#fromcarltontocommando
By LongJohn
I wasn’t born into soldiering.
I was born in Carlton —
a place of terraced streets,
straight talking neighbours,
and enough character
to keep you honest.
Back then, the world felt small,
like everything important
happened within walking distance.
But something in me
wanted a bigger horizon,
a louder heartbeat,
a life that didn’t fit neatly
into the streets I knew.
So, I signed on.
Simple as that.
One decision,
and suddenly the lad from Carlton
was standing beside a 105-Pack Howitzer gun
wondering how the hell
he’d ended up here.
The regiment knocked the edges off me,
sharpened the rest,
and taught me things
you don’t learn in Carlton—
like how to trust a det
with your life,
how to read the sky for trouble,
and how to keep charge bags dry
even when the rain
is coming at you sideways.
But I never forgot where I came from.
Carlton stayed in my voice,
in my humour,
in the stubborn streak
that carried me through
more than one bad day.
And every time the gun thundered
and the ground shook under my boots,
I’d think of that lad
who left Carlton - Nottingham
looking for something bigger —
and found it
in the recoil of a gun
and the company of gunners.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 8:13 AM UTC