Officers and Men Ch. 01

The Staff officer sat down in my office and took off her cap, her task completed.

"What a bunch of cunts," she snarled holding out a hand for me to shake, "You save your emails up Lin," she said. "That obnoxious pretty boy Turnball will want to follow his father into the House of Commons one day; you send them off to the Daily Mirror or the Guardian two weeks before elections. Revenge is a dish best served cold and well-matured ducky."

She then went on to say that she felt that hang over of the sixties and seventies was still alive and well among the very senior officers, and that most single 'career women' officers that didn't put out in this way had been branded 'lesbian' just because they didn't screw their way around the regiment like it was felt a proper girlie should.

It was fucking shit and I hated it, and the lowest point in my career, and I was pleased to get posted to Iraq where there was a real war going on and that was that.

So relationships with Military men were complicated, fraught with danger and I was convinced that I was now a marked woman; I had nailed my colours to the mast somewhat by going up against someone that was hard core establishment like Roger.

Similarly the Army wasn't conducive with a relationship with someone that wasn't a soldier, especially the bit of it I moved in.

I once brought an old Uni' mate to a regimental dinner and he was the only person not in a Uniform of some kind, I thought he looked rather dashing in his dinner jacket and bow tie, but after the Port had been around the table a couple of times the rest of the mess made it quite clear that he wasn't part of the 'club', and that his 'not positively vetted' presence was holding back the discussion.

It was ridiculous, my friend Barney was an investment banker and could have bought and sold the entire room two or three times over and was nothing but gracious to these slightly pissed oafs I worked with.

He got the message quite soon though and I said that he'd be on his way, so I saw him to his car and we had a kiss and a cuddle in the back of his Jaguar.

He left, with a wave and a blown kiss and a promise to 'call me'; back into the mess, and I was greeted with a series of 'what was up with him Lin', 'Didn't like him Young Major', 'always difficult with bloody civvies around', and other shit just because he didn't hold a Queen's commission. I'd only invited him because he'd been to an extremely good public school and played Rugby for Oxfordshire, and seemed the type that older army officers would approve of. The next day the Unit Operations Officer said that if I was going to be seeing this chap on a regular basis, he would need to be vetted or the amount and quality of information I was party to could change.

Fuck.

I don't know if he ever tried to call me, as I was sent to Central America for six months and phone coverage was minimal at the best of times.

Also, I'd never met a bloke that I felt up to the job of being in a relationship with me; Ranger Roger's abuse of me had kind of killed off what was left of the romantic girl that I had once wanted to be - hard arsed in everything, what can I say. I hardly used make-up anymore and the new multi-terrain Pattern uniform we wore meant that the smart and feminine shirt, skirt and jumper combo I'd worn at the start of my career had all but phased out in favour of the asexual selection of greens and browns and beiges that men and women wore across the services.

I shaved my legs only if I was going swimming, wore the most basic amount of make-up out of uniform and hardly ever found clothes that were the slightest bit feminine and never revealing. The 'Ice-Giant' was all soldier now and no one was getting close enough to hurt me again that was for sure. Post-traumatic sex disorder I suppose you could call it.

Except in my dreams and day dreams; I read Mills and Boon Stories in secret on my kindle and had a fine collection of chick-flicks downloaded. Mum still nagged about grandchildren, tried to set me up with every tall man she ever met and I tried not to let her see how much her gentle nudges actually hurt me; on my thirty third birthday I still hankered for that life, although it seemed a dream that was just getting further and further away. I would occasionally meet attractive men of course, and eyes would clash briefly and there would be that subtle check of the third finger of the left hand.

Every now and again there would be some brief conversation, soft smiles before my inevitable backing away when I stood up and he realised I was a head taller than him, or more likely from me at the thought of the pain I'd suffered, and then the complications to my working life of someone that was non-military being in it.

Five years on and I was in London again and had to travel across to Northern Ireland on a small job and carry out some training for an army reserve unit there. Reasonably safe these days but still the army insisted I took someone with me, and I was assigned a driver and part bodyguard to see me to Brize Norton and then across the water in safety.

Fine.

We were based in a large army barracks sharing with two infantry regiments. They ran the place and manned the gates except for the occasional weekend when they had some kind of event on and we did. My driver was new to the unit and parked outside of the officers' accommodation in a rather plain and boring car that we kept for that reason.

The driver came across to me with a smile, and the need to shave. This was something that our unit's men were often allowed if not encouraged to do mind you, doing what we did sometimes you didn't want to look like a squaddie, especially with the Sig Sauer P226 that was nestling in a carefully concealed holster in his belt. And he didn't look like a squaddie, with his designer stubble he looked rather nice actually.

I looked long at him as he got out of the car and walked to the boot. He was wearing a rather smart short green jacket, the same as one that I owned. That stuck out in my memory.

It was the Sunday previously, and in the Starbucks down the road from our camp; this guy had been stood in front of me in the queue and staring at the board, trying to make his decision. He turned, and looked across and down to me; he had to six and a half feet tall if he was an inch and saw me in the same jacket from a popular Tall Persons clothing supplier on line, and he grinned and stepped back,

"Please," he said in a deep rumbly voice that made my toes curl - a bit at least, indicating that I should go first.

"Thank you," I said smiling at him and his tiny act of gallantry.

He was still staring at the board but did look me up and down as I stepped past him.

"Nice jacket," he said recognising it as being the same as his, but I did notice that his eyes rested on my arse for slightly longer than average. It was that voice; that rough, slightly crackly male voice that never ceased to turn me on - Ranger Roger had one - and this guy had bright blue eyes with a hint of mischief.

I saw the connection and grinned.

"You have excellent taste," I replied and ordered my Latte with vanilla.

"Thank you, there are so few of us around." He grinned and then ordered a Latte.

I took my drink and headed for a table stopping to pick up a copy of the Observer that someone had left, and I looked back to see the man in the same jacket as me collecting his drink in one of those insulated cardboard 'take-out' cups. He took his drink, looked at his watch, turned and raised his mug in salute to me; I raised my mug back to him and did likewise, trying to hide my grin.

I can now admit that I was disappointed that this hot looking guy didn't come over and attempt to have a chat with me. I now know that he had an appointment and was reporting for duty at the same camp!

So it was with some surprise that the same man was stood before the Officers' mess wearing the identical 'Softshell' jacket to one now hung on the back of my door was before me now.

"Can I take your bag Mam?" he said extending a hand. He had a gentle smile across his handsome face, dark curly hair that that my fingers just wanted to run through.

This driver was the same tall, dark, very fit looking guy from Starbucks that had checked me out so completely and his eyes narrowed as he made the connection as well. He was extremely attractive and my mind whizzed in a dozen different directions, but whatever my sub-conscious thought about it he reminded me a bit of a time in my life I'd successfully forgotten about; I'd had a rough week and to cap it all I'd come on the day before. I didn't take to what I saw as his familiarity.

"Yes please," I said handing him my large bag. He took it with one hand and our fingers touched. There was a tiny tingle, at least I thought there was. He lifted it easily into the boot. "I'm sorry," I said, "We've not been introduced."

"No Mam," he smiled as he closed the boot and locked it with the key, an extra security measure.

"I'm Captain Major," I said.

"Yes Mam," he said with raised eyebrows. He must have known who I was after all.

"And you are?" I played tough army officer just so the new boy knew where he stood despite any smiles he might have had from me in Starbucks, the ache from my groin did little to improve my mood.

"Oh yes sorry, Sergeant Mam," he said with a nice smile.

"Sergeant who?"

He smiled,

"Corporal Sergeant Mam." I said nothing, and in the painful silence he extended a hand, and I ignored it.

Another fucking comedian!

"Are you taking the piss 'Corporal Sergeant'?" I stood tall, hand on hips, Sergeant Major Bacon would have been proud.

"I'm sorry Mam?" he looked confused and quickly withdrew his hand.

"I don't take to fucking comedians Corporal, especially when they are being funny at my expense and to my face."

"I only..."

"Guardroom 'Corporal Sergeant'! DOUBLE!" I screamed at him.

"Mam?"

"What part of 'double to the guardroom do you not fucking get? MOVE!" I stepped closer to him and jabbed his shoulder with a finger, "Now!" He had some kind of momentary internal struggle and I was having no truck with it, "Now!" I shouted.

He turned with a look of real surprise and trotted away to the main gate where the guardroom was, looking back over his shoulder at me.

"Lock him up!" I shouted at the surprised guard on the gate.

I got into the car and drove it around to the operations office to tell them that I'd get to Brize Norton on my own without the piss taking soldier. I'd put up with that kind of shit for far too many years and didn't need it from some smart arsed pretty boy.

I stormed into the office and remonstrated with the Admin Sergeant,

"Who the fuck is that idiot you've set me up with as a driver?" The Sergeant jumped to his feet.

"Mam?"

"The comedian that's just doubled away to the guardroom, I want him on orders tomorrow morning."

"Sorry Mam," said the Sergeant all of a fluster, "What's he done?"

"He took the piss Sergeant Murray, that's what he did. If he actually is a Corporal, I want him busted down to private first thing tomorrow."

"Sorry Mam, That's a bit of first for us. I'll... I'll have to call the Sergeant Major, he's out until Tues..."

"God preserve us from annual fucking leave," I growled into his face.

"Bank Holiday Mam," the admin sergeant whimpered.

I stormed across the office and logged in to a free PC, and sent messages out to everyone which had the smart arse brought up on charges under section 252 of the Army Act 1955 for 'conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline'.

I typed a quick email to the Company Sergeant Major and the Adjutant, walked out to car and drove to the main gate. I went to the window to sign out and spoke to the Regimental Policeman there.

"That fucking comedian that's been doubled in here," I said, "I want him to learn that the army doesn't do comics and he should go on 'Britain's got talent' rather than waste my fucking time."

"Yes Mam," said the RP.

"What's your name?"

"Rifleman King Mam," he said.

"Right Rifleman King, I will expect a full report on what you boys have done to teach him his manners when I get back. He stays in all weekend get it?"

"Yes Mam!" He grinned and I guessed he would look forward to 'beasting the Int Corps Squaddie' who seemed to have such an easy life compared to the infantry.

I drove to RAF Brize Norton and a quick flight to RAF Aldergrove in Ireland, thinking nothing of the miscreant I'd left in London.

My training session was quickly done, and I helped the local team with some work they needed doing and two days later, back to Aldergrove and a quick flight then I was back in the car and driving from Brize back to London and an extended bank holiday long weekend off, never needed the bloody driver and his gun anyway.

I got back to camp late on Saturday remembering that Corporal Smartarse should now be Private Smartarse and having had the benefit of being drilled around the parade square twice a day by Riflemen with nothing else to do but take revenge to take on a 'REMF' (A rear echelon mother fucker).

I signed in at the gate not seeing Rifleman King, and took the car back to the motor transport section where I parked it, posting the keys and the log book in the secure letterbox provided for after hours.

I went back to my quarters, had a shower and checked through my bag, repacking it for a few days with my parents. I jumped in my VW Golf and drove across into Oxfordshire and our house.

Back in London on Tuesday morning I headed to my office, feeling refreshed from my weekend with Mum and Dad and the thought of a job well done in Londonderry. I headed for the Orderly room as I wanted to make sure that my pisstaker had been taken care of appropriately by the Rifles and was at the very least confined to camp if not still in jail.

"He's gone home Mam," said the Orderly Sergeant, a different one from last week.

"He's WHAT!" I shouted.

"There was a bit of a mix up Mam," he spluttered.

"There had better not have been," I raised my voice, readying myself for my next tirade.

The unit Second in Command, David, appeared at the door to his office.

"Ah Lin, so glad you're back, err... won't you come in to my office."

'What now?' I hissed to myself and felt my lip curl into a Sergeant Major Bacon snarl.

"There was a bit of a problem with Sergeant," he said, "Sadly, the entire company all seemed to take Friday off and he was left wallowing in the Guard room with no one knowing what he'd done."

"He was insolent to me." I said folding my arms, "it was in my email."

"Yes, well no one could work out what he'd done Lin." He sat at his desk, "by the time anyone was able to raise Patrick," that was the Unit officer commanding, "the damage was done and it seems that those bloody Riflemen gave him rather a hard time, and he has a rather large black eye and a fat lip for his trouble." The Major sat down and looked up at me, "The Rifles C.O. has promised me that he'll get to the bottom of the assault of course."

"Assault?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well... perhaps he should have done what he was told." I said with a sigh.

"Lin," said the 2IC, "What did Corporal Sargeant actually say or do?"

"He..." I stopped. I took a deep breath, "Corporal Sergeant?"

"Yes," he said, "What was the nature of his insolence?"

"His name really is Corporal Sergeant?"

"Yes, Andy Sargeant, he's Sargeant with an A rather than Sergeant with an E. Came to us from Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance Brigade - rather well recommended, has the distinguished conduct medal for some job in Afghan before he came to the Corps, we were quite surprised that you stuck him on actually."

"I... I thought he was... I thought he was taking the piss, with me being Captain Major."

"Oh shit!" said David with a groan, "Was that it?"

"Yes," I said feeling a bit concerned now.

"Oh for fucks sake Lin!" he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, "His name is actually Andy Sargeant and he's a Fucking Corporal! He spent from Thursday night in a bloody cell, was beasted across to the cookhouse for every meal three times a day, given drill instruction twice a day for two days and generally fucked over... because you THOUGHT he was taking the piss out of your fucking name!?!"

"Y...yes," I stuttered, not having taken a bollocking like this since basic training.

"Didn't you ask him?"

"No..."

"It appears that late Saturday afternoon, he was being shouted across the drill square in some bloody green overalls those savages had found for him, when he saw Mick Turner driving in with his wife and shouted to him to contact me," he covered his eyes with his hand and sighed again, "shortly after that apparently is when he acquired his black eye and thick lip.

Mick demanded to know what was going on but no way was the Guard Commander going to release him to a Lieutenant because the really tall scary woman Captain had been very specific. Mick called the duty operator and between them they spent Saturday night trying to find anyone that knew anything about what was going on.

Again, sadly we nearly all took an early finish on Thursday or Friday and I didn't get the message until twenty three hundred on Saturday and I called the officers mess and got their duty man to go and release our Corporal early hours of Sunday morning. Of course by then the Rifles barrack guard commander had got rather bored of his protestations and requests and he came off the worse for it."

"Oh shit." I said.

"Exactly," said David. "We've given him a week off to recover and try to make things up with his fiancée. He was supposed to be attending her sister's wedding with her on Saturday and had no way of getting a message to her. His phone with all of his numbers and his locker keys were in the glove compartment in the car you took to Brize with you, and no one could get into the MT office to get the keys until first thing Monday." He rolled his eyes, "Apparently he's no longer engaged to that particular girl."

I slumped in the chair by David's desk, feeling like shit. I'd had a big girl's menstrual tantrum just to prove to some rather nice looking new boy that I fancied but couldn't get to know that I wasn't to be messed with and I got him locked up, beasted, bullied and finally assaulted; basically tortured for three days and had even managed to ruin his relationship.

"There will have to be an inquiry Lin," said David, "I'm sorry but the family are shouting from the rooftops about how a young innocent war hero soldier ends up in prison for the best part of three days for saying his name. We're trying desperately to keep it all out of the papers. This isn't going to end well."

"I'm sorry David," I said, seeing my life's work crashing down around me, "I'll resign of course, take full blame for everything..."

"Pace yourself Lin," he said sighed, "Don't forget, you only locked him up, those damned Riflemen have to take some of the shit, and the rest of the company staff for taking Friday off of course. Go home Lin, I've got your number, I'll call you when the dust has settled."

"Home?"

"Yes, a bit sharpish, the last thing I want is for Horseguards to get involved and you have to hide in your room from press photographers and the world thinking you've been confined to barracks. Worst still, some bloody media spooked Brigadier at Whitehall getting cross and actually confining you to barracks. I'll ring you Lin, I promise."

"Thank you David," I said, "I'm really sorry, I..." I couldn't think of anything else to say, "Let me know, I'll... apologise to him, formally, the whole company if I have to."

"We'll see Lin, it might all blow over. Go home and relax."

How?

I turned smartly away and headed out into the office and saw the variety of office staff 'not looking at me'. I went to the office I shared with another officer, Mick Turner, to collect my laptop - if I was at home at least I could still do some work, I hadn't been found guilty of anything after all - not yet at least.