Do kids still go to Cadets?

It’s a question I’ve genuinely found myself asking recently.

Because when I think back to being a kid, being a Sea Cadet was a pretty big part of my life. Looking back now, I realise they gave me far more than I understood at the time.

They gave me discipline, new skills, independence, confidence and friendships. They also gave me the opportunity to go away without Ma, which at the time felt like the greatest adventure imaginable.

And they also gave me one of the most important moments a spotty 13 year old boy can have, they gave me my first kiss.

I’ll come back to that.

But first, I wanted to know whether Cadets were still a thing because, like a lot of things from my childhood, I’d assumed they’d probably disappeared somewhere between the invention of the mobile phone and the arrival of viral TikTok dances, I think their dances but they do sometimes look like their having a seizure of some form.

Turns out, they haven’t.

Not even close.

To my surprise, there’s still tens of thousands of young people involved with Sea, Army and Air Cadets across the UK. There’s still camps, activities, training, qualifications, friendships and plenty of opportunities for kids to learn things that don’t involve staring at a screen.

And I love that.

Because when I think about what Cadets gave me, I realise now that some of the things I learned there have stayed with me for decades. At the time, of course, I didn’t have the slightest idea that any of it would matter.

I was a kid.

I wasn’t sitting there thinking, “This experience will provide me with transferable life skills that I’ll be able to utilise throughout my adult life.” No, I was probably thinking about when we were going to eat. Or whether I’d get shouted at for doing something stupid.

Probably both.

I joined the Sea Cadets when I was 11 and went right up to being a leader at 15 and do you know what, I bloody loved it!

There was something about putting on the uniform and suddenly being part of something. You met other kids, learned new skills and were expected to actually do things for yourself. That might sound perfectly normal to us now, but when you’re a kid, being given responsibility is a pretty big deal.

And then came that first Camp trip to Windermere.

For a naive kid from Pompy, travelling all the way up to the Lake District felt like we’d been sent to the other side of the planet, maybe even a different one but let me assure you, we didn’t exactly travel in luxury.

We had the bone shaker.

That Navy bus that looked like it hadn’t seen a service since it was built in the early 60’s.

Nine hours.

From Portsmouth to Windermere.

Nine.

Bloody.

Hours.

Thinking about it, I’m not entirely sure whether it was actually a bus because it felt like an old agricultural vehicle, with the words “Royal Navy” poorly painted on the side of it but we didn’t care. We were going away. We were kids, we were excited and we were going on an adventure.

And when we finally arrived, my arse had completely left the chat but it was worth it.

We stayed in tents on a beautiful site right next to Lake Windermere. I can still remember the feeling of being there. We’d gone from our normal lives at home to suddenly being surrounded by kids that spoke funny and were from completely different parts of the country. People we’d never met before. And within a very short period of time, they weren’t strangers anymore.

They were mates.

That’s one of the things I think we sometimes forget about being young, you could meet someone for the first time on a Monday and by Tuesday afternoon you’d behave as though you were besties and you’d known each other for years.

There were no social media profiles to check, no Instagram pictures. No Ticky Tokky . You simply met somebody new. You spoke to them; you did stuff together and that was it.

Friendship achieved.

We spent our days doing things I’d never experienced before. I learnt to rock climb, something that would actually stay with me because I carried that love of climbing into the Army years later. I learnt basic canoeing. I started my RYA qualification in sailing, something else that stayed with me into my younger adult years. I learnt how to tie knots. Now, at the time, I’m pretty sure I wondered what was the bloody point of learning a dozen different knots. Why would I ever need to know how to tie a knot properly?

Turns out, it was actually really useful, who’d of thought.

Over the years, I’ve used those skills more times than I can remember. And that’s the thing about learning practical skills when you’re young. You don’t necessarily understand their value. You just learn them, you practise them and if your me, you make mistakes, but you do get better and eventually, they become part of you.

The same goes for discipline. Oh, I bloody hated discipline; to be fair, it’s something I’ve struggled with on and off through my life but, I imagine I would be off the chart uncontrollable if it wasn’t for those early lessons.

At the time, I couldn’t understand why somebody thought it was necessary to tell me what to do, when to do it and occasionally, I suspect, how not to do it.

Looking back now? I appreciate it, I genuinely really do.

It was probably my first proper introduction to the idea that sometimes you have to do something because it needs doing, rather than because you particularly fancy doing it.

That’s an important lesson.

One I probably needed. Although I’m sure if Ma was still with us, she’d tell you I still need it occasionally. There was also something else I got from Cadets that I didn’t appreciate until much later.

Independence.

The camp trip to Windermere was my first real experience of being away from Ma. I know that sounds like nothing now, but when you’re a kid, it feels enormous. Suddenly you’re responsible for yourself, you’re sleeping in a tent, you’re getting yourself ready and you’re getting to grips with basic things like looking after your own stuff.

You’re surrounded by people you didn’t know a few days earlier and Ma isn’t there. Nobody’s coming to rescue you because you’ve forgotten something. Nobody is making your bed, and nobody is reminding you that you’ve left your bloody towel at the shower block that was obviously on the other side of the camp.

You just have to figure it out and I think I grew more during that summer holiday than some of my mate who weren’t involved in Cadets.

Not because I was somehow more mature than them because I definitely wasn’t. But because I was being given opportunities to do things for myself. I was being pushed slightly outside my comfort zone. And that’s where independence comes from. You don’t suddenly wake up one morning at eighteen and become independent.

You get there gradually.

You learn to do something yourself. Then something else, then another thing. And before you know it, you’re standing there wondering how the hell you ended up being responsible for your own life. Responsible I hear you say? I know, being responsible isn’t something that people associate with me, but you see what I’m getting at.

There was, of course, another extremely important development during that summer.

Dione.

God, I thought she was beautiful. I was 13 and she was 15, You could imply I wasn’t the most experienced kid when it came to girls but I’d been in love with Dione for about 3 months before the trip and I did what any fumbling 13 year old kid would do, I just stared at her from across the room hoping to god she didn’t notice because I had no idea how to approach her, I saw her as being so much older than me, she oozed confidence and as far I was concerned, she was as real as a woman could be.

But then something amazing happened, we ended up holding hands in the dinner tent after one of my mates had passed her a note that morning outing me. That night, I managed to get my first kiss. I Say kiss but it was more of a momentary coming together of lips, lasted about a second but I didn’t care, I was on top of the world and felt like a man for the first time. She smiled at me and then?  that was that, never happened again.

And yes, I remember it.

I’m 49 years old and I can still remember it.

Funny how the brain works.

I can’t remember what I had for dinner three days ago, but apparently my first kiss has been permanently backed up somewhere in the internal hard drive.

And then, after this incredible summer of adventure, new friends, climbing, canoeing, sailing, discipline, independence and an apparent romance, I came home.

And literally slept for 24 hours.

I got home and Ma did my washing. Which, when I think about it, probably sums up childhood rather nicely. I’d just spent weeks learning independence, climbing mountains, sleeping in tents, learning knots and sailing on one of England’s most beautiful lakes. All for then to come home and for Ma to do my laundry.

Looking back now, I think Cadets gave me a head start in life. Not a massive one, not some magical transformation into a perfectly disciplined, highly organised human being, let’s not get carried away.

But it gave me something that Youth Club or just hanging out with my mate didn’t, It gave me experiences and experiences at a young age are incredibly valuable. You learn that you can go somewhere you’ve never been. You can meet people you’ve never met; you can be uncomfortable only to discover that you’re actually okay. You can spend time away from home and realise that you’re capable of so much more than you thought.

And perhaps most importantly, you learn that the world is much bigger than the little bit of it you’ve grown up in. That’s why I think Cadets still matter. Not because young people need to be shouted at or marched around endlessly, and not because we need to turn every child into some sort of miniature soldier.

But because kids need opportunities to get out there and just do things, Real things. Things where you have to use your hands, where you have to work with other people. Things where you might get wet, cold, tired, dirty or at times, completely terrified. And that’s becoming increasingly important in this here digital world.

Because today’s kids have access to things I couldn’t have imagined when I was young. They can communicate with somebody on the other side of the world instantly.  They can find the answer to almost any question within seconds.

Technology has given them an incredible amount.

But there’s a difference between knowing something and experiencing something. You can watch a video about rock climbing but It’s not the same as standing at the bottom of a cliff with your harness on desperately trying to look as if you have it all under control but inside, you’re papping your pants.

You can watch somebody canoeing on YouTube but It’s not the same as falling into freezing water because you’ve cocked up your paddling technique. You can watch a sailing video but again, it’s not the same as actually learning how to handle a boat. Maybe that’s why I have such fond memories of Cadets.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t supposed to be. There were probably things I hated at the time. There was the discipline that I’ve already said I didn’t much appreciate and food that probably wouldn’t have survived a modern health and safety inspection. that nine-hour bus journey from Portsmouth that now probably qualifies as a minor form of physical abuse.

But I wouldn’t change any of it.

Because when I look back, I don’t remember the difficult bits. I remember Windermere, I remember the tents. meeting kids from all over the country, I remember that mug of hot chocolate before bed after we’d spent the entire day being awesome. That hot chocolate tasted bloody fantastic by the way. but most of all? the adventures of the whole thing.

Oh, and I remember Dione.

Don’t forget about Dione.

But most importantly, I remember feeling like I’d done something. I’d gone somewhere hours from home, I’d learned things. I’d made friends. I’d taken those first tiny steps towards becoming independent.

And I think that’s what young people need.

Not less technology necessarily. Not lectures about how “when I was your age, we didn’t have mobile phones.”

Although I reserve the right to say that occasionally because I’m nearly fifty and I’ve earned it.

What they need is balance. They need the chance to put the phone down and experience a little of the world.

They need somewhere to go.

People to meet.

Skills to learn.

Challenges to overcome.

And perhaps even somebody to tell them that they’re doing something wrong. Because sometimes, as much as we hate hearing it when we’re young, hell, I still hate hearing it now. somebody telling you that you’ve cocked it up is actually quite useful.

The good news is that Cadets haven’t disappeared.

They’re still there.

Thousands of young people are still putting on those uniforms, going away on camps, learning skills and taking those first steps towards independence. And I genuinely hope they continue to do so. Because maybe we don’t need to ask:

“What’s wrong with kids today?” Maybe we should be asking: “What opportunities are we giving them?” I’ve said many times before that I think this generation gets a bit of a rough ride from us but maybe the fault isn’t found with the kids, maybe we aren’t pushing them enough these days.

I was lucky.

I had the Sea Cadets.

They gave me experiences that stayed with me for decades, skills that I’ve used throughout my life and memories that I can still recall almost forty years later.

They even gave me my first kiss.

Although, to be fair, I’m not entirely sure Sea Cadets can take credit for that one.

I love knowing there’s a kid somewhere today putting on a Sea, Army or Air Cadet uniform for the first time, perhaps they’re about to start the same journey.

Maybe they’ll hate the discipline. Maybe they’ll wonder why the hell they’ve been taught how to tie a bowline. And maybe, thirty years from now, they’ll look back and realise that those experiences helped shape who they became. I certainly didn’t understand it at the time because I was just having the time of my life.

Or it could just be me.