warfare training.
One morning several of our names were called and we were to report to the transport department for training in driving, we were each aloud to drive a smaller truck around the yard and told where different working parts were, after an hour were told to gather at a certain point to go for our licence, “what!” I thought, “I can’t drive that truck!” Somehow we started off down the road with the first soldier to be tested, lot’s of kangaroo jumping and grating of gears, I think we were more scared on the back of the lorry than the driver. My turn finally arrived, tough on me as we were approaching the town, more traffic and confusing signs, just my luck I was close to a round-about, I had never seen one before I came to town, my instructor told me to turn right at the round-about, I did! , Around the right side of it, I thought he was having a heart attack, he screamed at me to stop and reverse, then I was told to get out of the drivers seat. Back at the camp we were told to assemble and wait for results, they were duly read out and to my amazement my name was called as passing my test, the instructor saw the surprised look on my face and quickly made the remark, “ Yes Fitzthum, I don’t want to risk my life again with you”. Now that’s how I got my heavy trade licence. The instructor did tell me later that he thought my reversing was very good?
One weekend some of us on day leave only put together money and allotted one
person to catch a bus to Henderson, a town on the other side of Auckland city, go to a winery and purchase eight ½ gallon jars of sherry and bring them back for a party that night, he arrived next afternoon with only four jars, he looked terrible and was suffering from a huge hangover, it had been a hard job covering up for him so he wasn’t booked for being Awol.The remainder of the sherry was very good but made most of us sick, just as well we never had the lot.
Now six weeks had passed quite fast, I was actually enjoying this new life and quite proud that I had built up some muscle, made lots of friends, learned much about the army trucks, rifles, (never call them guns) discipline and knowing how to react to orders. All this made me a much more mature person, bringing out some hidden qualities I never new I had
Our passing out parade was a huge family gathering, I felt very proud and pleased that my parents had made the journey and I watched them, knowing they were very proud of their quiet boy who had finally became a man, the lecture on the way home was all about staying on the straight and narrow and how to treat ladies, etc.
I was put on the reserve list for the army. which meant three weekend training a year and a three-week camp once a year for three years. After the first year we were aloud to apply for discharge, I did enjoy these training sessions, especially the camp but it was time to get serious about my future and start to save some money so I could fulfil a dream of owning my own little business so I applied for and received my discharge from C.M.T but stayed on the reserve list for a further ten years, Luckily I was never called up for military service overseas but was prepared to accept it if called.
I think this compulsory training was sadly stopped at the 23rd intake; it was a valuable part of my maturing and certainly would help other generations to do the same.