Chapter 6

With a regular supply of high quality home comforts I settled down, and was soon promoted to Lance Corporal (L/Cpl). This was an acting/temporary/unpaid post, as the army wants to see what you can do before making any permanent promotion. On my 20th birthday -- June 12th 1984 -- I was promoted to substantive L/Cpl (paid), and my feet were now on the first rung of the career ladder. I could now apply to go on the Junior Non Commissioned Officer's (JNCO's) tactical training course at Brecon in South Wales. A pass in this course was mandatory for promotion to Corporal. Before I was selected to attend this course 3RGJ were sent to Northern Ireland on a three month tour.

Although 'The Troubles' had abated somewhat there were still Republican and Unionist gangs running about causing problems. 3RGJ was sent to South Armagh, so called 'Bandit Country'. Weapons, drugs, and people smuggling was conducted over the border with southern Ireland, and there were a series of watch towers and check points all along the border. From company bases we patrolled the surrounding areas, frequently clashing with IRA gangs, and we suffered some casualties from roadside bombs/ IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices).
I hated Ireland; of course I missed Annalise, but it wasn't just that. Although the country of Ireland is beautiful the people were shite, or at least those that I came across were. Being spat at, sworn at, having used sanitary towels, shit filled nappies, and the contents of piss pots thrown at you doesn't endear you to those who do it. The filthy language, from children, young girls and women, had to be heard to be believed. What really got up my nose was that the majority of the local population, who were Republican supporters of the IRA, were living on welfare hand-outs paid for by the 'hated British' taxpayer. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!
OK, so maybe I was a bit biased, and most of the people were good, kindly souls who only wanted to get on with their lives in peace. Being shot at, spat at and shat at does tend to curdle my milk of human kindness. Fortunately for me, after six weeks of being in that shite-hole I was sent on the JNCO course at Brecon.

I managed a weekend at home in Plaistow before finishing the course. Things went a little better with me and Miriam that weekend; my lessons from Annalise, and the fact that Miriam's odious brother was absent saw to that. I actually had Miriam gasping -- 'do it again' -- and as I had managed to reserve my fire I was able to get her to climax again, before shooting a huge amount of sperm into her hot and willing cunt.
The end of the course, which I had managed to pass, came at the same time as the end of the battalion's deployment in Ireland, so I returned to Germany a happy man. I had managed to miss half of a very unpleasant deployment, had a well shagged and satisfied wife at home, and a loving mistress awaiting my return, what more could a bloke want?