The Royal Tank Regiment

08/03/2017 1 Comment(s)

The Royal Tank Regiment or RTR is the oldest tank regiment in the world. The RTR was formed as early as 1916 during the Great War by the British Army. Originally formed from the Machine Gun Corps, the pioneers of armoured warfare became the Tank Corps, who formed 8 battalions by the start of 1919. During the Second World War, the RTR, had 25 battalions fighting all over the world.

 

Currently the regiment is based at Tidworth and is equipped with Challenger 2 tanks. Their official uniform is unique to the rest of the Royal Armoured Corps; instead of the standard-issue blue beret, the RTR wear a black one. Their uniform of black coveralls is also reserved especially for the Regiment.

 

Soldiers in the RTR also wear a cap badge which shows an image of an early Royal Tank Regiment tank. Their motto is ‘Fear Naught’.

 

During the First World War, walking sticks were often used by officers to probe the ground in front of their tanks to test the firmness. Often, the commanders led their tanks into action on foot. More recently to commemorate this, officers of the Regiment carry ash plant sticks instead of the short cane customary to other arms.

 

To view our Royal Rank Regiment uniform accessories click here.

1 Comment(s)

ROY MUIR:
17/04/2017, 08:02:27 AM, facebook
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I would like to post this poem for all to see as this is happening all to often to our service men and women no matter what regiment or corps they served in I am an Ex serviceman my self my name is Roy Muir I served from 1964 to 19 74 and am now a published poet and playwright, please can you accept this my poem HE STOOD TALL thank you in advance Roy,HE STOOD TALL He stood so tall in his uniform a soldier of the land, He would fight for his country with guns and by hand, Serving his country he was so proud to do, But how soon they forget all the good deeds he carried through, All the medals won do not mean anything as his time is done, Left all alone and on the street no home to call his own, His country he proudly fought for has left him all forlorn, They now just spit and him and call him awful names. They do not know what pain he endured fighting all the war games, To them He is just a homeless man for they do not care, They shout at him and chase him telling him to move on there, He tries to tell them He’s a man who once stood proud and tall. But they just will not listen to him and kick him down like a football, He sobs and cry’s out with such pain such worry and despair, Praying to the God above please find me a home somewhere? No home is forthcoming so alone he must be. Crying dying out on the street no one to care for me, The medals in his pocket are displayed for all to see, As he is laid out on the street a proud man he used to be, No bugle call or drum beat as he is laid to rest, A soldier he once was one of the very best, It’s only now they understand just what horrors he went through, Of course it’s now to late to say he fought for you, and me, No marker on his grave to say what a proud man he used to be. Author Roy Muir 17/04/17

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