Your last day in the Regiment..A big let down?

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by LBdr_Pigshagger, Jan 6, 2005.

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  1. I have to admit, that I'm still gutted when I think of my last day in the Regiment.

    When I signed off in February 1997, I was still at LPH in Cyprus attached to another Battery, and on my return to Larkhill with seven or so months left, I had a decent TSM who offered me the role of JNCO's Mess Barman, so I could de-kit a lot earlier and generally mill around wearing civillian clothes, drive Sherpa's to MAKRO and toss it off in my single man room all day, watching video's and drinking endless brews.

    Any resettlement I was entitled to, I took as leave and went home on the piss, so all in all, my last year was (after four operational tours since 1993) a walk in the park.

    In the week running up to 'D-DAY' I'd handed back my single man room and moved into a four man pit in the transit block, had completely de-kitted and had every signature on my form apart from the MOD 90 one that RHQ would sign. Everything I owned personally, was already loaded into my car.

    This was a bit sad, as I had a shitty little Fiat Punto and after eight years in, all I had to show for myself was a portable TV, a VCR a car that was still financed and a few clothes.

    So, come the penultimate night, I head off over to the pub for a pleasant enough evening drinking with most of the troop, got presented with a statue thing (which was a choker) then ended up (For old times sake) down 'The Sticky Mat' in Amesbury until 2am.

    On the day I finally got out, I woke up feeling like five varities of dog sh*t at 10am, jumped out of bed for a sh*t and shower (I decided not to shave, as this was my first day as a civilian), stuffed last nights clothes into the bag and dressed in the only set I had left hanging in that big white locker.

    I walked down to RHQ where I was confronted with a clerk from the AGC that I'd never seen before in my life (It transpired it was his FIRST day at the Regiment) and handed in my ID card. The ROS walked in and stood behind me at this point and I remember he smiled telling me "You can go and say your goodbyes at the Battery Office, Bom, but once you walk out the gate, that's your lot, yeah? Don't hang around too long, lad..."

    And that's what I did. Walked up to the Battery Office only to find it locked, with nobody there apart from the BONCO. Even he was one of the blokes in the Battery I detested.

    So my last goodbye came from a bloke that I'd spent that last four or so years calling a c*nt at every opportunity I could. Perfect.

    And that was it. I walked out the gates and I was gone. I never expected fireworks or the RA Band, but I'm still disappointed when I think about it, to this day.

    Anyone else?
  2. rejoin and try again then
  3. You know what? I'll think I'll decline that kind offer.

    Thanks all the same... :D
  4. Your choice but you don’t know what you are missing its all change now the people are nice we don’t shout and you can wave red cards at angry sgts. No more long boring tours and women whip there knickers down as soon as they see a mod 90. Your better off in the army everybody knows that all civis are drug taking dole scum my retention officer said so and why would he lie.
  5. I spent mine in Oddstock Hospital in Salisbury after one of my mates in my final night out from Bulford ended up with a glass in his face. My unit didn't even bother with a presentation or leaving present as I'd been placed in limbo and no-one took on the responsability. And I went home on the following morning. Its true what you said, I'd imagined some kind of mental fanfare or stirring music as I went through the gates for the last time, but there was nothing. Just a sad empty feeling that you have to start all over again.
    It's also truley sad when you look at the amount of possesions and the articals which make up your life after many years service and realise you have virtually nothing to show for your life.
  6. Like I say. Eight years, four operational tours, three medals and EVERYTHING I owned fitted into my car.

    Glad to hear it wasn't just me...
  7. It is a shock that no-one can prepare you for. It is a realiseation that either
    a. You have led a noble but nomadic existance for many years and it is the sacrifice you have chosen to make.


    b. You've pissed up every penny and have nothing to show for it and by the way you still owe for the VHS.

    I'm actually glad you mentioned it as it really is the strangest feeling that you get when leaving the gates for the last time, no-one ever mentions it during re-settlement briefs (of which I had non as I did 2 tours in my last year) or other talks you have recieved about leaving.

  8. I would say I leaned heavily towards the 'b' option, there. And you're right. I tossed off my resettlement too. Went for one briefing down at Dhekalia Garrison with some senile doddering old colonel and thought "F*ck this, I'm going down Ayia Napa the next time they send me down here"

    I still think that, even if I had bothered with resettlement, nothing would have prepared me for my first two years back on Civvy Street.

    When you join at eighteen and leave at twenty-six as a singlie, you've been looked after your whole adult life and don't realise it.

    In what other job, can you piss up your entire months wages in one day, yet be fed, clothed and housed for the remainder of the month?

    That came as a big shock, I can tell you....
  9. Our regt. had a 5 a side footie competition on my last day. Wolters Pilsner had stands everywhere and (after a hideous week spent marching around the garrison signing off my chits) me and the lads got absolutely smashed. Even the Colonel came along and said goodbye informally.
    As we were going to the Pig's Bar we had a bomb scare - a briefcase by the POL point looking very much like a bomb. This was in 1990 and there were still PIRA loose in FRG. Dogs and wheelbarrows checked it all out and the case was declared to be that of an office rupert who'd watched a football game and left his papers behind!
    More beer was had, a presentation from the troop and then the next morning, the boys took me to Hannover for my BA flight back to UK. Strangely enough, that morning the papers were full of "Saddam Invades Kuwait".
    After de-kitting at Catterick I went on leave to the Middle East, spent Xmas there and bumped into half the troop in the expat beer, complete with their respirators! When I got home to UK I found a nice brown envelope on the doormat saying get yer arrse back to the regt. Nice!
  10. Tell you what, in all honesty, if I'd got that HMSO Envelope within two years of leaving, I'd have bitten their hands off and paid my own warrant back to Larkhill.

    Now though? They can shove it up their Arse.... :D
  11. I spent my last day on guard commander, no seriously, this was AFTER I dekitted

    Regt was in Kosovo, I was on rear party and they needed a Guard Commander, the QM's had dekitted me early but the rear party razzer was having none of it, so I borrowed a bit of kit, had some buckshees and strolled on guard. The funnest bit was the inspection, the ROS took one look at my magnum boots, trops and smock and asked me what I was on, told him the story and how I was pissing off in the morning (didn't even have a bunk) he smiled and said fair enough and didn't bother me all night, which was nice.

    Thing that got my goat was my leaving pressie, every member who left got a 5 quid copy of the unit painting, usually in front of the troop with a bit of speil about how good you were etc. But no, nothing, I had to remind the BK, who was new and hadn't met many people yet, to get me one before I parted. Oh well end of an era I s'pose :roll:
  12. I remember one sprog at 30 sigs. He was a right bitter little c-unt, liked by nobody. He did three years and then wanted off.

    Remember him the week before in the NAAFI bar, going on about what he was going to do on his last day.

    "Yeah, right, i'm going to get a fcuking limmo to pick me up from outside the gate. Then i'm going to do a big fcuking moony at the gate and the fcuking army can kiss my fcuking arrse" etc etc etc.

    Come the big day, we were all picking up weapons for a range day, whilst he was waiting outside the gate for his "limmo." Ozcabs of Nuneaton duly pulled up in a 'C' reg Nissan Sunny. Whilst he was cramming all of his clobber in to the boot, the first 4 tonner was leaving. As it turned out of camp, they zapped the little fcuker with a deathpack avalanche amid shouts of "Fcuk off, you fcuking leg-iron," and "Get to fcuk before we shoot you."

    Harsh but fair.

    He never bothered with the moony, but I like to think that he has positive memories of those moments.
  13. I was in Sennelager at 7 Tank Transporter Regt RCT in 92 when one muppet who had decided he only wanted to do 3 years duly appeared at the UAO to hand in his ID card. The conversation went something like this.

    Idiot: 'I'm here to hand in my ID card and get your signiture to clear'
    UAO wallah: 'When did you sign off?'
    Idiot: 'Sign off?'

    He honestly did not know you had to give a years notice (yes, he was that big a muppet) before leaving.
  14. Brilliant!

    At least he got a send-off! :lol:

    In all honesty, had I just done the three, I barely would have given a toss. Just goes to show though, that no matter how much of a 'character' you think you are within your unit, the minute you go, you're gone and life goes on for the rest of them.

    The c*nts... :wink:
  15. my last night was spent on duty and my ssgt gave me a driving detail at 0400 to collect a rupert from Dusseldorf airport, i was "invited" to my own leaving do and was allowed to stay for a coke or other soft drink then i had best get back to my station, was wearing aquired lightweights and sqn teeshirt and my own SAS Smock and a borrowed beret having cleard the week previous. got to say a few words but was too choked up to say anything, the usual "we will keep in touch crap was issued" but i notice no one ever does. so got my statue and come 0400 left the camp to drive to dusseldorf straight through the speed camera at 70kmph flash!!!!

    got a call at home to ask if i knew anything about a speeding fine - i smiled.

    my last day in the army was actually some 4 months after leaving germany which was odd in itself, but i had to drive all the way to blandford to hand in my MOD90 some civ clerk behind a desk, gave me a slip of paper, said "read this" it listed the countries i cant go to for a while, said "sign here" so i signed and my MOD90 went into a envelope, he said "you can go now" and that was it. felt like a massive anti climax and was all i had to show for a 12 hour round trip.