December 1973 I took the Queen’s shilling, got my Gideon Bible and marched off to Guildford WRAC Centre on 2 January 1974.
I was just seventeen.
Saying goodbye to my blood family I joined my adopted Army family.
The earliest relationship I had, if indeed it was that, was at Guildford, waiting for trade allocation. I’d been recruited as an analyst with Army Intelligence but couldn’t get my head around what that meant. I tried Military Police briefly but losing my Army ID in a gay club in London during training, strongly suggested being an MP was not for me. I reallocated (again) and was waiting for a driver training course when I met the first woman who educated me what being gay in the Army meant. I remember her very fondly but it didn’t last and we went our different ways.
After driver training there were no relationships other than platonic friendships.
One morning I was called to the admin office. Two NCO’s from the Special Investigation Branch (SIB) of the Military Police were waiting.
My name was on a list of (alleged) lesbians in my Unit. The list supposedly given by someone recently discharged for being gay.
The interrogation lasted almost the whole day, my room searched. Letters, cards, photographs, clothing, all my belongings scattered with no respect. I was still seventeen. I had no support or advice and spent the day being bullied, threatened and cajoled into admitting something I wasn’t even sure of myself.
They found nothing, except letters, cards, and photographs from friends. Those who signed off ‘with love’ or ‘miss you’ had their names added to their list.
I had two such visits from SIB at Wilton.
In 1976 I was posted to Rheindahlen in Germany and there I met ‘the one’. She was the first real love of my life and we were inseparable. I was nineteen and she slightly younger.
Relationships were open secrets amongst the ‘other ranks’. Everyone knew who was with whom.
The first sign of trouble was being found ‘in a compromising situation’ by the night orderly officer, watching TV, both sat on my bed, twice.
Sometime later, I’d been away on exercise for ten days and on my return, I was told to report to Guildford the following Monday morning for discharge. On 9 December 1977 I was discharged with no money, no home and few prospects. I was bereft.
I returned to Germany, got a job and a flat and our relationship flourished. When the Army learned that we were still seeing each other she was posted back to UK.
Our relationship lasted for a while but eventually we parted ways. I still think of her with great affection.
I have been happily married now for thirty-two years.
I went on to serve with distinction in the Police and the Prison Service in England and New Zealand before retiring as a Prison Inspector in 2018.
