Trev was truly a terrifying individual. It seemed that whatever I did annoyed him. Either my questions were stupid, my tone was inappropriate or I breathed too loud. Work soon became a succession of avoiding actions.
If work wasn't scary enough, exercises were torture. There was no way to avoid him as I was on the same wagon. Not only that, his methods of ensuring 'lessons were learned were positively sadistic. I learned that one of the junior mechanics at a previous unit had made the mistake of leaving his toolbox at their base location. They deployed to a location about 15 miles from base and started on a gearbox change on the tank they had been sent out to. At first Trev didn't realise that his crewman had forgot his toolbox as they were both working from his. When he did realise he decided that the best solution was for the lad to walk back to base and get the box and bring it back.....on foot, cross country. The unfortunate mechanic was making his way back to base when Jim Fuller, Trevs boss who was out in his land rover checking on his repair teams found him. Jim, being an inquisitive sort, stopped when he saw the miserable mechanic making his slow way back to base. He took him back in the 'rover and dropped him back with Trev. When he told Trev it was 'inappropriate' to send junior mechs on a 30 mile cross country scavenger hunt it would be fair to say the big man was mystified. It had seemed perfectly reasonable to him!
This was the man I was dealing with. Even barbecues at his house were scary. First you were 'invited' and then with a sense of dread you armed yourself a trusty crate of beer and consoled yourself that at least there would be women there and that being the case, he would have to be on best....or at least slightly less murderous behaviour. One occasion sticks in my memory for the simple reason that it involved Trev, barbecue lighter fluid, alcohol and hospital. I arrived at his house with Jill, my wife, and a crate of beer. We'd already decided it would be a flying 'show our faces and go' visit. Trev greeted us with his customary foghorn voice (imagine Brian Blessed at his boomiest best and multiply it by eleventy-twelve times) I was dispatched to the garden while Jill sat down with 'the wives'. The afternoon was beginning to settle down a bit when Trev decided things were getting too quiet. Most of the guests (males) were already wet as he'd come up with a game the rules of which I forget but the conclusion of which seemed to involve getting thrown into a paddling pool and sat on. I emerged from the pool just the right side of drowning. So, as I mentioned things were quiet "too quiet" as they say in the films. It was at this point that Trev recharged the barbecue with charcoal and then got annoyed that it wasn't ready to go immediately. He added some lighter fluid which helped, then for reasons best known to himself he decided that it would be far more effective if he filled his mouth with the lighter fluid and spat it out over the barbecue. It wasn't completely successful...or maybe it was if you were a poor, put upon Craftsman ;) The fluid ignited as it hit the 'cue and then we all watched in fascination as the flame front made its way back to Trev. After what seemed an age but was only a split second the flames hit his lips casing him to open them and spit out the last dregs of the fluid. In a second it was all over he'd lost his eyebrows, moustache, sideburns and the hair from the front of his head. All the craftsman were watching him, none of us able to utter a word. All terrified that we'd be the first to break the silence and pay for the misdemeanour, I don't know how long we were there looking at each other scared that we'd be the one to crack. It was his wife in the end who broke the silence "That was a fucking stupid thing to do wasn't it?" she said. Instantly the spell was broken and everyone could laugh. Trev was driven to the Medical Centre and returned looking like a mummy. It was truly a memorable afternoon :)
So how do you deal with a man who has lost a total of 7 tapes, LOVES to administer a good old fashioned hiding to you at the drop of a hat and, has the temper of a rabid rotweiller with its nuts caught in a mangle?. You're on exercise with him on his vehicle in Canada slap bang in the middle of 1000 square miles of sod all. Not only that, you're sure that at some time (soon) he may well inadvertently deliver a fatal beating to you.....well if you're a Craftsman like I was you decide the best thing to do is wait till Trev is dismounted and guiding you into a location in the middle of the night and then you run over him in your 434 Armoured Vehicle. Yes really. The other important thing is to make sure that you don't do what I did next.....tell someone I was going to do it (what a pillock!) The upshot was that some time later Trev caught me. Next thing I knew I was pined up against the side of a vehicle with my feet off the ground. "I hear you'd like to run over me with the 434" he said in a surprisingly quiet voice. At this point I figured what the hell I'd be dead in a few seconds anyway so I thought "Sod it!, I'll go out with a bang!". I looked him in the eye and said "Yep". At this point I was expecting the mother and father of all hidings but all Trev did was grin and say "Good lad!" then he let me down,
From that point on there was a change in Trev. He was still just as scary, he still had a hair trigger temper and was still likely to punch the person who brought him bad news......or a cold brew........or who smoked near him etc. No he wasn't worried about me, to be honest I don't think ANYONE would worry him. I think he just decided that under his tutelage I had 'progressed' now he could find another person to educate.
Its an overused phrase nowadays to say "They don't make them like that anymore" but in the case of Trev, they really don't!. In 22 years in the Army I never ever met anyone like him and I doubt I ever will. As an epilogue to this I met him at an Army/Navy rugby match and though the years may have mellowed him (a bit!) he was still in every sense the Wild Corporal from the Orkneys.
Next time
Rugby!
