"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора I didn't believe in giving a boy who was slow a hard time because it
wouldn't help him at all. All it would do was make him feel worse; if he needed extra training, we had to give it to him. I would encourage other people in that section to make sure they gave him extra training as well. I would tell them, "He's a part of your section; he's as much a responsibility to you as he is to me. When a recruit got to the battalion, the first thing anybody would ask was "Who was your training screw?" If we were sending tossers to the battalion, we'd be in for a hard time. The bullying that was supposed to be going on in these infantry battalions and training establishments could only have been very isolated incidents. I certainly never saw any of it. if you're doing your job right, you don't need to bully, you don't need to push and shove, punch and kick. What you've got to do is lead by example, show them the skills that they need to know, make it enjoyable, give them incentives-and they'll do it. By the same token, the culture within the army is quite aggressive and close to the bone. There is a need for hard, physical work and a hard, physical existence. But that's not bullying. If people can't actually survive that or adapt to it, or simply don't have the aptitude, that's when they should go. As the saying goes, train hard, fight easy; train easy, fight hard-and die. Within the battalion, if people weren't performing, they'd get decked. I had been filled in a few times, and after a while I always understood the reasons why. As for these daily scenes of regimental baths and scouring with Vim, I never saw it. I never went through any sort of initiation and was never present at one. People had better things to do with their time than They wanted to finish work, go downtown, and get legless. I still enjoyed the army, but it was all the niggly bits that I pissed me off. I went shopping in the town one dinnertime with another of the training corporals, a bloke in his early thirties, married, three kids, responsible. He wanted to buy a three-piece suite. He chose the suite and sat down with the manager to do the paperwork. The manager took a check for the deposit but then said, "I'm sorry, but you can't have credit without your commanding officer's permission." "I beg your pardon?" "You have to get this form signed by your commanding officer." "You're joking?" "No, I'm afraid if you're military, that's it." So here was a boy with responsibilities, a house, family, all the normal things. Yet he couldn't get credit to buy a three-piece suite until somebody who was probably up to his eyeballs in debt had had a chat with him and said, "Well, do you think you can afford this threepiece suite? Do you think you're responsible enough to buy it?" If there was any problem with the credit, they wouldn't go to the bloke who was getting the credit; they'd go straight to the commanding officer and say, "This man isn't paying." He'd then go on O.C's orders, and it would get taken out of his pay. I had been overdrawn once in my life, for E2.50, when I was nineteen. The letter from the bank wasn't sent to me; it was sent to the battalion. I had to go on O.C's orders and explain why I was e2.50 overdrawn to somebody |
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