Hikers Wool Blog

As an 18 year old I was drafted into the NZ terrorial army to complete my military training service which was, at the time, compulsory for all upon reaching their 18th birthday.

I knew a little bit about what to expect from my older brother who had been drafted 2 years before, and so I took advantage of our family’s little ‘secret?’ and packed some our HikersWool in my luggage.

In camp we lost our civilian identities within the 1st hour under the barked orders and icy demeanor from a lance corporal and we were under no illusions that this was going to be a ‘holiday camp’ as he put it. His job, was to ‘turn us into soldiers’ he said sarcastically, inferring that that would be an impossible task but that he, and we, were going to try and we were to “put up, shut up, do exactly as ordered”. There was no way out for the next 3 months of basic training and then subsequently over the next 3 years.

 We were not in the Regular Army as our Officers and NCOs were. They were super fit, controlled, organized, disciplined soldiers and we weren’t.

Recruits came from all walks of life around the country and the discipline started immediately upon receiving our uniforms and boots etc. 

On the second day our training started in earnest by marching up and down for 2 hours in the heat on the summer parade-ground in our newly issued army boots.

I would have categorized us very roughly into two types. ‘City- boys’ and ‘country- boys’; those used to wearing street shoes and those used to wearing boots.

By lunch-time most ‘city-boys’ returned to their huts suffering from fearful blisters on their heels and toes which they attempted to deal-to as best they could with sticking plasters and tapes. Most skipped lunch on that first day to rest up on their cots. 

The ‘country-boys’ fared much better. They mostly went to the cook-house for lunch. They had sore feet but being used to wearing boots they had tougher feet and fewer blisters.  

I was a ‘city-boy’ but I also went to lunch as I had no blisters. I can’t say that I tripped around like a ‘twinkle-toes Peter-Pan’ in those new boots, but I had avoided blisters by generously using my family’s Hikerswool around my feet. I shot the watching corporal a furtive smile.  

After about a week on the parade-ground most city-boys feet toughened up a little. But then the corporal smilingly took us out on 5k plus ‘forced-marches’ and new blisters started under the balls of feet. Much harder to deal with but with my wool I survived very well. 

I didn’t tell my Army hut-mates about the Hikerswool I had.

I didn’t want to be mugged for it.