‘Troops threw Humvees around like they were Minis’

You know your military career might be a short one when you’re standing with your back only inches away from a very long drop to the ground.

And, let me tell you, that stuff Rupert Brooke wrote in his WWI poem about a soldier dying in action means “some corner of foreign field that will be forever England” is no comfort at all.

Particularly when it’s more likely to be a quite a large area of a foreign field after a 50 foot fall — and you’re Scottish.

Only a day into a two-week annual training exercise with the Bermuda Regiment at the US Marines’ Camp Lejeune in North Carolina and I’m already beginning to think it’s a bad idea.

It all started well, of course, as these things often do. The enormously complicated logistics involved in transporting 180 soldiers, their kit and rifles, as well as all the other equipment needed, went smoothly — a tribute to the organizational ability of the Regiment.

Just a few hours later, we were at Camp Lejeune in surprisingly comfortable barracks and ready for anything.

Except, of course, in my case at least, abseiling down a dizzyingly high wooden wall made slick by torrential rain. In the dark.

The Sergeant in charge of the abseiling event assured me he’d done this sort of thing hundreds of times  while I was desperately trying to remember if he had perhaps taken a dislike to me during Recruit Camp just three months ago.

Between that and the prospect of being under the eagle eye of battle-hardened US Marines who have served in wars and trouble spots “from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli” as the Marine Corps’ hymn says, it’s safe to say I was feeling slightly nervous.

I did, however, live to tell the tale, despite losing my footing seconds after tipping over the  edge supported by a rope that seemed to be no thicker than a piece of string, and got to the bottom intact.

And even Lt Col Gonsalves, the Commanding Officer, slipped on the slick surface, to the ill-concealed amusement of those watching below.

The Marines, despite their fearsome reputation, turned out to be a friendly bunch — they’d even arranged for the electronic signs dotted about the base to flash up a welcome to the Bermuda Regiment.

But the number of sand-coloured Humvees, painted for service in Iraq and Afghanistan, dotted about the myriad of compounds in the sprawling base, were a sobering reminder that the Marines mean business.

And they’re surprisingly like their Royal Marines counterparts — the Navy’s private army, totally professional and quietly confident that, no matter how much coverage elite units get, they’re simply the best.

And so’s the food — if Napoleon Bonaparte’s maxim that an army marches on its stomach is true, the US Marines are easily capable of a forced march non-stop around the globe that’s part of their crest.

But there are some surprises — “breakfast potatoes” for example, which are little fries cut into cubes, basically. And I’m not entirely sure about “hominy grits” to start the day either. It, or perhaps they, look like watery and anaemic porridge that’s been ill for a while and not expected to live.

And they’re not big on vegetarianism — even the potato soup was booby-trapped with wee bits of bacon.

But it’s far from just eating well — it’s two weeks of hard slog. I’ve already seen the Regiment’s Guns and Assault Pioneers get up close and personal with an amazing variety of things that go bang.

And, let me tell you, if you ever thought doughnut charges were the latest price for a Krispy Kreme, you’re wrong. They’re special explosive devices designed specifically to blow out doors and windows with the minimum of damage to the surroundings.

Elsewhere, the Motor Transport troops were throwing around seven-ton trucks and Humvees like they were Minis after just a few days’ training and making sure everybody got where they needed to be on time.

And I joined soldiers from A Company when they went house-to-house kicking in doors and eliminating hostile forces in a small town set up to simulate urban warfare.

The Regiment medics — whose quality and efficiency were amazingly high on my list of priorities as I began my 50 foot backwards walk down a sheer slope — have also been busy.

They have been learning from experienced combat medics from the US Navy, who supply the Marines with some of the finest in the business.

Part of the training involves the medics’ equivalent of an assault course — but carrying a fully-laden stretcher.

And the medics will also get to use a hi-tech training lab, which simulates mass casualties using hugely expensive electronic dummies that react to treatment and even talk. 

And yet more is in store as the Regiment — quite literally — tries to get the most bang for its buck.

Boat Troop is honing its skills with the highly-regarded US Coast Guard, including high-speed pursuit tactics, as well as boarding and search techniques, classroom lessons in the law of the sea and the use of force.

And I’ll be looking in on quite a lot of it — I’ll keep you posted. Assuming I survive the experience. n