NBC (GAS) Training

Military training involves many subjects. During Nuclear, Biological and Chemical training soldiers are trained to 'mask up in nine seconds'. The theory being that if it takes longer ... you die.

Nuclear, Biological and Chemical (NBC) warfare we were told was a subject worth taking seriously.  The theory lessons in the classroom were hard enough but the films we saw depicting the effects of the substances scared everybody.  We all paid attention.  Our first lesson with the respirator made us apprehensive about the next ones.  We were shown the correct way to put the thing on and how to change a canister.  As soon as we felt how uncomfortable it was, the instructor explained that if even a little loose, the respirator would let gas in.  I noticed I wasn’t the only one in the room trying to stop the blood flowing through my face.  I had the straps so tight it hurt my entire head.  The instructor then told us, ‘If the respirator is worn too tight it can let gas in…’ Jesus Christ !  How do you judge it?  There were times when I felt that I could no longer go on.  One of those times was whilst retching into my respirator during those first gas chamber lessons.  The instructors believed that every trainee should ‘experience’ the gas. 

We were in a secluded section of the camp.  Our instructor was dressed in his NBC suit and wearing his respirator when he entered the tiny brick building.  When he came out again he seemed to be okay.  He quickly closed the door behind him to lock in the grey mist that was trying to escape.  When he first went in, there was no grey mist.  Had he lit a small fire in there?  Even before we got our ‘masks’ on we got a whiff of the mist and it wasn’t any kind of smoke I had ever tasted.  My heart rate increased. 

Once fully equipped in our NBC suits and respirators we were all led into the small brick building.  Every one of us was crapping it.  Immediately the door was closed I felt sure I could feel a stinging in my eyes and my throat.  It had to be nerves.  I had to get a grip of myself.  Whilst I was convincing myself I couldn’t taste the grey stuff one of my chums raced for the door, only to be stopped by the instructor.  The muffled voice told the lad to calm down, then the door was open and the trainee dived out, coughing and spluttering.  He was trying desperately to rip the rubber mask off his sweating, stinging face.  As the instructor closed the door again it was attacked by another three trainees.  It looked like I wasn’t the only one not enjoying this subject.

My eyes were watering badly and my breathing wasn’t as it should be, but I was determined not to panic.  Standing in the gloom there was definitely a stinging, burning feeling in my eyes, nose and throat.  I heard a muffled voice explain that if anybody felt any sort of breathing discomfort they were to raise a hand to alert the instructor.  I did.  By now, I could barely make out the shape of the man, but I made my way forward.  I gave a wide berth to the smouldering CS gas pellets in the middle of the floor.  I was stopped by the instructor’s hand on my shoulder.  His muffled voice told me to take a breath, remove my respirator and call out my number, rank and name.  I would then be allowed out of the chamber.  My widening, water-filled eyes blinked and stared through the tear-stained lenses of my respirator at the sadistic b*****d.  I swore under my next painful breath that I would kill this man before the sun set.  Even as I pulled my hood back and tried to take a breath I knew this was going to go badly.  I took a fraction of a burning breath and tore the respirator from my stinging, itching face.  Could I remember my number?  Could I bollocks!  There was no way I could get my scrap of paper out of my pocket, and if I could, I wouldn’t have been able to read it.  Coughing and retching took hold of my body and I came out with a torrent of numbers which were meaningless.  This was interspersed with my rank and name.  God only knows what it sounded like.   

After what seemed like hours I found myself kneeling on the damp grass outside puking and coughing.  All around me were the previous escapees.  Every one of them had a red face with streaks down the cheeks.  They all stood silently with their respirators and gloves in their hands.  I peeled off the rubber outer gloves and the white cotton inner gloves.  My hands were saturated.  As I wiped my stinging eyes, nose and mouth with my damp sweating hands I heard from somewhere behind me. 

‘Whatever you do ... do not touch your face ...’ 

That was not what I needed to hear. As if the words had activated the tiny particles, my entire head felt as if it had been set on fire.  If these guys were trying to put us off the Army as a career they had another convert.  I did not need this.

Author's Note

This is one of three excerpts which appear on my personal blog which is found at:
http://tomfoollery.wordpress.com
If you enjoy reading this, please feel free to visit the blog where there are other excerpts and the whole of Chapter One of my novel.

Reviews

[anne p. murray- LadeeAn..]

I can't wait to read more. I think i did notive one tiny grammatical error. In the 2nd to the last paragraph, it says: "All around me where the previous escapees", should that be 'were the previous escapees?'