Ant Middleton - First Man In

‘No! No! No!’ a policeman shouted. He bent down and manoeuvred me back down the corridor into the other bedroom, his bony fingertips pressing into my shoulders. My brothers were all in there, Peter, Michael and Daniel. Someone had taken the television up there from downstairs. They were all watching it. I sat down in the corner. I didn’t say a word.

My next memory is about four weeks later. I was being woken up again: ‘Anthony! Anthony! Come on, Anthony. Wake up.’ The main light was on. There were two people standing over me, my mum and this man I’d never seen before. He was enormously tall, with a big nose and long, dark hair that went down past his shoulders. I didn’t know how old he was, but I could see he was much younger than Mum.

‘Anthony,’ she said. ‘Meet your new dad.’

LESSON 1

It felt as if we’d been driving for days. I gazed out of the car window, watching motorways turn to A-roads turn to winding, hedge-crowded country lanes, with every mile we travelled bringing me closer and closer to the new life I’d chosen for myself and further away from the familiarity of the family home and everything I loved, hated and feared. The clouds hung above us like oily rags and the November wind battered on the roof of our Ford Sierra as it sputtered through the Surrey countryside. Neither me, my mum nor my stepfather spoke much. We let the English weather do the talking for us. As the wheels of the car pounded the tarmac, anxious thoughts span around my head. Had I made the right decision? Would I find myself and thrive in my new home? Or was I just swapping one unpredictable hellhole for another? Who was I going to be when this new journey ended? If I’d known the answer to that, I’d have opened the car door and jumped straight out.

The truth was, back in 1997 I didn’t have much of an idea who I was as a person. Who does when they’re seventeen? At that age we like to think we’re fully defined human beings, but the fact is we’re barely out of life’s starting blocks. We’ve spent our childhood being defined by teachers, parents, brothers, sisters, tinpot celebrities on the TV and, in the middle of all that, is a squishy lump of dough who’s constantly being shaped and reshaped. That’s why, especially when we’re young, it’s crucial that we’re surrounded by people whose influence is going to be positive and who are interested in building up our strengths, rather than drowning us in our weaknesses. I know that now. I wish I’d known it then.

Eventually, on the side of a narrow road, a red sign came into view. I couldn’t read what it said through the steam and raindrops on my window, so I rubbed the condensation away with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. MILITARY ROAD: ALL VEHICLES ARE LIABLE TO BE STOPPED. I sat up and took a deep breath. The car slowed down. There was another sign, a white notice that just said PIRBRIGHT CAMP. Beyond that was a guard room outside tall, black gates. And then, the sign I had been looking for: NEW RECRUITS REPORT HERE. ‘Here we go, Mum,’ I said, trying to disguise the nervousness in my voice. ‘This is it.’

She pulled up in a lay-by. I got out, lifted my heavy black bag from the boot and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. If she was sad to see me go, she did a good job of hiding it. My stepfather wound his window down, gave me the thumbs-up and said, ‘Good luck. See you later,’ then looked away. Before I had the chance to think, Mum was back in the car, closing her door and turning her key in the ignition. The engine fired up and I watched them vanish into the grey-green scenery. I took a moment to steady myself. This was it. From now on, everything was going to be different.

I took a deep breath, picked up my bag, slung it over my shoulder and turned towards the domineering complex of red-brick buildings. It looked like a prison or maybe a large hospital. There were rolls of barbed wire on the tops of the walls and security cameras on tall poles facing this way and that. I couldn’t see anyone else or hear any voices. I felt completely alone. It was almost creepy.

I approached the guard room nervously, almost expecting there to be nobody behind the glass window. When I was two steps away it was pulled open with a crack and a skinny guy in his mid-twenties, wearing military greens and those round John Lennon-style glasses, peered out. I flashed him my best friendly, charming and disarming smile. ‘I’m reporting for Basic Training, sir,’ I told him.

The soldier gave me a look like a bird had crapped on his spectacles.

‘Sir? Don’t call me Sir. I work for a living. It’s “Corporal” to you. Name?’

‘Middleton, Corporal,’ I said. ‘Royal Engineers.’

He picked up a clipboard that had been lying on his desk and scanned it lazily. ‘Middleton … Middleton … Middleton …’

I shifted my bag onto my other shoulder and tried to squeeze some blood back into my hand. He turned the sheet over and carried on running his fingertip down it. Then, very slowly, he reached over, picked up a second clipboard and began examining that one instead. The winter wind whipped around my neck. Finally, his finger stopped.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Anthony. Is that it? Anthony Middleton?’

‘Yes, Corporal.’

He smiled at me warmly. ‘Found you!’

I felt a huge rush of relief. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

‘You’re not due until next week,’ he said. And with that, his window slammed shut with another loud crack.

I was so stunned that all I could do was stand there, gazing at my reflection. Looking back at me in the glass I saw an immaculately presented, naive, skinny teenager with blue eyes and thick black eyebrows that met in the middle. A nice young lad with not a clue what to do. I walked back into the road with my head down but could only go so far before I had to put my bag down again.

What was I going to do? How the hell had I got the date wrong? I couldn’t believe it. My mum and stepdad would be a couple of miles away by now. I scanned the muddy landscape in the vague hope I might spot a telephone box so I could call someone. There were trees bare of leaves, some far-off horses in a field and a flock of anonymous birds careening in the distance. There was no telephone box. And who would I call anyway? Where could I sleep? I had no sleeping bag, nor enough money for a B&B. Maybe I could find a dry spot out of the way by the barracks wall. How was I going to last a week in the wet with no food? How could I begin my British Army basic training course starving, soaking and probably ill?

I had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to get as far away from the army buildings as quickly as possible. Instead, I put my head down, gritted my jaw and paced up the road, back towards those imposing black gates. I’d have to find somewhere to camp out in the dry and my best bet, I thought, was to use some of that man-made infrastructure. Once I was settled somewhere I’d come up with a plan. I tried to think positively. There must be a town not far away. I could find a call box there and get hold of Mum. I wasn’t sure whether she’d come and get me, to be honest, but towns mean homeless people, and homeless people have shelters and maybe I could …

‘Oi!’ came a shout. ‘Where you going, mate?’

I stopped and turned. On my way I’d passed a smaller brick guard hut. It hadn’t looked occupied but a man in army fatigues was now hanging out of the door, barking at me.

‘You can’t go up there, mate.’

I stopped and turned back.

‘This is a military area,’ he said. ‘What you doing here? Who are you?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got my dates wrong,’ I told him with an embarrassed shrug. ‘I have to come back next week, so …’ I smiled, as if the whole thing was no bother at all.