CHAPTER 1
The Cold War and Thatcher’s Britain
All new recruits enlisted in the British Army are required to stand in a recruiting office and swear an oath of allegiance to Her Majesty the Queen. For centuries this act of fealty remained largely unchanged; fresh-faced young men and women (most not old enough to legally drink in a public house) promised to ‘defend her Majesty, her heirs and successors in person, crown and dignity against all enemies.’1 After receiving a day’s pay, known as the ‘Queen’s Shilling’ (roughly £12 in 1988), the newly attested soldiers then went home and waited to receive instructions by mail detailing where and when their basic training would start.
For many school leavers in the 1980s there was never a question of them joining up. One soldier recalled, ‘In recruiting terms, I was what’s called an intender; someone who was always going to join from a very young age. I had no family who had previously served but I was infatuated with a life in the Army, particularly serving on tanks.’
Doug K. said, ‘It was the only career I ever wanted. I would have gone mad in a nine to five job.’ Rich G. came from a service background: ‘All my family served in the military, mainly Navy and Air Force. But my father joined the Army at 15 … the Army was all I ever wanted to do, and nothing else ever entered my mind as an alternative.’ David K. had known he was going to be a soldier since he was an 11-year-old cadet. He wanted to join the Royal Military Police but was told there were no places available at the Junior Leaders Regiment. ‘The recruiting sergeant, Queen’s Dragoon Guards, put on a video and as soon as I saw a light tank going airborne over a mound, I was sold. QDG it was to be.’ Angus T. knew what he wanted to do after he sat in a Chieftain tank gunner’s seat aged 11. He applied to join the Army before he left school, but got a letter saying there were no vacancies.
To say I was devastated is an understatement. A week later I had left school (with nothing) and started at Kwik Save as a stockroom lad. I reapplied the following year and was accepted into the Army Air Corps. A Corporal of Horse in the Life Guards was the recruiting sergeant. He said I could go to the air corps but I would have to wait six months, or I could go on tanks in the Life Guards where there was no wait. I signed up that day.
Simon J. had no real intention of joining the Army at 16.
I was playing a lot of football and got a YTS scholarship at Swansea City … I quickly realised football was not that exciting so when about ten of my friends decided to visit the Army Careers Office one day, I joined them … by the time the sergeant got to me there were no slots left in the Royal Regiment of Wales so they offered me QDG. I accepted and the rest is history.
Jules H. had a long family history of military service to live up to, so there was never any question. His great-grandfather was a Royal Artillery regimental sergeant major in India, and his great-uncle had died at Arras in World War I: ‘I signed up at 16 years old to keep his memory alive.’ His older brother, Andy, joined the Coldstream Guards before he decided to follow in his dad’s footsteps and join the Household Cavalry. ‘For as long as I can remember all I ever wanted to do was ride on the Trooping of the Colour just like my dad.’
Robert C. was another soldier who had been influenced by a family member. His grandfather had served during World War II. ‘He introduced me to Army life … he’d been captured in the desert near Alamein and he told me all the stories from a very young age … joining the Army was all I ever wanted to do.’
Any teenager who joined the British Army in the late 1980s grew up in a country dominated by one person. In May 1979, Margaret Thatcher became prime minister. Opinion has always been divided on the changes to British society that took place during her premiership. Once described as the ‘Marmite Prime Minister’,2 whether you loved or hated her, after 11 years in power there can be no argument that her influence and the policies of her government transformed the country. Soon after becoming leader of the Conservative Party in 1975, Margaret Thatcher quickly gained a fearsome reputation. Unlike most politicians of the time, the ‘Iron Lady’3 exuded strength at home and abroad.
For the next three years it looked as though the Conservatives would win any election if and when it was called. By the time the country went to the polls on 3 May 1979, it had been subjected to what became known as the ‘Winter of Discontent’. The harshest winter for 16 years was coupled with crippling strikes and rampant inflation; by the time spring flowers were blooming, the country was ready for a change. Soon after entering No. 10 Downing Street with a 44-seat majority, Britain’s first woman prime minister and her cabinet went about the task of fulfilling promises. Because of the dire economic situation her government faced over the first few years in office, she could not implement the radical changes she would have liked; only later in the decade would the full effects of ‘Thatcherism’ be felt.
In the spring of 1982, despite an improving economy, Margaret Thatcher was still extremely unpopular. Her attempts to clamp down on trade union power had provoked more industrial unrest. Selling off nationalised industries and a heavyhanded approach to control inflation were hurting the poor and middle classes. Unemployment was rising, and racial and class tensions turned into violent riots in London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, and Leeds. Despite the political headwinds, Margaret Thatcher and the Conservative Party would win a landslide victory in the General Election of June 1983. It was thanks in no small part to an event that took place 8,000 miles away from Westminster.
For thousands of soldiers who joined the Army in the late 1980s, the Falklands War had a massive influence on their decision. After the task force set sail for the South Atlantic in early April 1982, the British public was engrossed in the ensuing events for the next 74 days. Soldier B. ‘followed every minute of the Falklands War’, wishing he was old enough to join up. Angus T. said, ‘When the Falklands started, I was in the Army Cadet Force, hoping we would be called up – how naive.’
Shaun G. remembers the task force leaving Southampton. ‘We went down to the River Solent to watch the ships sailing away to this far-flung island that no one had ever heard of, then went down there again to watch them return.’ Jules H. had a morning paper round. ‘During the Falklands war I was late for school every day – on my round I would stop and read all the stories and articles about the war.’
With non-stop coverage on radio and television, impressionable young men and women watched and listened, not fully comprehending the grim realities of war. Soldier G. recalls some youthful jingoism. ‘The Falklands was fascinating to me because all I wanted to be was a soldier. The dreadful events never really dawned on me at the age of 12 … only after my first tour of Iraq in 2004 at the age of 35 did I fully understand the true nature of war.’ For Stuart B., the cost of the conflict hit close to home.
The Falklands was a big part of my life and I watched the reports on TV on the edge of my seat. Private Steven Illingsworth, 2nd Battalion, the Parachute Regiment, was a former pupil at Edlington Comprehensive School and was killed at Goose Green. This first sparked my interest in the Parachute Regiment… I knew what I wanted to be when I left school.
Martin M. was just 14 years old.
The Falklands War was probably the biggest and most influential event of my life. I was utterly obsessed with it; I watched every news bulletin and read every newspaper. Suddenly I knew what I was going to do when I left school … I was going to serve my country like the brave men I’d watched on the BBC and I was going to go to war. How naive was I?
After the Union Flag flew again over Port Stanley and the last Argentine invaders had left, the task force returned home to scenes of jubilation not seen since the end of World War II.
Even though Britain was gripped with a new nationalistic fervour, not everyone who joined the Army in the late 1980s did so because of the Falklands. Despite an improving economy, the future for industries including coal, steel, ship-building, and large manufacturing companies was not bright. Thousands of school leavers struggling to join a shrinking workforce started to look at a military career as a viable alternative. Shaun G. weighed up his options in Southampton. ‘The docks had almost closed completely so the only options available were college, an apprenticeship or the Army – I chose the latter.’
Before Neil S. joined the Royal Engineers he had grown up in Wallsend on the River Tyne. ‘There was nothing to do … I was bored at the thought of never leaving my home town … Everyone who left school went to work at Swan Hunters Shipyard; the talk of this closing down and having nowhere to work helped me make the decision to join up.’
It was not only urban areas where jobs were scarce that enticed some into a military career. ‘I lived in the north of Scotland … jobs were not that readily available, so the Army seemed like a good idea at the time.’ Conrad P. grew up in the mining valleys of South Wales. ‘I was leaving school and wanted a job and money; the mines had closed and poverty was rife. So, the Army it was.’
For some, poor employment options were coupled with a real possibility of their lives going in a very different direction. ‘I left school with nothing but a bad report and no other option but joining the military. I’d had several run-ins with local authorities and had gotten off with just a warning … the future wasn’t looking bright. Luckily I was accepted by the Army before I ended up doing some time.’ Paul H. tried to join up as soon as he could for the same reason. ‘Jobs at the steel works were drying up and even though most of my family worked there I was not guaranteed a job … I got in with the wrong bunch, was always linked to minor trouble and would have ended up serving at Her Majesty’s pleasure – my friends did.’
From the early days of her premiership, Margaret Thatcher was determined to reduce the power of the trade unions. The previous Conservative Party government of Edward Heath had been brought down by industrial action. Although she strengthened anti-union laws, she knew the country was not strong enough to withstand a national strike. In 1981, when the National Union of Miners (NUM) threatened to walk-out over proposed pit closures, she backed down. Many in her own party saw this as a humiliation, but avoiding industrial action bought her time to put in place a longer-term strategy.
The 1983 election gave the Conservative party an increased majority of 144 seats and handed the Labour Party its worst ever defeat. Margaret Thatcher now felt emboldened. Soldier A. said, ‘She’d dealt with the Argies, now she was going to deal with the miners.’ Over the previous two years coal stocks were quietly brought up to the highest possible levels, fleets of private non-union hauliers were placed on standby, and chief constables were told to prepare contingency plans to move officers all over the country to prevent pickets from forming. She also made a major effort to split the NUM, enticing miners in the Midlands to stay at work. The government further isolated the NUM by dealing with other trade unions individually. The collective bargaining system that gave the Trades Union Congress (TUC) such power in the 1970s was being systematically dismantled.
In March 1984, the National Coal Board announced it was closing 20 inefficient pits. Six days later, local strikes received support from NUM leader Arthur Scargill who called on all NUM members to action. The strike not only split opinion across the country, but it saw violent clashes between police and striking miners as well as fighting among factions within the TUC. It brought the word ‘scab’ (strike breakers) into the public consciousness and caused infighting within mining communities and families. The enmity caused by the strike is still felt today. Although not affecting the military directly, it did divide servicemen whose families lived in mining communities on both sides. And for those who were still at school, not only was the strike a major event during their formative years, but the resulting pit closures were another reason to leave their home towns and join the Army.
Simon J. lived in Merthyr Tydfil, South Wales, with his mother, who had survived the Aberfan disaster as a child. ‘The fallout from all the mine closures hit really hard where we lived on the Gurnos Estate because most families had someone working in the pit. They were rough times with many families suffering. But somehow, we got through it.’ Stuart B. lived in the mining community of Edlington, Yorkshire. The local pit that employed a big percentage of the community was called Yorkshire Main. ‘It was the deepest pit in Britain and very hard core when it came to the strike … Out of the whole work force only a small handful broke the strike and went into work.’
On the other side of the picket lines, miners who didn’t support the NUM saw the dispute differently. Soldier G. clearly recollects his family’s involvement.
Living in Nottinghamshire we were in the heart of the troubles during the miners’ strike. My father, grandfather and uncles had all stayed at work. The streets and gardens had tents on them with pickets from all over the country … My relatives used to wind the strikers up, taunting them by throwing their money around the pub and putting wage packets in the straps of their helmets as they walked home through the picket line.
Soldier B. came from a staunch mining family. After basic training, he remembers ‘going home at the height of the strike when lots of schoolmates were manning picket lines. They were all skint and on strike, and I was on leave with a wallet full of money.’ David K. grew up in a poor part of Wales where steel and not coal was the major industry. ‘Following many years of unemployment, my father landed a job as a driver with a haulage company and the money started to come in. During the miners’ strike the company my father worked for was sub-contracted to assist moving the coal. Having crossed the picket lines once too often he decided to leave and unemployment beckoned once more.’
The confrontational atmosphere soon turned into open violence that ultimately claimed three lives. Men were beaten in their houses, a taxi driver who was carrying strike breakers was killed when he was struck by a concrete block thrown from a bridge, and television footage of police officers beating strikers with their truncheons was broadcast all over the world.
Soldier G. had a paper round during the strike. One of his deliveries was to the NUM headquarters. ‘There was plenty of arguing and fighting. When Mr Scargill came to try and persuade the Notts lads to strike, they built a gallows and threatened to hang him if he stepped foot on to Notts NUM soil.’ At the height of the strike a soldier returning to his regiment after a weekend with his family in Nottingham boarded a train to London only to find he was sitting a few seats away from Arthur Scargill. Unable to control his anger, he threw a half-eaten pork pie at the NUM leader. ‘He was arrested by British Transport police, handed over to military police, and instantly obtained legend status back in the regiment.’
When the strike came to an end in March 1985, it was obvious who had lost. The country had shed billions in lost revenue with Gross Domestic Product reduced by as much 2.5 per cent,4 the trade union movement was split and fractured, with its power and influence in British politics greatly reduced. Bu...