Good times.

I've been away from the keyboard for a bit, I realise. Working on my driving, revising the things I did poorly on in my exams and recovering those lost scraps of knowledge from ages past to try to rebuild my melted desktop has been taking up most of my time.

Before all that though I was up at Kapooka, doing the reservist entry course and enjoying myself immensly. 'Kapooka Survival Guides' had been floating around my unit before then, and from what I gathered from those at my unit, I had expected it to be pretty tough. My assumption was that it would be physically draining - long, heavy pack marches with sleep deprivation and the like. In reality though; physically it was piss - most of us left less fit than when we arrived, but the attitude the staff take was something I think noone there had experience before, one which a few of us fell in step with in the first few days, and others never got to grips with. If you're looking at spending time up at Home of the Soldier, my advice is this: Disregard all your thoughts about proportionality. If you fuck up, they're going to yell at you. A lot. Learn from it and get over it, because they certainly will. The staff there are in the buisiness of training soliders - they are not (necessarily) bad people, they have just found that sadism works as an effective blunt instrument with which to train the rabble who come in. Kapooka is not hard (if you need proof, just look at some of those you've see march out) - but it is different, and you need to be prepared to change. Just enjoy it.

What I felt I got most out of my stay there was a greater understanding of teamwork. Working in a team does not involve each person giving equally to the team. It involves devoting oneself totally to the goal of the group and the welfare of those within that group above yourself, something I had never considered until then.

What follows are some of the memorable moments of my time at 1 RTB:

* * *

Getting off the bus in silence, the corporals telling us to take our bags in our left hands and enter the entry hall. Watching half the cohort take pick up their bags with their right hand and walk off. Then waiting in the entry hall for the platoon commander, the platoon staff lined up like statues - motionless - with identical thousand-yard stares.

* * *

Belaying the last person at the abseiling wall, who came rocketing down barely touching the wall.
"Slow down man, only a couple of meters to go."
He landed, turned around and looked up at me incredulously.
"Who the fuck are you calling man?"
"... Corporal, sorry."

* * *

Looking up at one of the corporals, and recieving one of the most vicious greasy's back. Then, later, going to him for help... "No no, you do it like this mate. Fuck, sorry - recruit."

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing with that machine gun?! No machine gun's tonight!"

* * *

"So, you do medicine do you?"
"Yes corporal."
"Are you a nerd then? I fucking hate nerds!"
"That's a little prejudice corporal."

* * *

"Our submarine, as some of you may have noticed, is taking on water. The only way to stop this water leak is to polish our brass. We must also be completely silent, to avoid being depth-charged."

* * *

"Get away from the slut's rooms ya sex offender!"

* * *

At the range, cleaning our weapons after a shoot.
"Man, did any of you guys ever play pokemon? That shit was awesome."
"What about Zelda? They were pretty much the best games ever made."
"Yeah man! Zelda was the shit!"

* * *

In the lines, a mate of mine left the room to fill out the medical restrictions logbook for when his pills would run out. The platoon sergeant walked through the foyer and told him to piss off, so he quickly did the addition and ran off. He came back and said, "Man, I think I fucked up my med book."
Later; the sergeant came around handing out admin.
"Ah, Recruit C! How many days are there in November, recruit C?"
"30, Sergeant."
"So why the fuck did you say your meds ran out on the 32nd of November?"

* * *

Our platoon commander, warning us of booby traps laid by guerillas in the local area. The next day, patrolling and watching the section ahead disappear under a cloud of smoke. They missed one.

* * *

Being the last ones to leave before Christmas, we had the place to ourselves on the last day. Squaregaited everywhere.

* * *
There were many more, but most of them are in-jokes. Good times.