Harry was a Crap Hat

Harry was a Crap Hat - (Second Edition) At the age of sixteen I joined the British Army with every intention of winning a Victoria Cross for saving my unit from certain death. I really fancied making a career out of being a 'National Hero.' What I didn't realise at the time was that to become a hero of any kind requires, intelligence, charisma, physical strength, character, determination, courage, a focused mind, and - above all, humility. Well, one out of eight isn't bad I suppose, in fact, I'd have probably been in the top three when it came to humility. In regards to attaining all of the other attributes required to become a Nationwide Champion, my 'End of Term' reports would all have said things like, "Harry must try harder" or "Harry seems to struggle in these lessons." Joining the British Army's Royal Corps of Transport (RCT) seemed a fantastic opportunity to boost my personal profile and ego. In reality, my military career with the RCT and Royal Army Dental Corps (RADC) turned out to be somewhat less flamboyant. I served in the British Army for over 22 years, firstly as a Junior Leader, then a Regular Army soldier and finally a part-time Territorial Army Serviceman. I was given the nickname 'Harry' during my Basic Training as a Junior Leader in 1974. That name has now taken over from my christened name of Brian; even my siblings now refer to me as 'Harry.' At the end of my Basic Training I wanted to join 63 (Parachute) Squadron RCT, an elite Airborne unit that supported 5 AB (Airborne Brigade) on its Operational and Training Exercises. I was sent from Taunton, Somerset to attend the feared 'Beat Up, ' (a physical aptitude test), to see if I was both physically and mentally tough enough to become a British Army Paratrooper. If I eventually passed the horrors of 'P Company' I'd then qualify to wear the coveted Maroon Beret of the Airborne Forces. After four days, the Training Staff sent me back to Taunton because my sobbing each night was keeping the other candidates awake! Airborne Forces refer to every other soldier (regardless of Regiment or Corps) as a Crap Hat. They think that their own Maroon Beret is the sublime head-dress and that all of the others are merely 'Crap Hats' - hence the title of this book, 'Harry was a Crap Hat.' I'm certain that my reminiscences of army life will appeal to any former soldier and to any reader who appreciates a good laugh. Enjoy! Brian (Harry) Clacy