James E Mack

Author

Veterans the next Victims?

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On February 1, 2019

In Uncategorized

Service Personnel in Afghanistan showing the exhaustion of operational intensity

In 2018 a Notice to Tender was quietly promulgated by the UK Government. Essentially, private companies were invited to tender for contracts which included, but were not limited to;

Armed Forces Pay, Pensions and Military HR and Administration Services

Administration of the War Pensions Scheme and Armed Forces Compensation Scheme 

MoD Medal Office 
 
Maintenance and development of existing Information System (IS) and enquiry services in support of the above services

 Provision of Veterans Enabling and Supporting Services

It is the last point that I want to address here as this is the issue that is going to affect those who have given their service to the country and are now classed as Veterans. It’s a proven fact that, for many individuals leaving the Armed Forces, the transition to civvy street is a difficult one. There are too many reasons and individual circumstances to generalise on this forum but, suffice to say, a great deal of Veterans struggle to cope.

A lot of the onus in dealing with these cases falls to Veterans charities and support groups, organisations that rely upon donations and volunteers to keep afloat. These groups carry out fantastic work, made possible by the unselfish efforts of their staff and helpers. But again, this is in a voluntary  rather than an official capacity. And there just aren’t enough of them to cope.

The void that is left in the wake of this shortfall is being filled, by necessity, through self-help groups on social media. The Facebook group, Leave No Man Behind (LNMB) is probably the best example of this. Frustrated by the sheer number of Veterans struggling to access care, advice, legal assistance and even just coping in day to day life, the Group came together very quickly to the point where its membership stands at well over 40k individuals.

And that happened organically; no fancy marketing or advertising, no monetising of the Group membership. In short, it does what it says on the tin; Veterans helping each other with advice, connections, or sometimes just a sympathetic ear from someone who knows what they’re going through.

That’s why, when I hear of the plan to outsource the Veterans’ enabling and support services, a shudder runs through me. I can think of no successful outsourcing that the MoD has conducted that has been anything less than a fiasco.

Consider the appalling reports regarding the quality of service that Sodexo is providing to current serving members of the Armed Forces. Or the previous IT farce that cost millions and provided nothing but revenue for the company involved. Or Carillion’s dismal record on service personnel’s housing quarters. Or this one;

Capita’s failure year on year to reach ANY recruitment targets has seen one of the most embarrassing campaigns to date.

I could go on…

My point is, I have yet to see the case made where outsourcing services has achieved anything other than the profit margins of the companies who win the tender. These companies are interested in nothing more than stripping their delivery to the bone in order to maximise profits and please their shareholders and Directors. And while I’m no legal expert, it still staggers me that these companies seem free from the threat of the type of penalties that apply in the private sector for breach of contract…

So here’s an idea: There are tens of thousands of Veterans out there with similar experiences and the ability to engage and connect with other Veterans who are struggling or experiencing tough times. Use them. Employ them to build a service that is fit for purpose. Rather than outsourcing Veterans’ Services to yet another vulture waiting in the wings, formalise and fund a service that will take the weight off the charities and self-help groups.

And employ the very people that this service will be used by; the Veterans themselves. By default it will become a cooperative service, the ethos being that of providing help rather than turning an obscene profit. Veterans who are struggling through a dark period will engage and connect with other Veterans because they know that individual has at least an idea of either what they’re going through or the circumstances that have caused it. And Veterans care about other Veterans; LNMB’s Facebook page is testament to that fact.

So let’s not be the next group to suffer at the hands of another poorly-executed outsourcing exercise. And let’s not continue to allow charities and volunteers to do the heavy lifting that a consolidated service should be doing.

We’re Veterans. Never victims.

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The first female Royal Marine?

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On January 20, 2019

In Military Matters, Topical

Surgeon Lt Lara Herbert on the All Arms Commando Course

With the news hot off the press that the first woman has passed the Potential Royal Marines’ Course, the four-day initial selection process for potential recruits, the reality of women serving in front-line combat units is now fast becoming a reality rather than an aspiration.

The introductory image shows that of Surgeon Lt Lara Herbert on her 30 miler, the last of the Commando tests that she passed as part of the All Arms Commando Course, the AACC. Lara received far less attention for her achievements than that of Captain Pip Tattersall, the darling ‘G I Jane’ of the press and media. Which is a shame, because in contrast to Tattersall’s dubious success after several attempts, Herbert powered through the tests and succeeded on her first attempt.

But, this was the AACC, formerly 8 weeks but now extended to 13 and open to service personnel from all three branches who wish to earn the Commando qualification that will allow them to serve with the Royal Marines on operations. The young woman who recently passed the PRMC will now go on to attempt Royal Marines’ training; 32 weeks in duration.

From the off, soundbites and confident statements from MoD spokespersons declared that there would be no difference in treatment or standards for female recruits. Cynics are already pointing out that the MoD have reneged on this statement by removing the minimum height and weight criteria for women, while retaining it for men. They also point out that, where on week one day one the men form an orderly queue at the barbers to have their hair shorn, the females will not have to undergo this loss of personal identity. They will not shower with the men but will live in the same accommodation to avoid having the female recruits being isolated from the remainder of the troop.

While a lot of old and bold may disagree, I don’t believe that Royal Marines’ Recruit Training has physically changed all that much from when I went through it in the late 1980s. I entered the Commando Training Centre Royal Marines, CTCRM, at Lympstone, Devon as a pretty scrawny specimen. And I found training hard. Very hard. Commando training, by design and necessity must be hard in order to provide the foundation that these Marines will need to prepare them for front-line operations. For me however, much of my suffering was the result of the attrition on my skinny little frame from 32 weeks of physical exertion, lack of sleep, poor diet, heavy weight carrying, and constant activity. By the time the Commando tests had come around, my webbing burns had progressed to open sores, weeping pus as the wounds became infected, my run-down immune system failing in its role. But I did what every other recruit did; padded and taped the wounds up, put the webbing back on and cracked on, passing out of training and recovering at my first Unit where better diet and more rest got me back to normal.

So, when I think about women joining the Royal Marines as opposed to the AACC, I don’t automatically think of them being unable to pass physical tests or carry a bergan on exercise, I think about the degrading of the body throughout that 32 week process and the impact on health and fitness. Typically, a male has a larger frame and more muscle bulk than a female with which to offset such long-term attrition, mitigating the negative impact on the body somewhat better than their female counterparts.

I also think about cohesion. The Royal Marines training that I underwent was free from bullying or unnecessary screaming and hysterics. This was because my Training Team told us what was expected of us and that it was our job to meet that standard, that when it wasn’t met we would be punished harshly for it. To that end my troop, (and I’m assuming all other troops at CTCRM) conducted a lot of self-policing; getting a grip of the serial offenders responsible for the group punishments inflicted upon us. Mostly, this was a case of investing a bit of assistance to an individual who wasn’t quite at the required level and helping them get there. On other occasions however, harsh words and strong verbal confrontations were necessary. It is one thing to deal with being on the end of one of these confrontations as a male member of the troop, quite another when you are the only female and probably already feeling some exclusion or isolation. It also throws up the issue of sensitivities, i.e., what man is going to feel comfortable giving a woman the same level of confrontation as he would another male member of the troop?

A good example of this hit our screens on the channel 4 series SAS: Who Dares Wins where, for the first time, female candidates were allowed to attempt the 2 week event. One of the women, when given the opportunity to select a partner for the milling, chose a man as her opponent. The man was warned by the instructors that he was not to go easy on the woman but to fight her as an equal. And he did. The woman took a fair old pounding from her opponent but stood her ground. Most people probably thought this was a good effort and, for the woman, it was. Her opponent however, was devastated at having punched hell out of a female and struggled to come to terms with his actions. So, arguably nothing to do with the woman, but down to males being unable to set aside generational gender behaviours.

Predictably, opinion is divided on the practicalities and effectiveness of gender inclusion in combat-focussed units with some claiming 21st century values catching up with 19th century policy, while others take the stance of social experimentation at the cost of military effectiveness. I wrote more on this subject in a previous article, Women on the Front Line, where I covered examples of females in combat: https://www.jamesemack.com/women-on-the-front-line/

So, to my knowledge at least, we now have the first female to attempt the full Royal Marines’ Commando training course. Being the first of your kind at anything ensures massive media interest and I have no doubt that this woman will be no exception to the rule. Hopefully, like all other recruits, she’ll be far too busy to acknowledge or even care about this. So, I for one, hope she does well, grits her teeth and gets through her 32 weeks of pain and exhaustion to earn her Commando Green Beret: Providing that the standards, criteria, and treatment remain identical to that of her male colleagues.

And that, at the end of the day, women in the Royal Marines is proven to be an enhancement to the capability rather than a mere experiment in gender inclusion that benefits none.

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When not writing makes you a better writer…

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On August 16, 2018

In Writing and Publishing

 

Writing books is tough. No two ways about it. You do it alone, day in-day out because you’ve got to produce the work that readers are going to expect. You constantly second-guess your story and your characters; Are they good enough? Is this really going to work as a novel?

I can’t speak for other writers, but I know that I get very focussed once I’m into the writing process. I’ll be hammering away at the keyboard all day and don’t like distractions that pull me out of my zone, so to speak. It was only two days ago that I learned the lesson that, while this is productive, there is a balance to be struck.

I have my partner to thank for highlighting this to me. I’d had a good day writing my latest work in progress and we were talking about our plans for the next day. I mentioned that I would, as usual, be behind the computer, smashing through the word count. As an aside, I happened to mention that one of my literary heroes, Gerald Seymour, was giving a presentation at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. My partner asked me why I wasn’t going to see him and I came up with the usual ‘…prioritising my writing…’ justification.

She then stated that I should really go to the event, that I would enjoy it and probably learn some valuable points from such an esteemed author. I countered with several reasons revolving around the expense of travelling down to sit in a room with a huge crowd and not really have any engagement. Her next statement surprised me and gave me pause for thought: ‘You should really go. You never really do anything outside of the writing.’

Now, she wasn’t complaining about our social lives as we make sure that we enjoy our free time together. What she was getting at was that when it comes to writing, all I do is write. Here was the chance to meet ‘the best thriller writer in the world’ according to the Sunday Telegraph, and I was dismissing it to spend another eight or so hours typing in the porch? She told me that I should definitely go and guaranteed me that I would enjoy it.

Her words struck a chord and I recognised the truth in what she was saying. The writing can’t just be about the writing. Influence, inspiration, validation, motivation. None of these traits can be completely nurtured by the self; they require external providers from time to time to refresh them.

So, I found myself taking the train to Edinburgh, (editing a first draft MS throughout the journey. Old habits and all that…) moderately enthused about the forthcoming event. Entering the event location I was stunned to see so many people in attendance. The thriller genre is clearly alive and well among the readers visiting the EIBF. Gerald then took to the stage with the compere and made their introductions.

For the remainder of the presentation I was absolutely rapt. Gerald was witty, smart, self-deprecating and a great speaker. He spoke of his writing process, his approach to research, how he remains current despite being in his fortieth year of writing books based around espionage and suspense. His anecdotes were fascinating and he related how he fed them into his novels.

I left that presentation with a renewed sense of motivation and determination to be good at what I do. I picked up some real gems of information to aid and assist my writing from one of the world’s best. In short, I had one of the most productive experiences of my writing career, despite not spending eight hours on the lap-top. And all because my partner gave me the kick up the arse that I needed to recognise the real value in something.

I read my first Gerald Seymour book, Harry’s Game, in 1984 and bought his latest, A Damned Serious Business, yesterday, 15 August 2018. Having started reading it last night, I am already as invested in ADSB as the sallow, 16-year old me had been in the pages of Harry’s Game.

This was a good lesson for me. That, yes, a writer needs to write otherwise there is nothing for people to read. But also that we need to step away from the keyboard now and again and expose ourselves to positive influences and experiences to help motivate us and maintain our passion for what we do.

In short, sometimes it’s necessary to close the lid of the lap-top to inspire us to be better writers.

 

Fear of the Dark available now!

By

On June 6, 2018

In Uncategorized

Available now in Kindle and Paperback Formats.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DK976FZ/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1528312442&sr=1-2

 

Final steps…

By

On May 22, 2018

In Writing and Publishing

Initial cover for my latest novel. Looking good and happy with the overall effect. Different from Only the Dead in that this book centres around a small team of rural Police Officers thrust into a life and death situation while completely cut off.

Similar themes of PTSD and maladjusted, former Special Forces soldiers remain but have maintained my character-driven form for the premise of the novel.

Have also leapt upon one of the comments from my review team who coined the phrase ‘First Blood meets The Bill in this cracking read.’

That’ll do for me!

Victimising our Veterans…

By

On May 22, 2018

In Military Matters, Terrorism and Counter Terrorism, Topical

 

The conflict in Northern Ireland was referred to as ‘the Dirty War’ by many of us who served there, both because of the way it was fought and the appalling impact it had upon the victims.

The Good Friday Agreement was presented to the public as the panacea that would bring the violence to an end once and for all. It was an extremely bitter pill to swallow for the relatives of those who had died at the hands of the paramilitaries over the years and had then had to watch these murderers return to their communities feted as heroes.

It was also a bitter pill for the Security Forces and the Intelligence Services to digest, reflecting on the risks and toil over the years it had taken to put these killers where they belonged in the first place.

Too much was asked of our soldiers when operating in Northern Ireland:

  • They were expected to prevent physical violence between communities of opposite sides of the sectarian divide, hell bent on killing each other.
  • They were expected to fill the void left vacant by a Police Force that could not carry out the most basic of functions due to the physical threat to their lives.
  • They were expected to endure verbal and physical abuse as they went about their tasks without responding or reacting in order not to risk escalating the situation.
  • They were expected to return to the streets and countryside days after witnessing their friends and colleagues killed or injured, again, without reacting or responding in any manner that could be deemed aggressive by the local populace.
  • They were expected to completely switch from core infantry fighters to peacekeepers after conducting 8 weeks or so ‘theatre specific training’.

The republican PR machine, with its backers and sympathisers from the UK and the USA, was very effective in portraying British soldiers as murderers carrying out a state-sponsored ‘shoot to kill’ policy. The real truth is that soldiers in Northern Ireland actually dreaded the day when they would have to use their firearm because they knew too well the legal consequences of the action and the pressure that the republican movement would heap upon the Government for punitive measures to be taken against the individual.

An example which I believe typifies this is the horrific killing of Army Corporals Derek Wood and David Howes. These two soldiers were murdered in the most brutal manner by a mob of republicans, all recorded by a helicopter’s camera from above. The point here is that both men were armed but the only shot that was fired was fired into the air to attempt to get the mob to retreat. The majority of soldiers who watched the incident unfold or saw it on later coverage were puzzled as to why the men never fired at their attackers. It is my firm belief that, like most soldiers of that era, they had been so used to following the wisdom of never firing your weapon that when the time came when it was absolutely necessary, the mindset just wasn’t there.

We have entered an era where we seem very keen to illuminate the actions of our past with the enlightenment of today’s knowledge, statutes and protocols which have no comparison to the muddled mission statements and directives that soldiers followed through the years of the the Troubles.

Under the GFA, the paramilitary murderers and criminals returned to their families and friends. Those who were On The Run from the law were issued official letters confirming that they could also return with no threat of incarceration hanging over them. Yet we now find we have a government in power who want to pursue former soldiers, some of them well into their 60’s and beyond, for mistakes made while carrying out the country’s domestic security policy? I thought I’d seen it all with the Phil Shiner affair but clearly not.

Don’t hound these veterans for the actions carried out decades before under the most difficult of circumstances. Don’t judge their historic actions using today’s comparisons. Don’t pretend there is anything to be gained other than to pander to the republican victimhood agenda.

But if the government is determined to follow this course of action, then every minister, policy writer and senior MoD official linked to the formulation of policy for military operations during this period should also be held under the same scrutiny. Deployed Service personnel are merely a physical representation of a government’s domestic or foreign policies; nothing more.

Here’s an idea: Level the playing field. Give our NI veterans a ‘Good Saturday Agreement’. Acknowledge that mistakes were made while operating under stressful conditions with muddled directives and policies. Acknowledge that no party with any involvement in the Northern Ireland conflict will ever be satisfied and therefore also acknowledge the futility in highlighting one party, the veterans, for investigation.

Give the veterans their own official letters, letting them know they have nothing to fear from legal reprisals. Allow them to remain at ease in their homes with their families. In short, allow them nothing more than that which was afforded to the terrorists and criminals who dragged Northern Ireland through a senseless conflict for over three decades.

Sleeping with the enemy…

By

On March 18, 2018

In Military Matters, Terrorism and Counter Terrorism, Topical

It may seem an odd title for a post regarding the Russian poisoning of Sergei Skripal in Salisbury but bear with me, as I’m hoping it will make sense.

I, like many of my generation, have struggled to understand the rising popularity of Jeremy Corbyn as a future leader of the United Kingdom. However, I have no axe to grind with those who support him as I believe that the individual votes for the candidate that they believe represents their views and positions the best. And it would be nothing short of arrogant of me to shout them down by implying that I am fully cognisant of their entire personal circumstances.

As I say though, I am pretty sure that it is a generational issue. I am of an age when I remember Corbyn’s unflinching support for the IRA, attending terrorist’s funerals and standing shoulder to shoulder with the very people who were bombing London, Manchester, Warrington and other UK cities and killing innocents as they went about their daily lives. I remember well his support for communist and left-wing regimes that sanctioned and conducted state-sponsored murder and executions of any opposition, real or imagined. Jeremy Corbyn seemed, to me at least, to hate the UK so much that he would leap at the first opportunity to embrace any cause that ran contrary to our national interests.

But that was all happening as I was growing up. Corbyn’s bedrock of support is sustained in no small part by the younger demographic. And the younger demographic will always seek to go against the trends and values of their previous generation as they always have. This is human nature and something we do almost without thinking. More significantly though is the fact that the younger generation who are championing Corbyn et al, grew to maturity in a very different time than people of my age.

Consider it for a moment: They grew up when the IRA were on a ceasefire and had signed up to the Good Friday Agreement. Not for them the daily grind of grim news reports of sectarian murders and bombs on British streets. They grew up after the Berlin Wall had been torn down. No sitting open-mouthed in front of the television watching as a couple were mown down by machine gun fire as they ran the gauntlet of razor-wire entanglements to reach the West. Yes, we have the dread of Islamic fundamentalist attacks as a feature in today’s society but these are franchised actions with amorphous links and relations to an ideology rather than an actual physical entity.

In short, they grew up without their country experiencing a definitive threat. They grew up without any exposure to an actual enemy. Because that is what both Russia and the IRA were to the UK; our enemies. That word sounds almost anachronistic even as I write it. A term discarded long ago as we seek to convince ourselves that in our new enlightened age there can be no such thing as enemies, that somehow any conflict or aggression can be solved with dialogue and political detente.

Which is great if the whole world follows this ethos. But of course, they don’t. But what they do, is exploit the good intentions and soft-skills approach to their own advantage. Russia has used our 16-year distraction in Afghanistan to develop and hone their asymmetric conflict tactics to great effect. Their mastery of information operations to subvert and sabotage smaller states and countries is actually well-ahead of most nations. We just need to look at Georgia and the Ukraine as past examples and the Baltic states as current ones where the Bear’s malign influence is being wielded.

And now we have the Labour leader in the UK categorically refusing to support the call for punitive measures against the country that has, to all intents and purposes, committed an act in contravention to NATO Article 5; a state-sanctioned, armed attack on a member country. By Friday, he softened his tone somewhat by declaring that he was willing to accept the possibility that ‘McMafia’ type criminals may have been responsible. What is encouraging is the way his own backbenchers have distanced themselves from him and are openly giving their support to the PM in defiance of their leader’s directive.

Yet still, we have a significant amount of people who, like Jeremy Corbyn, are pushing out the narrative that this was nothing to do with the Russians and even worse, that our own intelligence agencies carried out the attack in order to whip up national fervour and support for…well, your guess is as good as mine.

But here’s the point; Russian info-ops count heavily on the acceptance and support for their narratives and the subsequent spread on social media. And those who, like Corbyn, utterly reject the facts in favour of half-baked conspiracy theories, are assisting the Russians. Jeremy Corbyn’s pantomime performances in Parliament over this issue are edited and re-broadcast in Russia where the population there is led to believe that he is the last bastion of truth in a corrupt and feeble UK government. And the message to the people is clear; the Russian government had nothing to do with this attack and even the UK’s most popular politician is saying this.

Vladimir Putin just won another election term based on no small part on his strong stance on the international stage. The Kremlin’s aggressive foreign policies distract from the everyday suffering of ordinary Russians under Putin’s leadership and the narrative very cleverly controlled by the state media outlets. There is no independent outlet to counter these messages or broadcast the truth. Instead they take well-edited snippets from people like Jeremy Corbyn and mesh these with their domestic reports to create the illusion of international suspicion that the UK carried out these attacks.

Even now, the UK has deployed thousands of Service personnel to the Baltic states to provide a show of force and a deterrent to Russia’s recent aggression. And the reports are already coming back of Russian info ops setting up off-duty soldiers in PR coups and stings that are then reported as criminal acts against the Russian populations within Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Russia had almost succeeded in portraying Latvia as a failed state, just as they had achieved with the Crimea. Their next phase was obviously a physical invasion of the small country disguised as a ‘defence intervention’ on behalf of persecuted Russian communities in Latvia. Our deployment alongside that of our allies has, if nothing else, put the brakes on the momentum for this invasion if nothing else. But for how long is really anybody’s guess at this stage.

So when I read of people, especially those who should know better, repeating the Russian narrative, I get pretty annoyed. They are falling for the political equivalent of the ‘Nigerian Millionaire-Prince Scam’. But the impact here is far greater than that of an idiot being relieved of some cash. It is assisting a hostile foreign power who are murdering people in our own country to get away with it.

I’m not advocating that we should never challenge our government or our Security and Intelligence Services. I actually believe that questioning and challenging are healthy accountability processes that encourages these agencies to be as transparent and compliant as possible. But there is a giant difference between questioning and challenging and championing the Russian narrative. And those who do this are sleeping; keeping their eyes and minds closed to facts and reality. Sleeping through scientific reports that name and date the source of the poison. Sleeping through the very strange deaths of other individuals who have escaped their Russian masters. Sleeping through the ill-concealed pride and glee that the Kremlin is reacting to the poisoning of Sergei Skripal and his daughter with.

But they are not just sleeping, as their actions have impact beyond themselves. Their sleeping through fact and reason gives strength to the Russian cause. To the enemy cause. 

Sleeping with the enemy.

 

Ten Songs of War and Conflict…

By

On March 11, 2018

In Military Matters, Topical

For anyone who has spent anytime in the service of their country, particularly in conflict zones, there will usually be specific songs or music that recall the experience or relate to it. When I was younger and began looking at joining up in a more serious light, I began watching the popular war movies of the day.

Generally speaking, I’d seen most of the WW2 classics that my father had been fond of when I was a kid, but very few of these had songs or memorable music. For me, it was the profusion of Vietnam films that first provided war and conflict with a soundtrack. Particularly when I was at the age where I was preparing to sign on the dotted line and had a renewed interest in all things military.

On the eve of heading down to Lympstone to attend the Potential Recruit’s Course, my friend and I watched Full Metal Jacket. I still rate it as a superb piece of work but taking the cinematic accomplishments aside, it was also one of the first war movies where I really paid attention to the music. I noticed that the music that accompanied the scenes added something different compared to other movies I’d seen. Nancy Sinatra’s ‘These boots are made for walking’ played over the scene of a Vietnamese prostitute approaching the soldiers as they are robbed by locals on a moped. Or The Trashmen’s ‘Surfin’ Bird’, played on a radio in the background and then as part of the soundtrack proper as the platoon are interviewed as they are deploying to Phu Bai.

The next major movie of note that I would have to say really utilised a soundtrack to augment the film was the classic Platoon, the big screen adaptation of Oliver North’s account of his experiences as a young grunt thrown into the chaos of an ill-understood war fought by a largely conscripted army. The music used in Platoon was, in my opinion, the first time the significance of the soundtrack in augmenting a war movie was really put into effect. From Smokey Robinson’s ‘Tracks of my tears’ to the haunting ‘Adagio for strings’ that accompanies the scene where Sgt Elias is killed, the music was clearly well-thought out.

So, to that end, here are 10 songs relating to war and conflict that, over the years, I find myself being drawn back to again and again for either their impact or the memories that they invoke.

Copperhead Road by Steve Earle

I really can’t remember where I first heard this but it is a real favourite for me. Earle’s growling vocals and the mandolin riff that morphs into the signature blues-rock narrating the tale of a redneck boy and his journey from white trash to Vietnam vet to drug smuggler.

‘…now the DEA’s got a chopper in the air, I wake up screaming like I’m back over there,

I learned a thing or two from Charlie don’t you know, you better stay away from Copperhead Road…‘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvaEJzoaYZk

 

Soldier by Harvey Andrews (sometimes called A British Soldier)

Based upon the heroic actions of Sgt Willets of 3 Para in Northern Ireland in 1971, the folk-singer Harvey Andrews was so moved by Willets’ selfless bravery that he felt compelled to write a song that told the story of the soldier. The song is well-known by service personnel and held in high regard for both its poignancy and the rarity of recognition for the conditions that the forces endured during the Northern Ireland conflict.

‘…then came the call to Ireland as the call had come before, Another bloody chapter in an endless civil war,

the soldiers stood between them, between the whistling stones, and then the broken bottles that led to broken bones..’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKZQyv6X4JI

 

Khe Sanh by Cold Chisel

Almost something of an unofficial Australian anthem this is another cracker of a tune that grabs you right from the first line. The legacy of the Vietnam war on the veteran and his problems in coping with life on his return are laid bare through the gruff vocals and brilliant piano/guitar accompaniment.

‘…I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh, And my soul was sold with my cigarettes to the black market man,

I’ve had Vietnam cold turkey, from the ocean to the silver city, and it’s only other vets could understand…‘  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTjvG4WJD_A

 

Travelling Soldier by The Dixie Chicks

At the height of their popularity, The Dixie Chicks made a very public statement attacking the decision of the Bush administration to take their country to war again with Iraq. Their music was immediately boycotted by many radio stations in the US and with several major retail chains refusing to stock their music, their career tanked badly. From multi-million sales to a slack handful over the course of a year. They always insisted that they fully supported the US Military but took issue with the government’s foreign policy decision. They wrote Travelling Soldier as a rebuttal to the boycott and as a demonstration of their commitment to the US Armed Forces.

‘…so the letters came from an Army camp, in California then Vietnam, and he told her of his heart, it might be love and all of the things he was so scared of…

he said when it’s getting kind of rough over here, I think of that day sitting down at the pier, and I close my eyes and see your pretty smile, don’t worry but I won’t be able to write for a while…‘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbfgxznPmZM

 

When the Tigers broke free by Pink Floyd

An unusual one, but then nothing that Pink Floyd produced was ever going to be pedestrian. Roger Waters penned the song in commemoration of his father, Eric Fletcher Waters who was killed during the battle of Anzio in 1944. The song is a short but intense piece made all the more atmospheric by martial score and the backing vocals of choir.

‘…there was frost in the ground when the tigers broke free and no one survived
from the Royal Fusiliers Company Z,
they were all left behind most of them dead the rest of them dying, and that’s how the High Command took my daddy from me…’
I was only 19 by Redgum
Another one from Australia and again, another classic. Redgum’s John Schumann wrote the song based on experiences he heard from his brother in-law and other veterans. Originally going to be called ‘A Walk in the Light Green’, a reference to operational patrols in areas marked light green on topographical maps. Where dark green indicated thick jungle, plenty of cover and few land mines, light green indicated thinly wooded areas, little cover and a high likelihood of mines.
One common misconception is that the story in the song is that of a conscript, however the age of conscription at the time was 21 and the story being told is that of a volunteer.
‘…and Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay, this clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean,
and there’s me in me slouch hat, with me SLR and greens, God help me, I was only nineteen…’
One by Metallica
An anti-war song by one of the world’s leading rock bands. It is the story of a WW1 veteran who is so severely wounded that he can only communicate through a strange system of morse code where he begs for the hospital staff to allow him to die.
Introduced by some beautiful guitar and an innovative video this is not easy listening by any measure. While a bleak and disturbing narrative, it is very highly regarded for its intensity and departure from the band’s traditional path.

‘…I can’t remember anything, can’t tell if this is true or dream, deep down inside I feel to scream, this terrible silence stops me,

Now that the war is through with me, I’m waking up, I cannot see that there’s not much left of me, nothing is real but pain now…’

Goodnight Saigon by Billy Joel
I like this song which was a really different project for Joel at the height of his popularity. It deals with the experience of US Marines in Vietnam and the poor treatment that they received on the home front. Interspersed with the vocal and the piano are the sounds that the Marines experienced, including crickets in the bush and armoured vehicles and helicopters. A beautiful, if poignant, testimony to the fighting men.
‘…We had no homefront, we had no soft soap, they sent us playboy, they gave us Bob Hope,
We dug in deep and shot on sight, and prayed to Jesus Christ with all of our might…’
And the band played Waltzing Matilda by The Pogues
This song was originally written and performed by the folk singer Eric Bogle, but for me, Shane McGowan absolutely nails it on The Pogues’ album ‘Rum, Sodomy and the Lash’. McGowan’s vocals give a rougher edge to the delivery that I believe adds to rather than detracts from the song.
The story is that of an Australian WW1 soldier fighting in Gallipoli, the wounds he receives and his subsequent return to his life in Australia. Unashamedly anti-war it still remains a very powerful song and one that I return to regularly for the impact of its lyrics.
‘…and the band played Waltzing Matilda, as we stopped to bury our slain,
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, then it started all over again…’
Sergeant MacKenzie by Joseph Kilna MacKenzie
After the death of his wife, Joseph MacKenzie penned this song in memory of his great-grandfather Charles Stuart MacKenzie who was a Sergeant in the Seaforth Highlanders in WW1.
At 33 years old, Sgt MacKenzie was bayoneted to death while defending a wounded comrade during severe hand-to-hand fighting in the trenches. On a slightly spooky note, at the family home in the Elgin area of Scotland, a portrait of Sgt MacKenzie hung above the fireplace, as it had done for years. One day it fell from the spot, crashing to the floor. His mother stated that she believed it was a sign that her son had been killed. She was correct; several days later the official notification arrived informing her of her loss.
This tune is haunting and remains with you. It gained further fame when it was included on the soundtrack of the Mel Gibson movie ‘We were soldiers.’
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Role Models…

By

On February 13, 2018

In Military Matters, Topical

I have a colleague who spent a full and busy career in the Police, operating at every level and all over the country but specialising in London and the South East of England. A large proportion of his work involved dealing with young gang members and the crimes they committed. He is adamant that a major part of the problem that fuels gang membership is the lack of credible male role models within these communities. It is this, he insists that pushes young individuals into the hands of the very people who will destroy any possibility of a normal life.

Our conversation got me thinking about role models throughout my own life and in particular, within my military career. My first exposure to individuals I sought to emulate and aspire to be like was on my Royal Marines’ Potential Recruits’ Course; the PRC. This was essentially a few days spent at the Commando Training Centre where the Royal Marines got to take a closer look at you while you got a small taster of what would be in store for you should you choose to accept it.

From the off I found the staff at Lympstone to be all manner of things: Funny, confident, sarcastic, brutally honest, to name a few. And this didn’t change when I began my training as a fledgling Commando recruit. Like most bootnecks, my first real exposure to any kind of role model was our DL, the man charged with getting our precious little backsides through the first two weeks of induction. Our DL was, and still is, a very funny guy but with, understandably, very high standards. In our first two weeks at Lympstone he was the person that we saw most of, the man who informed us that we did not even know how to wash ourselves properly so arranged a demonstration of an individual cleaning out his crevices in the communal shower so that was no excuse thereafter for being crabby. Recently I posted a picture a friend of mine taken on day one of Induction showing myself and another two recruits standing by the demonstration locker. Despite this photo being close to 30 years old, and the DL having who knows how many thousands of Nods pass through his clutches, our DL commented on one of the individuals’ heinous crime of hiding dirty dhobi in his locker. 30 years on. Legend…

I was also a bit of a favourite of our PTI. The club-swinger, for whatever reason, took a bit of a shine to me and would often engage in a bit of banter while I was hoovering in oxygen from every orifice during another ‘mild’ beasting. In return, I looked up to the guy, as may Nods do to their PTIs. However, there were quite a few occasions that myself and my fellow Nods were witness to that stayed with me throughout my career and encouraged me to be as honest and fair in my dealings with people as he had been with us.

The first instance that springs to mind was when my Troop had been allocated an orienteering exercise around Exmouth on a Saturday morning. We were all pretty happy with this as it was a welcome departure from being worked all day around camp. Our PTI couldn’t attend so another individual took his place. Once in Exmouth, we set off in our pairs and completed the course which was really designed more as a time filler than any serious test of ability. On our return to the transport however, the sullen-faced PTI informed us that our PTI would be disappointed to hear that we had been cheating on the exercise. As no more was said on the matter, we assumed it had been a joke.

It wasn’t. On Monday morning, our PTI assembled us on the Bottom Field and informed us of his humiliation at being told of our dishonesty. And that he was going to make sure we paid the price for it in order to learn that integrity is everything in the Royal Marines. Daily thrashings after phys became the norm and, while this was bad enough, the fact that we’d let him down was also weighing heavily on us. After one such hammering, we had a Troop meeting on the landing and with everyone swearing their honesty, concluded that none of us had cheated. As I said, it was a welcome time-filler and not a test, so there had been no motive to cheat in the first place. Also, as I was the club-swinger’s blue-eyed-boy, the decision was made that I should put our case to him.

To be clear, this is not something that a Royal Marine Recruit would usually do. The standard response is to shut up and take the punishment rather than risk further wrath and retribution. But we all felt that our PTI was a man of integrity and that he would at least give me a fair hearing. And he did just that. I marched over to the gym, my plimsoll-clad, left foot slapping the tarmac hard and my brain struggling to form a coherent sentence that would explain our position without calling a PTI a liar. Once I’d gotten through the three hallowed doors that gave entrance to the PTI’s inner sanctum, my PTI stood up and asked me what the hell I wanted. I don’t remember the words exactly but I do know they came out alright and also how the expression on his face changed as I stammered through.

‘Are you telling me that Corporal X is a liar? Are you truly standing before me and claiming that a Royal Marines’ Physical Training Instructor looked me in the eye and lied to me?’ I told him that we definitely were not calling Corporal X a liar, but that not one of the Troop had cheated. He was raging. His face had changed colour ad his dark eyes were boring into me. There was silence for a moment before he pointed at me and said, ‘Okay, you give me your word that none of the Troop cheated on that exercise.’ So I did. Because it was true. He nodded and told me to thin out and that he would deal with me later.

The next day we had a normal, if indeed there is any such thing, phys session in the gym. At the end of it as we covered down on our spots, our PTI stood us at ease and looked down at us from the dais. He beckoned to someone behind us and the sound of running feet echoed in the gym as he was joined by the PTI who had taken us on the orienteering ex. Our PTI then addressed us.

‘In the Royal Marines, integrity is everything. And that doesn’t matter whether you’re a Nod, a Corporal, a Sergeant or a Rupert. It’s what sets us apart gentlemen. Corporal X would now like to say something to you all.’ The other PTI raised his head for the first time and began by apologising for lying about our performance on the exercise. As our collective gobs dropped open, he went on to explain how he was going through a shitty divorce and had been hitting the drink hard and taking his misfortune out on Nods in general. He then asked us to not look upon him as a typical example of a Royal Marines’ NCO as he was not. We should look upon him as the opposite. He finished with another apology and looked up at our PTI who nodded his permission for his colleague to leave. Our PTI waited until he had left the gym before reiterating the torrid time that the other PTI was going through but that this did not excuse his actions. As gobsmacked as we were I can still recall the significance of our PTI’s actions in calling out a colleague on the basis of the word of a recruit. Incredible really, and I know a lot of people who, even if they had suspected the untruth, would have taken the easy road of thrashing the Nods anyway.

Throughout training, I witnessed another couple of episodes which, while not as intense as this, still demonstrated the strong moral compass with which our PTI held himself too. Our paths continued to cross throughout the years, in Northern Ireland, Iraq and Africa. He picked up a gallantry medal at some point but more recently was awarded the George Cross for outstanding bravery in rescuing civilians from a terrorist atrocity. I was not surprised to see this at all, having identified from as long ago as recruit training, that he was made of the ‘right stuff’ for want of a better phrase.

Like many former service men and women, I have been fortunate to have encountered some of the finest role models who have made the biggest impact upon me and, I believe, helped to mould the person that I am today. I have also, like many, met some Olympic-standard throbbers who actually contribute in their own way, sending a shudder down my spine and a vow to ‘never be like that guy…’

I think my Police colleague is right; when we don’t have a role model in our immediate circle of friends and family, we seek it elsewhere, be that in sport, popular culture, or a gang. I truly believe that I was fortunate in being exposed to a steady stream of positive role models throughout my military career but that it all started with stepping off the train at Lympstone Commando and through the gates of CTC.

To those who Serve

By

On December 13, 2017

In Military Matters, Topical

I’m not really one for watching lots of television although I love good movies or a high-end box set. To that end, I do sometimes find myself behind the curve in recognising current popular culture personalities, media-led trends, and what’s hot and what’s not.

Recently though, my good lady introduced me to the delights of ‘I’m a celebrity, get me out of here’. Essentially it’s a show devoted to the collection and demeaning of C and D list individuals of ‘celebrity’ status, dumping them in an Australian rainforest and forcing them to endure unpleasant trials to earn food. Roman colosseum entertainment for the 21st Century masses.

Be that as it may, the one thing that I picked up on was how much these personalities missed their homes and loved ones, despite the fact that, currently at least, they are around the 14 day mark. A fortnight. Watching a recent episode where the celebs received emails from people at home, I was struck by how emotional they were. And it got me thinking about those members of the Armed Forces who, throughout their careers, will spend years away from their homes and families.

A friend of mine posted last year about how he was gutted to be missing his daughter’s seventh birthday and went on to say that he had only been home for three birthday’s throughout her life. He didn’t moan or gripe about it as he’s a thoroughly professional soldier and one who accepts full responsibility for his choice of career. It was more a case of surprise at how much he’d missed once he’d taken pause and added it all up.

Our country asks a lot, and is given much, from our men and women in the Armed Forces. A standard military operational tour today pretty much writes off the best part of a year for the deploying personnel. Between the progressive exercises, mission-specific training, and pre-deployment prep, the six-month operational tour generally equates to a good nine month’s plus of absence from routine life.

The improvement in communication helps to offset this a little. Face Time, Skype, WhatsApp, Instagram, email etc all facilitate connectivity between the deployed individual and their families. I was reminiscing with a colleague recently about the old days of stone-age communications and the severe limitations.

On a mountainside in Northern Iraq my fellow commandos and I spent two months living in shell-scrapes under our ponchos. We would receive letters from home maybe once a fortnight if a helicopter was heading our way and if the mail had reached our headquarters element. We would go some weeks with no contact whatsoever with home and then receive a bundle of letters that had accumulated in a post room at a US base in Turkey.

The issue here was that it would take a long time for letters to make it between correspondents and many of us could be seen shaking our heads as we read the familiar line from our loved ones; ‘…why aren’t you replying to my letters?’ Or, my personal favourite was when the chopper would come in, land, be unloaded and the excited shout of ‘Mail!’ sent the troop running to the HLS. Someone would hand out the mail, yelling names and sarcastic remarks as they distributed the small white rectangles of morale. There was general quiet as each of us lost themselves in their missives but then there would be a yell of disgust or disbelief as one of the guys received a Poll Tax demand or a letter from his bank demanding he explain why he was consistently overdrawn. Perfect pick-me-up when you’ve been over a month with no other contact from home…

An attempt to alleviate this was the use of the ship to shore call using our radio equipment to call a Royal Navy ship that would then relay it to our loved one’s landline. Again, it seems surreal in this day and age to imagine sitting in a signaller’s tent talking into the handset of the largest PRC radio and trying to get it through to your loved one that she had to say ‘Over’ when she had finished her sentence, made all the more difficult by the five second delay. Or when you’d made the trek to the sigs location, waited for over an hour in the queue and then get nobody home.

Generally speaking, most Service personnel on operational tours are very busy so the time on the ground goes quickly for them. It is however, usually dangerous, stressful, and intense. Draw these elements out over six to nine months and it is not difficult to see how the UK military has become as exhausted as it has over the past ten years. A study I saw some years back showed that the same 35% of the military carried out 90% of the operational tasks, something I’d always suspected but was not surprised to see confirmed.

Year on year, the accumulation of absence from the routine of home life takes its toll. The missed Christmases, birthdays, anniversaries, concerts, New Year parties.

I’ve seen first hand the pressures that these extended absences from home have on the stability of the family unit. Many Armed Forces’ families often find themselves posted alongside their spouses to unfamiliar towns and cities. New schools for the children, new jobs, new routines and dynamics. When the Service member is deployed at this point, the wife or husband remaining behind is suddenly expected to cope with the responsibility of assimilating the family into their new life and deal with all the associated stresses.

When these deployments extend over Christmas, it provides an added pressure, particularly when there are younger children involved. I’m sure many of us have experienced seeing a friend or colleague looking a bit teary-eyed as they hang up the phone or log-off the computer on Christmas day before heading back to their Ops Room or sangar duty.

And the military does try to alleviate this for their deployed personnel. EFI-sourced entertainers, Charlie-Charlie messages from the CO, and the standard Christmas dinner for the troops are just some of the methods with which the pain of absence was supposedly alleviated. But, as someone else once said, ‘the more they try to make it like home, the worse it feels’, or words to that effect.

I’ve spent a lot of Christmases being away from home and usually in pretty grim places, sharing cramped accommodation or a basic bunk. It was always a little easier for me as I didn’t have children but still a lot for my partner to put up with. And sometimes I’d question it: WTF am I doing spending another Christmas day in a dusty, desert shit hole when I could be at home with a belly full of turkey and a large Laphroaig in my hand? Why does anyone do it?

We do it, or did it, because we serve. Because we chose to invest ourselves in something that required bigger sacrifices than could ever be expected of the standard Joe Public. And I think it’s sad to see that this notion of service is all but disappearing from our national psyche. More and more, people seem to be increasingly driven by the notion of self and individual gain than by the giving of anything back.

Even our government recognises this. David Cameron’s ill-fated initiative of a national service for the civilian sector, an indicator of his feelings on the subject. The fact that this initiative failed as spectacularly as it did shows I think, the level of public apathy for anything that does not provide personal gain or instant gratification. I also think that the further a nation removes itself from embracing the notion of service, the bigger the gulf between the people and the Armed Forces becomes, as the general populace have even less in common with the service men and women who deploy on their behalf.

So, to all those members of the Armed Forces deployed abroad this Christmas, or even stuck on Base Company duties or Unit Security, I say thank you. To the soldier carrying out framework patrols around a FOB, to the sailor safeguarding our maritime interests and to the Airmen and women posted to middle-eastern bases supporting our extended operations, thank you for your service. At a time when it can often seem that the notion of Service is all but consigned to the dustbin of history, you can be assured that many of us still recognise the value and importance of your sacrifices at this time of year.

So again, to those who serve, or have served, thank you. Thank you for your Service.

 

 

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