Do the Thing and You Will Have the Power

..so said Ralph Waldo Emerson, and now my big brother Seth Godin has reiterated it in his own admirable style. Very few of us (in fact none of us) 'feel' like getting up on a regular morning or doing the things we're supposed to, and yet we still scrape through somehow. That's just because, once you start to do something, no matter how much of a running jump was required, you find yourself warming up to it. Procrastinate too much and you'll end up feeling much more uncomfortable than you do when you start the job. So in essence the way to find the energy to do something is to do it; waiting until you've found the energy to do it is a bit like saying "I'd put some wood on that fire if I could get any heat out of it", or "if I won that marathon I'd start training for it". Maximum respect all round.

One of Our Boys Is Missing - Chapter 3, The Civvy in the Bivvy: Part 1

Charlie 'Terminal' Moraine is a former special forces soldier who served in the legendary (especially since it's now defunct, along with most of the legendary British Army regiments) 53 Assault Reconnaisance Squadron in some of the world's hot spots (well they were hotspots if you were a special forces operative anyway) including Northern Ireland, Oman, Columbia at the height of the drugs war, and Chelmsley Wood in the West Midlands. The Puumaja Crew is proud to present, in serial form, his new book, 'One Of Our Boys Is Missing', covering his life story and over 20 years in the front line of one of the deadliest units since the Ottoman Janissaries.
Chapter three and Charlie passes out from the Calthrops, only to have tragedy strike for the first in a number of times sufficient enough to warrant publishing his memoirs


Our final day at Thrushingfold, and thus the day we'd step out into the big bad world of the British military, finally came. It was a shame to leave the place, I'd grown quite attached to it. It had certainly been an experience, I felt I'd aged about a year in about nine months. I was earmarked for 3 Battalion, who were also usually resident in the same barracks we'd trained in, but at the time were in Gibraltar. The great news was the Kev and Phil the eyebrows were coming with me! Gareth was going to 1 Battalion, who were tasked with the heavy duty anti-tank weapon of the day, the Carl Gustav 84mm, and were up in Catterick in Yorkshire.

Seating was set up in the parade ground for our passing out, it was going to be a real big show. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a small lump in my throat as I heard the crippled palomino played absolutely note perfect by our fantastic regimental band, as I stepped up to receive my beret. Actually I'd had this lump for some days now, it was very sore and I was very worried; turned out it was my tonsils and I had to go and get them taken out by an army doctor a few days later. My parents and sisters had come to watch, though there was no Natalie, which I was disappointed about. 

Colonel Cam, the boss of the whole regiment, came briskly down the serried ranks stopping every so often for the requisite questioning of the new soldier “Bloody well done...I remember when I passed out...where are you going next?...are your family here?”. I'd attempted to get round this by strategically placing myself next to Jake, the one and only black dude to pass out in our troop, he was bound to stop and talk to him thus missing me out, but in a novel twist he actually got both of us, unexpectedly turning to me after giving Jake the once over.... “..and where are you going next?” he almost unthinkingly asked me, so I gave an almost unthinking answer “well, straight after this sir, I'm going to head for the bar for a bit. Then if I'm still able to, I'm gonna go back to my room and get my stuff. After that I'm meeting up with..”..the game show host frozen smile and glazed expression morphed into something a whole lot more pissed off as it slowly dawned on the Colonel that I was actually giving him a real reply to his answer “alright don't get clever with me sunshine” was the rebuke I earned and I was disappointed. He could have ruined my career right from the get go if he'd wanted. Still, some people have no sense of humour.

The folks came for a brief chat at the post-parade reception in the bar, Ted was on leave from his unit and was in fine form, bantering with the guys about how our unit were just souped-up traffic police, and they responded in kind, noting that the signals were nothing more than glorified switchboard operators. The time came for them to go, and I waved goodbye to them at the barracks gates. My father gave me a final wink through the opened window and, still turning back and waving, shot away rather quickly, only to slam into a car in front of him. It was quite an impressive car, a Merc, in fact it was the adjutant’s.

‘Where the bloody hell did you learn to drive? In France?’ the adjutant bellowed as his imposing frame emerged from the car door. I just heard my father mumbling some platitudes before turning tail and sprinting away from the scene.

I decided to go into town to find Natalie, and discover why she hadn’t turned up to the parade. I still remember to this day that it had clouded over, and was starting to spit rain here and there. I’d changed into casuals and I was wearing a new bomber jacket I’d just invested in. I was eager to see her before we left. She was going to come up to Aldershot where we were to be held for a couple of weeks before going to Gibraltar, we'd even talked of marriage.

 
Then I saw it...a local newspaper hoarding, the words seemed to scream at me 'Decapitation of Tragic Natalie: Pictures'. I knew it was going to be her even before I read the article; it turned out she'd been sucked into one of those giant hairdrying machines they used to have in hairdressers, whilst she was getting ready to come to the parade. Apparently her last word was 'Char...'. I just ran and ran in the pouring rain, not knowing where to go, until my feet literally dropped off.

The previous installment can be viewed here.