The story begun as "A troubled childhood" continues, as the boy from the children's homes exchanges one kind of abuse for another.

However, in this series of episodes there is also a considerable amount of humour intermingled with the bad times. These were important years for the subject of this autobiography, as they set him on the course that he is still following today, that of a caring, compassionate nurse with a holistic attitude towards the care of the patient.

Part 1

I took to the Army like a duck to water. I loved it! The discipline in basic training was firm, but nothing like what I was used to. My experience as an ATC drill sergeant meant that I knew all about rifle drill and weapons training. I could shoot, and I could present myself in a suitably military manner. I was also able to help my fellow recruits, who had come from all walks of life. The junior NCOs would shout and scream, as junior NCOs do, and we would be marched around at double speed with pack drills, clothes changing, exercises, kit and hygiene inspections - it was great!

I joined the Catering Corps because I was told that my catering qualification would give me A1 chef status. Needless to say, what I had been told by a recruiting sergeant bore very little resemblance to the reality of Army life. I have this thing about injustice and have often gone to the wall when I have seen an injustice being committed. So, as a soldier, I was fine, but it was when technical training began that my problems with the Army started.

The Army has a very effective way of training recruits and craftsmen. It is called "the Army way". This is not the way you are taught in college and this produced a conflict between myself and the instructors when I could not understand why they were doing things that could be done better in a different way. I was, in fact, a college educated twit who had inflated opinions of himself. My hero was the Galloping Gourmet (Graham Kerr) who was one of the first TV celebrity chefs and who I thought was brilliant and wanted to imitate. I thought, as I had been promised, that I would be cooking for officers and could specialise in the areas of my skill, namely sauces and cold meats. However the Army had a different opinion, which was frequently expressed by NCOs who had no catering qualifications. I was good at what I did and I knew it! As a consequence, I learnt a very valuable lesson about not showing how good you are to people who will not appreciate it.

The Army has a wonderful way of bringing discipline to the whole by making sure that the group is responsible for the actions of all the individuals. I think it is fair to say that I was arrogant and cocky. I was handy with my fists and kept ahead of the game. This type of soldier, I know, is not a good team player. Action was taken by my squad and company NCOs to correct the errors of my judgement and my attitude problem. I had the shit kicked out of me on corrective interviews!

But still, the more they pressured me the more stubborn I became until finally I was placed in the boxing ring with the company champion and I was hammered, legally! The good thing about pain is that it focuses the mind on survival. I quickly realised that I was doing things wrong and started to toe the Army line.

At the same time I was studying at night in the barrack room for an English O-Level. I taught myself the syllabus and asked the army education officer if I could take the O-Level exam. This was arranged and I passed. At this stage I made up my mind that I enjoyed the Army but didn't like cooking. As a result of a fight my nose was badly shattered and I found myself in hospital. I spoke to several medics and decided that what they did would be a really good job for me. On my release from hospital, I therefore applied for a transfer from the Army Catering Corps to the Medical Corps. This decision was one of the best I ever made, despite my peer group within the ACC trying to discourage me. I had plenty of time to reflect on this decision as I was soon back in hospital recovering from another corrective interview when my recently reconstructed nose went walkabout around my face. To this day I bear no malice towards that process, for it is one that I accepted as part of military life. It is a hard, masculine environment. It's not the boy scouts.

I have a system within me where I take pictures with my heart, and when I'm up to my ass in alligators these pictures can deaden the pain of the bites! One such picture was from the day on which I had to go before my selection board for transferring from the Army Catering Corps to the Medical Corps. I wanted to be a nurse, not any nurse but a State Registered Nurse. The competition from within the Medical Corps was intense and my prospects of changing from another corps were very low.

At that selection board I met a woman, a nurse tutor, whom I came to hold in the greatest respect, and not only because she had the improbable name of Major Wisdom. As for the board itself, I can only recall being asked by a colonel why I had chosen to leave a trade in which I was already qualified in order to enter one for which I was only marginally qualified. My answer to her was, "Well, Ma'am, it's all a matter of onions." She asked me to enlighten her and I explained that if you have been taught professionally to cut an onion one way and the Army requires you to cut it another way, knowing your onions will lead to conflict. At least this would not be a problem in the Medical Corps, as I would not be bringing any preconceptions with me.

I don't know whether my success at the selection board was because of or despite that answer, but the fact is that my transfer from the Army Catering Corps to the Medical Corps was duly processed. To my disgust I had to do basic training all over again as a transfer-in. However, once again I enjoyed the process.

© J K Adler-Collins 2008