The Banker (Part 8) – Training

Training for active service at the front soon began in earnest.

The instructors at the Ladysmith Base were keenly focused on preparing Findlay and his fellow recruits for war. Every drill had one overriding purpose: to reduce casualties at the front. The instructors drove the men to the brink. Discipline was non-negotiable. Each fellow would be in better physical shape by the time they boarded the troop vessels. They would also master the weapons of war. Every drop of sweat in training would bring as many men home alive as possible.

Each day began before the crack of dawn.

Ablutions. Seemingly pointless precise making of beds – ironing blankets and sheets to achieve a “boxed” appearance. Spit and polish. Indulging the army’s obsession with all things “square”. Running two-by-fours through rifle barrels to clean them. Standing to attention for inspections that revealed imperfections regardless of attention to detail. Followed by squad formation and punishment drills or PT inflicted on the many for individual delinquency.

Breakfast. Chased down hungry gullets with scant concern for weevils in the cereal. Eggs that resembled the Union flag – orange, white and blue. Dixies washed in dishwater with the scum of a few hundred other dixies.

Parade ground. The high-pitched orders of Sergeant Major Anderson striking fear into officers and men alike. He owned the parade ground: “By the mark of the kettledrums – kweeeeek much!”

More PT. Field work. Lectures.

Lunch.

Running. More running. Running to fetch a leaf on some obscure distant branch. Bringing back the wrong leaf. More running – with boots. With webbing. Steel helmet. Rifle. Leopard crawling.

PT.

Supper.

Night manoeuvres. Getting lost in the veld. Navigating with compass and a keen awareness of the terrain was drilled into the fellows. Coping with unfamiliar surroundings, different vegetation and geological features – all of these made good soldiers out of civilians from diverse backgrounds.

Back to the bungalow. Washing. Ironing. Whitewashing putties. Shining boots. Sleep. Guard duty. Slumber. Roused. Inspection. More drills...

Findlay became a master of concealment. Always a keen observer, he honed this talent to identify enemy positions. Stealthy movement through enemy terrain and the use of available natural cover became second nature to him. He thoroughly enjoyed these exercises, and his natural aptitude for fieldcraft was quickly recognised. His sharpness did not go unnoticed. Nor did his ability to encourage those who struggled to translate field theory into practice. His instructors began to see the makings of a potential leader.

Then further weapon training. Dismantling and reassembling weapons until they could do so blindfolded. Accuracy on the shooting range was also his forte. His calm demeanour served him well on the shooting range, where he consistently proved a fine marksman.

The men were trucked to an additional training environment at Premier Mine near Cullinan. They faced an unfamiliar climate and inhospitable terrain. The massive industrial complex provided a chance for trainees to familiarise themselves with an industrial environment. They learned to operate in unfamiliar surroundings where industrial structures and terrain offered numerous opportunities for ambush.

Back to Ladysmith.

At the end of it all, a sigh of relief. A weekend pass offered a brief respite and an opportunity to spend precious time with family. Findlay and his new mates would yet sail rough seas that brought ever closer the exacting rigours of conflict.

 ©Paul M Haupt

 

The Banker — (Part 8) Training. A visual interpretation of Findlay Nicholson's further transition from bank clerk to soldier. Image generated with AI for this story.