Please stop reading now if you have a delicate disposition, or if you are a female. This is not complimentary to the fairer sex.
When I was 21, I had just finished my training in the army. I had the physical fitness of an athlete, the strength and stamina of a bull and the mental attitude of a savage.
My wife was about eight months pregnant and we moved into our new quarters near Bracknell, I started my trade training and everything was looking rosy.
Everyone in the army gets at least two trades, first and foremost , you are a soldier, then you get taught a second trade. An army has to be self sufficient so every trade is represented, cooks, vehicle mechanics, butchers, carpenters, blacksmiths, welders, teacher ,some trades are pure military, so you might have a soldier/sniper or a soldier/armourer. I was to be an Electronics engineer, a good trade for civvie life my dad said.
As the time for the birth grew closer, the wife decided to go back home to be close to her mum, because my hours were totally unpredictable, So I packed her off on the train, and settled back into the single life.
A couple of weeks later I got the call, she is in hospital, baby due tonight. I rushed to the camp, got permission to take compassionate leave, got on the road and hitch hiked back to Liverpool. I had the clothes I stood up in, which happened to be my combat gear, great for hitch hiking.
I hitch hiked a lot in those days, sometimes I would join a line of hikers, there was a strict etiquette, but a car would ignore the next guy in the queue and ask me to hop in, because I was in combats. The military was well respected and it was the height of the conflict in NI. There was only one time ever that I was pipped in the hitch hiking stakes and that was by a tall leggy blonde in a mini skirt, she popped her thumb out and screeeechhh, she had to beat them off with a shi tty spongia.
Anyways, got back to Liverpool at midnight to find the wife had been sent home from the hospital, so we waited. Two days later they took her back into maternity and induced her. I slept in the waiting room, still in my combats, I ponged a bit but thats not unusual for a soldier , plus, dont forget, I was still in 'savage' mode so I didnt care. A few hours later I was in the delivery room, applying the gas, it seemed to take forever. Then I realised there was a problem. One of the nurses picked up a pair of scissors and started cutting, to make the opening bigger for the babies head, its called an episiotomy, I think. It sounded horrible, like a tailor cutting thick cloth with a pair of shears. Blood squirted everywhere.
Then the little head came out and my daughter was born. They took the baby away and asked me to keep up with the gas because the wife was in total pain. All the assistants left and the doctor picked up a needle and thread. He started to stich up the cut that the nurse had made. He was painstaking and slow, very deliberate. As he got close to finishing he looked at me , I think he smiled, he said 'As good as new'
I replied 'You couldnt put a few more stitches in could you ?'
When I was 21, I had just finished my training in the army. I had the physical fitness of an athlete, the strength and stamina of a bull and the mental attitude of a savage.
My wife was about eight months pregnant and we moved into our new quarters near Bracknell, I started my trade training and everything was looking rosy.
Everyone in the army gets at least two trades, first and foremost , you are a soldier, then you get taught a second trade. An army has to be self sufficient so every trade is represented, cooks, vehicle mechanics, butchers, carpenters, blacksmiths, welders, teacher ,some trades are pure military, so you might have a soldier/sniper or a soldier/armourer. I was to be an Electronics engineer, a good trade for civvie life my dad said.
As the time for the birth grew closer, the wife decided to go back home to be close to her mum, because my hours were totally unpredictable, So I packed her off on the train, and settled back into the single life.
A couple of weeks later I got the call, she is in hospital, baby due tonight. I rushed to the camp, got permission to take compassionate leave, got on the road and hitch hiked back to Liverpool. I had the clothes I stood up in, which happened to be my combat gear, great for hitch hiking.
I hitch hiked a lot in those days, sometimes I would join a line of hikers, there was a strict etiquette, but a car would ignore the next guy in the queue and ask me to hop in, because I was in combats. The military was well respected and it was the height of the conflict in NI. There was only one time ever that I was pipped in the hitch hiking stakes and that was by a tall leggy blonde in a mini skirt, she popped her thumb out and screeeechhh, she had to beat them off with a shi tty spongia.
Anyways, got back to Liverpool at midnight to find the wife had been sent home from the hospital, so we waited. Two days later they took her back into maternity and induced her. I slept in the waiting room, still in my combats, I ponged a bit but thats not unusual for a soldier , plus, dont forget, I was still in 'savage' mode so I didnt care. A few hours later I was in the delivery room, applying the gas, it seemed to take forever. Then I realised there was a problem. One of the nurses picked up a pair of scissors and started cutting, to make the opening bigger for the babies head, its called an episiotomy, I think. It sounded horrible, like a tailor cutting thick cloth with a pair of shears. Blood squirted everywhere.
Then the little head came out and my daughter was born. They took the baby away and asked me to keep up with the gas because the wife was in total pain. All the assistants left and the doctor picked up a needle and thread. He started to stich up the cut that the nurse had made. He was painstaking and slow, very deliberate. As he got close to finishing he looked at me , I think he smiled, he said 'As good as new'
I replied 'You couldnt put a few more stitches in could you ?'
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