Pringle trophy
hat-trick!
by Tom Sylvester W
aking on Friday was a nervewracking
experience in itself,
this was it: everything we had
been training for. Arriving at the
Commando Training Centre Royal Marines
Lympstone, we could feel the immensity
of the challenge ahead. The pressure
was on like never before. This is 5.30pm
on Friday. Two more solid days of work
lay ahead with little time for sleep.
After an unnerving supper, eyeing up the
opposition, we got straight to work.
Marching through the camp back to our
base of the Mountain Leader classroom,
we could sense the determination of the
other schools wanting to replace us as
national champions. Friday night was
spent talking through every stance and
answering any questions. Literally every
possibility was talked through and
hammered into everyone's minds - I felt
like I was being prepped for war.
After four hours of intense strategy
planning, we marched back to the
accommodation, the sports hall floor!
Most of us being new to Pringle, we didn't
know what to expect, but we were not let
down, all the other schools burst into
song and applause as we entered, at this
stage still reigning champions.
Saturday started with a 4.30am rise,
which allowed us to be the first to the
showers and the galley. After drawing
rifles we drove to Woodbury Common in
full kit including fighting order magazines
and camo kit. This is when the nerves
really kicked in, and we felt focused and
ready to destroy whatever came in the
way of us and our trophy.
The first stance was Section Attack. We
all knew what was involved. Standing
loading rounds into magazines, you could
see each and every person going through
everything in their minds. The stance
went as we wanted, everyone putting in
their full energy from the word go.
Between each stance we had a 30-minute
transition time, meaning we had to cover
about a kilometre every time. This was
yet again done at a run, carrying fighting
order and rifles - reaching each stance
early meant we got one last vital runthrough
before the real deal. After a day
of completing this routine nine times I
knew I was physically and mentally
fatigued. But we were only halfway
through.
As it was Drill in the morning, we had to
become pristinely clean that night,
removing all cam-cream, mud, sweat and
in most cases blood. After yet another
supper spent trying to psych out the
opposition, we were in for an evening of
drill and question testing. We all had to
learn 100 questions about the Marines'
history. Trying to fit this in around doing
fitness, eating, sleeping and school life
had proved tricky, but our Drill thankfully
held fast and this meant an earlier night of
12.45! This was of course after the
compulsory drill boot polishing.
From what I had heard from previous
years, the Saturday night was meant to be
tame, with all competitors asleep from
trying so hard during the day. This was
not the case. Tonight, for something
different, our Burgans, roll mats and
sleeping bags had been duck-taped
together and thrown into the middle of
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