When he joined the army, the author had the reading age of an 11-year-old. But he can still remember the pride he felt at reading his first book

I joined the army straight out of juvenile detention at the age of 16. I was no criminal mastermind – I burgled the same block of flats repeatedly and was always going to end up getting caught.

The education system had failed me; I had attended nine schools in seven years and I didn’t see the point of it. I wanted to be a panel beater or a tube driver; I had heard they made loads of money and you didn’t need much education for those kind of jobs. So that was it – why bother going to school? All I needed was to get a council flat, and I had that cracked because my parents were already on the list. All that was left was a Mark II Ford Escort and that would be me made.

As it was, I was heading down a path that eventually led me to prison. Despite what Only Fools and Horses would have you believe, Peckham was never full of Del Boy cheeky chappies, having a laugh on the market then going off to drink cocktails in the pub. It was full of unemployment, drugs, guns and mindless vandalism. As a teenager I felt angry with people who had shiny new cars or spotless motorbikes, simply because they had stuff and I didn’t. So I used to kick their cars and bikes in, just because I could. I would vandalise people’s shops and mess up their goods, because they had it and I didn’t.

It was while I was in juvenile detention that the army recruitment guys turned up and offered us an early release if we joined up. It sounded better than prison, so off I went. But the army turned my life around by opening my eyes and showing me that there were opportunities if I took the initiative and made something of myself. If I was willing to put in the effort.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘I had just made words up when I didn’t know them.’ Photograph: David Levene/The Guardian

When my world truly changed for the better, I was in a classroom, alongside about 20 other boy soldiers, with an old sweat of a captain standing up front. He pointed out of the window, towards the barbed wire fence and the real world beyond, saying: “Out there, they think you are all thick. But you’re not. The only reason you can’t read or write is because you don’t read or write. But from today that all changes.”

And it did. I soon learned that the reason I hadn’t been able to join the army as a helicopter pilot, as I had hoped, and had ended up in the infantry instead, was because I had the literacy and numeracy levels of an 11-year-old. I had no idea that I had a reading age that low; I had just made words up when I didn’t know them, and usually ended up getting them wrong.

It was just before I turned 17 that I read my very first book: Janet and John Book 10. I can vividly remember the sense of pride and achievement I felt. It was meant for primary school children but I didn’t care. I had read a whole book, and I was hooked. From then on I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. Of course it took me a while to catch up with where I should have been, but whether it was a tabloid newspaper, a car magazine or a book, I just wanted to try to get as much knowledge as I could.

I learned in those early days at the army education centre, and then again when I joined the SAS, that the most important thing you have is knowledge. There are always people falling over themselves to help you and teach you stuff, and you are never going to progress unless you keep learning. Literacy and numeracy levels for the average infantry recruit joining up now are still relatively low, and the incredible educational opportunities that the army offers makes it one of the few places with decent social mobility in the UK.

For me, improving my literacy levels had another more surprising outcome. When I left the SAS, I was asked to write an account of the Bravo Two Zero mission and that led to the unexpected career change of becoming an author.

I have spent quite a bit of time over the past few years visiting schools, prisons and workplaces, as well as army bases and businesses, to talk about my past and encouraging others to start reading and writing. The guys joining up now still have the opportunity to change their lives, just as I did. The message I give to all the lads that I chat to is that if I can do it, anyone can. If that is a message that even one of them takes on board and uses, then it has been worthwhile. The main gist of what I tell anyone willing to listen is that the best soldier out there is the one with a library card.

Get Me Out of Here! by Phil Earle and Andy McNab is out now