Chapter 6: Friends Reunited

Trenchard Barracks was the place where I had attended an 81mm mortar course some 6 years previously, and I was pleased to return. The town of Celle is small enough to be friendly but large enough to have a flourishing night life. There's plenty of accommodation in the town available for married soldiers based at the camp, so I was hopeful that Miriam would be joining me for Christmas.

The first person I saw, as I booked in at the guardroom on arrival, was my namesake, and one of my dearest friends, Franklin Delroy Desmond.

"David!" He came over and clasped my hand in both of his, "I asked to be put on Orderly Sergeant so as I could welcome you." He smiled a huge West Indian smile, and I thought 'what a mate, to get put on duty just so he would be on hand to greet me'.

Franklin had been promoted to sergeant about 3 months before me and had been posted to 1RGJ from 2RGJ. He had been married for nearly a year, and was living off camp in a hiring in Celle town (a hiring is a civilian owned property, but hired out to the military.)

"Celeste will be so happy to finally meet you; I've told her all about you," he grinned and continued, "well perhaps not all."

I had been unable to get to their wedding, which had been held in Jamaica. Both Franklin and Celeste's parents had agreed to hold the ceremony out there as both sets of grandparents still lived on the island.

We quickly caught up with what we had been up to; he wanted to know what it had been like out in Kuwait and I gave him the bare facts of how basically we (3RGJ) had done bugger all.

"Well," he said a trifle ruefully "at least you've got another medal to add to your collection."

In any other bloke it would have been said in a sneering, jealous, or moaning way, but Franklin was just stating a fact. It was true that I now wore more medal ribbons than most men in the regiment. The Military Medal, the South Atlantic Medal, the General Service Medal (for service(?) in Northern Ireland), and now the UN medal for the Liberation of Kuwait.

"Anyway, you had better report to the Orderly Officer, he's in the office at the rear of the guardroom."

Franklin had a bit of a grin as he said this and as I walked towards the room I wondered why he hadn't accompanied me.

I knocked on the door, heard 'Come In' from inside and opened the door to find Harry Ledbetter sat behind the desk.

"Dave, it's bloody good to see you!" He stood up and came around the desk and hugged me, not the normal greeting from an officer to a junior rank, but then Harry and I were more like brothers than officer and other ranks. Harry had been promoted to Captain just before we left for the Middle East (much to his chagrin). Officers have to move on promotion like other ranks, and he had been posted to 1RGJ. He was now second in command (2i/c) of Delta company, and Franklin was a platoon sergeant of one of D company's platoons.

"I tried to get you into Delta, but the Old Man wouldn't wear it." (the 'Old Man' being Lieutenant Colonel Renshawe-Todd, Commanding Officer of 1RGJ, who was known as Sweeney to his men). Harry had sat down and he waved me into a chair. "He said there were too many ex 3RGJ already in post. Mind you with Franklin not long promoted, me not long promoted and then you coming to join us, it might be seen as if D company was turning into a kindergarten. You've been posted to Charlie company, the Officer Commanding (OC) is Tom Fairhome, a good man. He will assign you to a platoon, but I expect it will be #9; their platoon sergeant has just got his ticket" (finished his time in the army).

Harry knew that Miriam and I were back together and he agreed that it shouldn't be too long before accommodation would be available for her to join me.

"I know you were very close to..." he had to think for the name but managed it " ... Pippa, but it's only right that you should be with your wife when living out." He smiled when he said it but I knew he wasn't best pleased that I had pulled a fast one on him when I had applied to live out when at Aldershot.

We spent a few more minutes chatting about this and that until Franklin back came in, and they both then said their goodbyes, as they were due on parade; we arranged to meet up in town at the weekend.

"Oh! before I go," Harry stopped in the doorway, "check in with the Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) before booking in at the Sergeants Mess. You've heard of Mr. Chivers, no doubt?"

Everyone in the regiment, and probably the entire army, had heard of RSM Rodney Chivers, known as Iron Rod on account of his erect posture and his method of ruling. He had joined the Royal Green Jackets as a corporal from the Grenadier Guards, for reasons no one has ever found out. Coming from one of the most uptight and pukka regiments in the British army to the most laid back had been a culture shock for him. He had never taken to the familiarity of the officers with the men, especially the use of regimental names. It was said he had never used a man's regimental name, and it goes without saying that no one ever called him Iron Rod to his face.

I left my kit in the guardroom and went to the RSM's office in battalion HQ. He welcomed me with a handshake, my MM obviously gave me a certain standing with him, but he soon showed his Iron Rod side.

"Before too long, I suggest you visit clothing stores and exchange that," he pointed to the red beret on my head, "for a regulation rifle green beret. I do not allow multi coloured headgear in my battalion. It looks like a snooker table when those battalions that do are on parade."

He wasn't alone in the army of not liking the practise of wearing red berets by parachute trained men not in the Parachute Regiment. They considered that the qualification badge, of parachute wings, was adequate to distinguish airborne trained soldiers from the others.

I left the RSM's office and booked into the Sergeants Mess. The Senior Mess Steward, a grizzled old Staff Sergeant from the Royal Logistic Corps, gave me my room key and then said,