So I suppose that I should explain why I was sitting in the back of a Military 4 tonne vehicle trundling through the streets of Hong Kong on my way to The Garrison Pool.
I have declared in my other writings that I was in the military. But the reason for this trip was to prove to the military that I was a Qualified Life Guard. On my arrival in Hong Kong, I was stationed in Gun Club Hill Barracks Kowloon.
It’s here that our battalion compleated lots of cerimonial duties, several border tours and regular military life. That was until someone had the bright idea to move our battalion to Stanley Fort on the far side of Hong Kong Island.
We were to Clean our Barracks and then hand the whole lot over to a Gurkha Unit. The Gurkhas were living in makeshift barracks up near the border with China. And now had the opportunity to move onto the Island. Gurkha soldiers are slightly different from your average Tommy. For example, if I instructed a regular British soldier to lets say ‘Sweep the Gym floor’. I could walk away and once the soldier had completed his task, he would come and find me to report the job complete. I would then go take a look, assuming all was satisfactory that would be fine. I would dismiss the guy or perhaps give him another task.
Not so with Jonny Gurkha. Let’s say I asked our Gurkha friend to do the same task. ‘Sweep the gym floor’ Jonny Gurkha would sweep the gym floor, and carry on sweeping the Gym floor until I returned and told him to stop.
With Gurkhas, you have to be very explicit in your tasking. This is in part because of the language barrier, and also they are trained to follow orders to the letter. But I must say I have worked closely with our Gurkha brothers and found them to be wonderful soldiers. I felt pleased that the Gurkha Unit was moving into real Barracks rather than the Nissan Hutte accommodation they had up near the Border.
On arrival at our new barracks over in Stanley Fort, things were not too bad. The barracks were much bigger than the small area of the Gun Club Camp. The accommodation was more modern and spacious. A big bonus for the families was that the housing was on camp not scattered around Hong Kong Island as Gun Clubs were.
There was one fly in the ointment. The Unit Swimming Pool was closed. And there was a deep joy to be had once you had finished work, going for a splash around in the pool. The families were feeling it as well. Because it was a great place to entertain the kids.
It wasn’t until I passed a notice board that I discovered the reason for the pool closure. There, in Black and white was the reason. We as a unit had no lifeguard, and the pool was to remain closed until one was found or trained up.
Well, there was I, a thoroughly trained and qualified lifeguard with a certificate and even a badge on my shorts. Time to go see the Regimental Sergeant Major and have the travesty of the closed pool sorted and swiftly.
With my qualification in hand, I presented myself to the RSM. Though pleased to find out that the unit did in fact have a lifeguard. I was not overly impressed that I would have to go to the Garrison Swimming Pool and prove that I could rescue a rubber brick in my PJs. But hey it’s the army, they don’t make anything easy. And it would be a day out over the other side of the island.
So there I was sitting in the back of a 4-tonne Bedford truck trundling through the streets of Hong Kong. Our Gurkha driver had stopped at all the other major military establishments and I had been joined by quite a few other candidates for aspiring lifeguard posts.
Looking around the back of the Bedford it appeared to me that some people had not fully been briefed, or had not read the joining instructions for today’s trip. The letter I had read stated quite clearly the manner of dress for participants. And I think I was the only person in the correct dress. Red PT Vest, Ironed. Blue PT Shorts Ironed. Black Plimsolls, Highly polished. Green socks, Clean and turned down to four-fingers high. Carrying one Army towel, bathing shorts, and a set of PJs. The joining Instruction had been signed by a PT Corp RSM, and one tries not to upset them.
With a loud hissing of breaks, we stopped at the Garrison Pool. Where the PT Corp RSM was waiting for us. If you have ever seen the TV series ‘It Aint Half Hot Mum’ Winsor Davies plays a Sergeant Major. This Chap was just like him, but perhaps louder. He stood there resplendent in immaculate white everything. White vest, shorts, socks and plimsoles, with his RSM’s Pace-stick tucked neatly under his arm.
As the driver lowered the tailgate of the Bedford, the RSM screamed out ” Everyone off the wagon. Get fell in on the line. Tallest on the Right Shortest on the Left”. As he indicated a white line that ran the length of the huge Olympic-sized pool.
Just as I thought, an inspection before any swimming. Well as I’m not a very tall chap I headed over to the left. It’s where I met Jonny Gurkha we were about the same height, and as the smallest, we were the last two guys on the left. The RSM was still screaming for people to get a move on, and toe the line shoulder-width apart.
It was at this moment I thought ‘I need a Shit Deflector’. So I nimbly stepped to Jonny Gurkhas’s right. Leaving him between me and the RSM.
For those of you who are not familiar with what a Shit Deflector is. It is a thing or other soldier that the person in authority can vent his anger on before they get to you, thus lessening the Shit you get from them considerably. Jonny Gurkha was going to be mine.
The RSM had called us to attention and was up the line still screaming at people for all manner of infractions. Hair is too long, the wrong footwear, incorrect towels. You name it he was ripping into each person he inspected.
To my left was Jonny Gurkha, with his dirty beret, totally wrong uniform, scuffed and unpolished boots, and no towel or PJs. On cue, the RSM arrived turning the air blue as he found fault after fault with Jonny Gurkha. Once he felt he had exhausted his wrath he moved on to me. Quite calmly he admonished me for scuffed plimsoles then back to full volume screamed: “Right Everyone in the changing room, you have two minutes to get changed and be back on the line in swimming kit.”
Having the least kit to change I was first back and took my place on the line. Way longer than two minutes the final people rushed out of the changing rooms and took their spots. Jonny Gurkha stood next to me wearing what looked like a linen scarf wrapped around him, definitely not army-issue swimwear.
Once we were all back on parade the RSM instructed us that the first part of the test was to climb to the top of the high board a height of 15 meters. We were to approach the edge, then step off, enter the water come up to the surface, swim two lengths then get out of the pool without using the ladders.
So at a jog, off we went leading from the far end of the line nearest the ladders. Up they went. Splash they came down one after the other. Jonny Gurkha was on the ladder in front of me. I could tell by the way he was not happily climbing the ladder this was unfamiliar ground for him.
At last, we got to the dive platform, there were two chaps in front of us to go then it was time for Johnny Gurkha and finally me.
Now as a Rock Climber and Mountaineer I have no fear of heights. But that is not the same for everyone and my Gurkha friend was uneasy up here, to say the least. He was hanging onto the guard rail with both hands and a look of abject fear on his face.
The RSM went to his default tool for situations like this and started screaming at Jonny Gurkha which really didn’t help matters. I on the other hand calmly said “It’s easy just copy me. And I stepped off the edge and plunged into the water below. Swam my two lengths and without the aid of the ladder climbed onto the Poolside.
During my swim, the RSM had been using all manner of cajoling to try and entice the poor chap off the edge to no avail. As I was drying myself off. The RSM screamed ” If you do not jump off that board I shall come up those steps and shove this Pacestick up your arse and turn you into a popsicle” and he then headed toward the steps.
It was at this point that Jonny’s fear of the fall was overtaken by his fear of the RSM and his Pace-stick. With a lost and forlorn look on his face, Jonny stepped off the edge. I would like to say he gracefully entered the water. Yet sadly this was not the case he in his innocence looked down for his landing, resulting in his body toppling forward. There was a loud slap as he belly-flopped into the water and sank swiftly to the pool floor.
Irrespective of what English Physicist Stephen Hawking said, time does stand still. It certainly did the moment Jonny Gurkha hit that water. Nobody moved, we just stood there, willing him to start swimming. I’ve no idea for how long the universal clock stood still. It may have been but a few seconds or an age. Then as one, there was a collective gasp. And at that exact moment, the RSM stripped his top off and in one swift motion like a Diving Cormoran plunged into the pool.
Surfacing with our Gurkha friend held firmly in one hand by the scruff of his neck, and his other arm executing perfect breaststroke actions until he reached the pool edge.
We helped our wet and spluttering comrade out of the water and laid him by the pool edge. The RSM now also out of the pool stood over him and demanded to know what in the Hell was he thinking, attending a Life-Saving Course if he couldn’t swim.
Jonny Gurkhas’s reply will live with me forever. Wiping the bubbles of spit and water from his face he looked at the RSM and said, “But Sir I’m Only The Driver..!”
Chesty Traveling 