Author Name
James Love (Author)
Old Paratrooper's never die, They go to hell and regroupIt is said, that the army lives on its characters. And of that, it has been said that I certainly am one of those. I joined the army in 1973, my basic training, was carried out at the depot of the Royal Artillery, Woolwich. I had been told, by the friendly recruiting Sargent, that at 6'2". I was in fact, too tall, to join the tank regts, as I would not be able to fit inside one, due to my height. I had thought, that driving a tank, would be the easy option, and ideal for me. All you would have to do, if it rained, was close the hatch, and if it got a bit cold, turn on the heater. There would be absolutely no walking involved. So I would not get tired, or dirty. When we had come back from being on an exercise, I would merely get a big hose out, and wash the thing down, easy, simple, go for a beer.Having read all the Commando comics, I knew not to be a signaler, as radios were heavy, and in all the films, they usually got shot. So, after doing the aptitude tests, and being told I was capable of being a Regimental Surveyor, I gladly signed on, and took the Queen's shilling. Thinking that I would be able to build roads, and buildings, in Civvie Street, when I got out. It only took me three years, to get my first glimpse of a director stand, and only then, from through the dial sight of a 105 mm .pack howitzer.Since then, I have traveled worldwide, in the service of Queen and Country, experiencing the dining etiquette of MCTC, (the Military Corrective Training Centre Colchester), as well as, that of the Officer's Mess. I served a short spell, with the French Foreign Legion, reaching the dizzy heights of Corporal. But, it was not for me, (the pay was bad), and I thought the British Army was disorganized, till I went to France. I must admit, I did like the songs, as many could testify to. Upon hearing my noisy drunken returns to barracks late at night, (often via the officer's mess). Where I would serenade them, till being politely asked, to "f*** off” and go to bed.As a 2066 once stated: "He tends to lead a curates egg style of existence". Nothing's changed Bob. Today I dodge a different type of flack, I work for the MOD as a Civil servant.Read more about this authorRead less about this author
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