In
1991 I was a member of a 7 weeks expedition to South Georgia. Now is not the time to retell the story but
if I had been possessed of foresight, then I doubt that I would have believed
myself capable of what I did on that expedition. It drew on my physical, mental and emotional reserves
in a way that nothing before or since has. By way of illustration, let me take just one
aspect; the physical. I ran my first
marathon at 14. At 17 I sculled the 31
mile Lincoln to Boston rowing marathon. In other words I was accustomed to physical
endurance challenges. The Army had also
pushed me in much the same way. South
Georgia added a new and significant aspect; there was no certainty of when or
how the course would end and no alternative to completion. Physically it was far harder than the
marathons but it also required something else. The expedition and the group
that I spent most time in were utterly alone.
No safety vehicle, no outside help short of a major rescue mounted from
the Falklands Islands, and even then probably no outside intervention for at
least 5 days. We stood alone utterly
reliant on each other. I’d recognised
the role of mental resilience in physical challenges but this was more than
just bloody minded will power, this was accepting total responsibility for
every aspect of the expedition. I have
faced greater single challenges but by a margin the combination of physical,
mental and emotional stamina required by that expedition was quite simply the
hardest thing of my life. It was a pivotal
experience which continues to have a profound influence on me and I continue to
reflect on the experience. On return I
became a “South Georgia bore”; within 5 minutes of any conversation I had engineered
an “I like me” account of my exploits.
Rather less embarrassingly I also started to analyse the experience and
its impact on me. I recognised that I
had grown in stature and that it had profoundly changed and shaped my attitude
and confidence to my own capability. I
even went as far as articulating some of them in strap line maxims. “little steps make big steps” was one. On a lecture tour of schools I suggested that
this applied as much to learning French vocab as hauling a pulk. Today I still reference that experience on
South Georgia.
At
about the same time I became aware of the philosophies of Kurt Hahn. By complete chance I was introduced to Ali
Hahn and I also listened to the experiences of Richard Clements who had been at
Gordonstoun, the school founded by Hahn after his escape from Germany. This brief dalliance got subsumed in the pace
of life but never totally left me. My
next foray in this area was not for several years when I came across part of
Steven Covey’s book “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”. A part had been placed on the intranet at MOD
Abbey Wood were I was working (I use the word loosely) on the Bowman radio
programme. “The habits” made sense and I
couldn’t help but observe how at odds they were with what I observed going on
around me. I bought the book and read it
avidly. As well as interesting me, it
seemed more profitable than the nugatory work that was expected of me and I
could make a slight case that it was in fact work related. In fact I stayed at Abbey Wood for 3 years
and the work remained nugatory, so I threw myself wholeheartedly into
organising an Antarctic Expedition. At
least it seemed like a project in which I could make a difference. That expedition did come fruition and much to
my surprised spurned a further two.
Each
of these Antarctic expeditions had its own ambiance, significance and
outcomes. During the first I forged a
strong friendship with the yacht skipper, Andy Bristow. I helped sail the yacht back from the
Falkland Islands with Andy and that 3 months was another pivotal
experience. Not only did my seamanship
improve dramatically under his tutorage but his methodology and approach made
an impact that extended way beyond sailing. Andy sailed through Lerwick last week on his
way north to Svalbard.
The
third of the Antarctic expeditions incorporated another symbiotic expedition
called “Leadership Through The Atlantic” (LTTA). The concept was to sail a
circuit of The Atlantic including both Antarctica and The Arctic with novice
crews. It gave young soldiers (most had
been in the Army for less than 6 month and were aged 18-20) an opportunity for
a highly beneficial experience at the start of their service. I never viewed it as a sail training
expedition but as a personal development exercise for life and of course
leadership. Hahn, I later discovered had
typically trod this path and put it very succinctly, noting the difference
between “training for the sea” and “training through the sea”. My ambition for the later put me on a
collision course with the Services sailing community. We rubbed along because we had to (which in
itself is not a bad lesson or akin to getting on with shipmates) but were probably
both relieved when the expedition finished.
I am pleased to say that today we enjoy a much more open and comfortable
relationship. (last week one of their yachts sailed into Lerwick.)
LTTA
was certainly not plain sailing. As well
as the professional challenge, I faced two concurrent personal challenges, two
people very close to me died that year within a few months of each other. Both had faced lingering deaths with great
courage and fortitude. Their individual journeys had been eased by the way
their own primary carers had responded with physical and emotional love and
support. Each had taken on more than
could ever be reasonably asked of them and they had done so at great personal
cost. Just like South Georgia, there was
no certainty of how the course would run or when it would end. I stood (and stand) in ore of how all four of
them faced that journey. I tried to
support all four but in truth probably failed to do so.
My
day to day boss was the chief of Staff of the Army’s recruiting and training
organisation. The post holder changed
during the expedition but both Philip Astell and Charlie Knags were equally
supportive and very tolerant of my sometimes unconventional approach and
manner. I know that I tried the patience
of both. My small expedition was a blip
on their radar; they were running what was at the time (and might still be) the
largest training organisation in Europe.
Amongst the big issues of the day was implementing the recommendations
and reaction to The Blake Report, the independent report into the deaths of
young soldiers at Blackdown camp. What
started off as identifying a need to better prepare instructors in the pastoral
and welfare support of young teenager trainee soldiers rapidly expanded to include
not only how best to communicate with them over welfare issues but also in
their approach to learning and developing.
Charlie Knags suggested that I might usefully attend, a new pilot course
designed to look at the role and benefits of transformational leadership as
opposed to the more traditional transactional approach. The course chimed with much of what I had
observed and reflected on during Leadership Through The Atlantic. I struck up an immediate rapport with the
instructor, Mark Woodhouse. Mark is also
a former soldier who now runs a niche personal development company called
Performance People. Since that initial
pilot course I have attend several others with him. They include coaching and mentoring as well
as a couple of NLP courses. All this
learning also rekindled my interest in Kurt Hahn and I started to read more about
his philosophies.
Another
of the big issues of the day was the Army’s response to the Iraqi prisoner
abuse episode. British Army Doctrine is
concerned with how the army delivers something called “fighting power” In
essence fighting power is the combination of three components; the physical
(what we fight with, tanks guns, men etc) the doctrinal (how they interact and
are employed) and finally the moral (why we fight and keep fighting. It emphasises the intangibles encompassed by
and dependant on moral courage). It was
this last one that appeared to have gone wrong and there was an immediate
effort to reinvigorate something that we had perhaps taken for granted. Our core values were restated and emphasised at
every level and opportunity. Values
based leadership chimed with the transformational Leadership model and the
pre-eminence of the moral component was unashamedly and unambiguously
trumpeted. Some years earlier my own
interest had been heightened by a dissertation I wrote for my Master’s degree
entitled “A changing Society, Military Ethos and the Moral Component”
Throughout
LTTA I had sought to build inclusive partnerships wherever possible. In the short term and for relatively little
effort and investment these had maximised and created opportunity for the
benefit of participants. One such
contact was with the British Schools Exploring Society and these bore longer
term benefit when it became a launch pad for a group of Army bursars (FE
collages students who had decided to join the Army and were being support by
the Army) and junior soldiers at the Army Apprentice College joined an
expedition to Greenland. I was lucky enough to join them as chief boatman. The expedition leader, Pete Allison, is at
the forefront of developing outdoor education philosophies and practices as
well as being one of the foremost authorities on Kurt Hahn. I learnt a huge amount during that expedition
and on return continued to develop my own ideas based on these influences.
One
final ingredient came from a very unexpected and unwelcome series of
events. In 2010 whilst serving in Iraq,
a number of allegations were levelled against me by the Brigadier I worked for. These were dismissed at a hearing in front of
a more senior general but the experience rocked me to the core but not as hard
as the Army’s lack of response to the dismissal of the allegations. My professional, domestic and personal world
collapsed. It’s a more complex story
than time allows but often it is when life is at its toughest that our
character is not only most tested but also that we learn most. I was diagnosed
with clinical depression and a number of people, whose debit I am in and who I
hold in the highest esteem, helped put me back together but it took 2 years and
was a painful and exhausting process. (This
experience was perhaps tougher than South Georgia but I exclude it because
mental illness attacks the very essence of who we are and when our brain and
rational no longer function in the way that defines us individually then we
cease to be the person we are.) I would not wish it on my worst enemy but in
the process of recovery forced me to take a long hard look at myself. I digress but want to make an aside. Mental health remains a taboo, perhaps not
unlike cancer 30 years ago. It’s spoken
about in hushed tones and there exists still a stigma that hinders diagnosis
and recovery. Mine was probably at the
lower end of the spectrum and still crippled me. One in four people will suffer during their life
time, its more common than breaking a leg and it destroys the very essence of
self. If you are lucky enough to be one
of the 3 in 4 please support the other and if you are one of the 1 in 4 then
please know you are not alone and do not suffer alone.
The
recovery process introduced me to CBT (Cognitive Behaviour Therapy) and as I
started to recover I started to draw strength and meaning from some of the
previous experiences and learnings I have referred to here. But above all I remain an unremarkable and very ordinary person who has had the good fortune to enjoy some extraordinary experiences.
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