"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
run around playing stupid games.
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