I write this article humbly, in the hope that other people who stammer can see that you can achieve your goals, especially young people who are thinking of joining the military.
By Steve Brown

My first night in the army was a cold January night in 1991 at the Ulster Defence Regiment in Ballykinlar, Northern Ireland. I queued with my peers, waiting to get administered. I knew we had to address the recruiting staff by their rank. It was my turn. "Name", "Battalion" questioned the corporal. "YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS CORPORAL!!!!" screamed the instructor. I was trying - but nothing would come out. I was cornered; up until now I could choose when I spoke, what words I used. Now I was told what to say and when. The first room inspection came. We had been told: come to attention state your rank, name and battalion. I could feel my legs shake, with sweat breaking out all over body, and my jaw became almost paralysed when struggling to say this simple sentence. I must have taken a minute, before managing to get most of the words out. The silence was only broken by the laughter of the other recruits. The instructor stood directly in front of me only a foot or so from my erect body, his eyes locked on to mine throughout this hellish experience. He promptly turned to close the door, before raising his voice addressing the other recruits. "Gentlemen, how dare you laugh! Who do you think you are? This is a team effort, if any of you have a weakness it's up to the rest of the squad to assist - whatever the problem." I drew some comfort from this. After the corporal had completed the inspection, the other recruits apologised one by one.

During the 10 week course I gained confidence, I had my passing-out parade in April 1991 and was posted to the greater Belfast area. As a private soldier I had little problems with speaking. It was only when I stood in for absent team commanders that I faced new challenges. I was a keen soldier. Each patrol I would try to gain results - whether it was wining hearts and minds or actually gaining intelligence that would help the effort against terrorism, be it small. It was not long before my 'keenness' was noticed, for this I would often be detailed 'chatter up' - the soldier who spoke to the drivers passing through vehicle check points, and recorded details of various people including suspects. This was an art that I mastered, I knew what words to avoid and always appeared in complete control.

It was only after joining the army I learned that to gain promotion soldiers must complete command courses, which included 'method of instruction' - presentations! There was no way round it if I wanted a career with the army. I had to gain an instructor qualification. I was being nominated for promotion training and managed to avoid course after course. But I was seeing junior soldiers bypassing me and completing the course, followed by promotion. I knew it was make or break time. On the 11th of April 1996, I got married to Lorraine. The day went great and best of all I managed a short speech without stammering. This was an important event, and that would be decisive.

Promotion
In August 1997 I attended pre-course selection training for the NCO course at Ballymena - the first step to promotion. The pre-course covered many subjects, but the only one that I had serious concerns about was 'method of instruction'. The thought of giving a talk in front of the class had forced me to leave school 12 years earlier. The first five-minute presentation I gave went terrible; I could feel all those emotions that I remember feeling at primary school and later high school. I kept thinking about promotion, trying to draw some comfort and the view that 'it will all be worth it'.

I passed the pre-course and attended the six-week training at Depot Royal Irish Regiment. I was in peak physical condition. However, the presentations would give me concerns. It was the morning prior to giving my first formal presentation, when I was told that only one instructor was available for the whole 40 strong course. I had been expecting just our squad - eight guys. I was sure that the instructor was not aware I had a problem. I set out a plan. The afternoon came and I offered myself up first. "If you see my mouth open and hear no words, I haven't fallen asleep or I'm not on drugs," I announced to the packed lecture room, speaking slowly, clearly and loudly. To my relief the room erupted into laughter. It took the pressure off. I was happy just to get a tick in the box.

Finally it was test week, involving a pass or fail 96 hour exercise. I got just three hours sleep when travelling between two locations where the exercise was run. I found that normally my stammer got worst the more tired I was. Was this going to be the same during this exercise or would I rise to the challenge and obtain all the required training objectives? The exercise progressed. Responding to the simulated terrorist attacks brought a prolonged use of the radio combined with a very robust, physical reaction. My stammer took a back seat during the excessive pressure of my incidents. Again I achieved a tick in the right box. The last day of the course was the student,s passing-out parade and we were informed who had passed.

Prior to marching on to the parade square, we were informed who passed and who failed. Sadly, five students failed, and the fact many of those hardened men were reduced to tears is an indication how demanding the course was, both physically and mentally. Thankfully I passed. I later learned that some other soldiers (who did not know me) predicted I would not pass the course due to my stammer.

Frontline
Within four weeks of returning to my Battalion I was promoted to lance corporal. It wasn't long before the Ulster marching season had arrived. As a recently promoted lance corporal I was surprised to be given the job of liaison officer with police and troop reinforcements. While on our way to a large North Belfast estate one evening, we homed into the dreaded words soldiers and police officers never want to hear "CONTACT, CONTACT SHOOTING, WAIT OUT!" We stopped short just outside the estate. I, the platoon commander and sergeant, had to leave the safety of the armoured vehicles to gain contact with the operations room due to bad radio reception. Missiles rained down from all directions. The two unfamiliar Welsh commanders fixed their eyes firmly on me. I was the sole contact point, and source of advice. I didn't have time to think about my speech that night; the adrenalin pumped, and I did the job I had been trained to do. On returning to the room in the small hours, I learned a discussion had brewed if it was I speaking over the radio. For the first time in my life I felt good about my speaking performance, the feeling was worth more than £10,000.

No place to hide
In 1999 I was promoted to corporal and was posted to the operations room where I would answer the phone lines and the army and police radio networks. I could manage the radio with little difficulty, as most of the communications were standard radio procedure. As part of the training to use military radios, students are taught to adjust their tone and rhythm. I found this helped my speech greatly.

At this time I attended a fluency course in Scotland. As a result I was nominated as an instructor for a training weekend. The subject knowledge was the least of my concerns. But I would be performing in front of my close friends and colleagues - it was daunting. I felt ill but remained cool, calm and relaxed. During the presentation I used the theory I had learned on the fluency course and humour to lighten up the overall instruction period. I did stammer, I did block, but I instructed with confidence and I achieved the training objective. I slept very well that night.

Death by presentations
It wasn't until 2003 that I had to address my next hurdle to be promoted to sergeant. I knew it was 'death by presentations'. I had gained an insight from past students. On this course I would be expected to have a certain level of instructional capability. The fact I knew I would be performing against some the army's best corporals - 'flyers' - made this course a high mountain to climb. I arrived early at the education centre. That afternoon we were interviewed informally. I took this opportunity to flag up my stammer. The young female captain replied, "We are more interested how you think than how you speak". It wasn't until the final course debrief she admitted that she was horrified when I told her and really didn't know how they would deal with this problem! The three-week course went quickly, and it was intense. Within the first day we had been given our first subject to research and present the next day. I completed all the required training objectives, including oral presentations and discussions. I finished within the top third of the course. I was now qualified for promotion to Sergeant.

My future
After serving over 13 years within the service, I thought long and hard about the future. In the summer of 2003 I saw an opportunity to fulfil a long-time dream; I successfully completed the Metropolitan Police Service recruitment selection. I then submitted my resignation with mixed emotions and I was discharged from Her Majesty's Forces in April.

I write this article humbly, in the hope that other stammerers can see that you can achieve your goals, especially young people who are thinking of joining the military. Many hold the view that the military should not discriminate against people who stammer! They don't. As a stammerer they will support you and actively promote on merit alone. If we are to continue to enjoy the benefits of freedom and democracy, the British Army's combat effectiveness will not be compromised - at any price.

From the Spring and Summer 2004 editions of Speaking Out

See also
Not limited in the army - short comment from a soldier who has found the army supportive.
Stuttering blocks British army career - Lee Heard says his experiences have left him stronger and more motivated.