The Cross Country Test: How My Boss's Cunning Plan Spectacularly Backfired
As I mentioned in my introduction to 70 Army Youth Team in Cardiff, Lt. Antony Atkinson was decidedly unimpressed when he first met me. There I stood in full 1970s regalia, Oxford bags, patent leather shoes, massive collar, looking like I was auditioning for a gangster film rather than reporting for military duty.
But he had a cunning plan to get rid of me: a cross country course that would serve as what the army called a "sickener", something designed to break my spirit and make me request a transfer.
What he didn't know was that running wasn't going to be the problem he thought it would be.
A Lifetime of Walking and Running
By the time I arrived in Cardiff, I was quite fit. This wasn't by choice – it was just how life had shaped up.
As kids in Wern Fawr Road and Blaenymaes, we walked everywhere. During summer holidays between ages 5 and 8, we'd often walk the four miles from Wern Fawr Road to the beach area known as the Slip, a round trip of eight miles for a six-year-old. I once walked home barefoot after burying my shoes in the sand.
While living in Blaenymaes, I'd regularly walk the three miles to my Nan's house in Mayhill, safe in the knowledge she'd give me bus fare home.
At Harrogate Army Apprentices College, we never stopped doing PT. We ran cross country courses over the Crags regularly, plus I played squash and rugby.
In Germany with 1 Armoured Division, I accidentally got selected for the squadron cross country team when I ran the trial as fast as possible, thinking speed would end the ordeal rather than qualify me for the bloody team. I was so horrified at making it that I deliberately came last but three in my first race to get dropped.
When we weren't on exercise and the powers-that-be didn't know what to do with us, they'd send us off to practise our annual fitness test, a timed 10-mile march wearing full webbing and carrying our rifles. The point is, by Cardiff, running wasn't going to break me. I just found it bloody boring compared to rugby or squash.
The Test Begins
A few days after my arrival, we were tasked with setting up a cross country course for an Army Cadet Force event. We headed to a beach area near Cardiff to lay out what I think was a 4-mile course through sand dunes.
I walked with Sergeant Barry, setting up stakes and tape to mark the route. When we finished, Barry told me to run the course with him so we could estimate timing for the cadets. Off we went. Barry was fit, but I could easily keep up, which seemed to surprise him. I could probably have passed him if I'd wanted to, but didn't.
When we got back, Barry declared the course wasn't long enough. We extended it by a couple of hundred yards. "Run it again," he said. "On your own this time."
Off I went, with Barry appearing at various points around the course – obviously checking I wasn't taking shortcuts. When I returned, he announced the course still wasn't long enough. We extended it again. "Run it again."
By now I knew something was up. This felt like a test. I was getting tired and doubted I could manage another circuit, but luckily it was getting late and Barry declared himself satisfied.
The Morning After
The next morning, they had me run the course again to check the stakes and tape were still in place. Cardiff kids, like Swansea kids, would steal anything not nailed down.
When I returned, I saw the boss had arrived. He and Barry were having a quiet conversation, looking over at me periodically – making it obvious I was the subject of discussion.
Lt. Atkinson came over and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was fine and asked if he wanted me to run the course again. By now I was certain this was some kind of test.
Fortunately, he said no.
The Truth Revealed
Months later, over drinks, the boss revealed their cunning plan. He and Barry had designed the repeated cross country runs as a "sickener", something to put me off and make me request a transfer away from the unit.
What they hadn't counted on was that I was already well-versed in the army's "you might not like it but just get on with it" school of thought. It would have taken more than running around a course a few times to break someone who'd been accidentally surviving military fitness tests for years.
He admitted that first appearances had been deceptive and that I'd turned out to be an asset to the unit. He backed up his words by getting me promoted to Lance-Corporal and writing a glowing recommendation for my transfer to the Royal Military Police.
I met him again around 1981 in Germany when he was an Major in Krefeld. He was a good bloke and probably the best officer I served with during my army career.
Sometimes the best plans are the ones that fail completely.
Top Photo by Peter Robbins on Unsplash