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The last national serviceman was demobbed 40 years ago on 13 May 1963. A Labour government in the late 1940s had introduced peacetime conscription to maintain the strength of the armed forces. From then until 1963, more than two million young men were enlisted, including me. It is often claimed that the experience built up moral fibre, prepared louts for civvy street and cured delinquents of criminal tendencies.

But in my experience, far from promoting moral fibre, the prevailing ethos in the armed services was that of skiving. National servicemen copied regulars in the practice of feigning sickness, getting lost, and making tasks last as long as possible. I cannot march in time and on one parade the RAF warrant officer bawled at me: "Holman, you are a zombie. You can't help it but you are a zombie. Don't ever come on parade again." Thereafter I was expected to hide during parades, a skive that made me the envy of the camp.

The television series Lad's Army created the impression that national service was extremely tough. Admittedly, square bashing was hard. But, on completing it, national servicemen then had 22 months of trade training and a permanent posting. At the same time, Trevor Royle's excellent collection of accounts by national servicemen reveals that most made new friendships, enjoyed sport and, in some cases, travelled abroad.¹

But mixing with new friends is not sufficient preparation for civvy street. Most recruits had jobs before being called up and thus had their careers disrupted by two years in the forces. Royle points to a Nuffield study which demonstrates that, after national service, many young men found it difficult to settle back into the routine of their old lives. Some had interesting posts, but others endured unskilled jobs with poor prospects once back in civilian life.

However, the armed forces encouraged study by providing time and teaching to allow national servicemen to take the army and RAF certificates of education. For those who had missed out on school qualifications, these examinations proved to be stepping stones to jobs and to further education once back in civvy street.

Did national service reform delinquents? Professor Thomas Ferguson followed up a group of young men who had been in care and who subsequently committed crimes.² He found those who were delinquent in civvy street tended to become offenders in uniform, too. Indeed, as the forces trained them in self-defence and the use of firearms, it might have equipped them to become even tougher criminals. Interestingly, the rates of crimes of violence in Britain trebled between 1955 and 1964, the years when national service was at its peak.


In August 1958, I was still trying to decide whether to go to university or, as my dad wished, to get "a proper job". I was not due for demob until well after university term started, but fate intervened. I was a radar operator and, during an exercise, I mistakenly identified a large ship in rural Kent. A few days later, I was told to hand in my gear and sign on the dotted line - demobbed three months early. I was able to get a place at university after all, a decision that changed the course of my life. Oddly enough, it trained me to work with the kind of delinquents who were not helped by national service.

Should Britain bring back national service? The decision will be based on military need, and at present the British armed services require smaller numbers of highly trained personnel rather than large numbers of semi-trained ones. Whatever the decision, a return to national service is not the answer to delinquency. Those who are set in criminal ways by the age of 18 will offend whether in or out of uniform. There is no evidence that harsh, regimented regimes will change their behaviour. Help for young offenders will have to be found in different approaches. So, sorry to disappoint "disgusted of Tunbridge Wells" but national service is not the answer to young thugs.

Bob Holman is the author of Champions for Children, Policy Press, 2001.

References

¹ T Royle, National Service: The Best Year Of Their Lives, Michael Joseph, 1986

² T Ferguson, Children In Care - And After, OUP, 1966