Watch it, you lot!

Although nowadays you may find it very hard to believe, there was a time long ago when I found myself embroiled in a Tough Tactics course, when a team of sadistic Army instructors tried to teach me and a bunch of other peaceful Royal Air Force airmen how to kill with our bare hands. I don’t think they succeeded, but they did nearly kill me in the process. At the end of the two weeks of hell I had lost the will to live, anyway.

However, thinking back, that was not the first time I had received lethal training, and I have certificates to prove it. When I was about fourteen, I joined the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade, first of all as a Cadet... At first the training was confined to drill and how pairs of us should carry an unloaded stretcher, at all speeds from a sedate walk up to a full gallop.

After a few weeks, we began to learn first aid. Our lectures took place in the large garage of a local GP, who delivered them. We were taught how to stop arterial bleeding, assist people who were choking, and treat fractures. I can still remember the mnemonic that helps in identifying fractures: “Please let sixpence drop into uncle’s cap” I won’t bore you with the full translation but crepitus and unnatural mobility come into it.

Eventually, we took our examinations, were declared fully trained, and received our certificates. Unfortunately, according to modern medical theory, almost everything we were taught is now considered to be extremely dangerous and likely to kill rather than cure. About the one thing that remains valid is that I know how to tie a reef knot rather than a granny. So if ever you feel in need of urgent assistance and you see me approaching, roll over and pretend to be dead. There is one thing to be grateful for. In those days no-one was ever taught how to give the kiss of life.