Chapter 17: Court Martial

According to military law my offence could have been dealt with by my Commanding Officer, Lt Col. Renshawe-Todd, holding a Summary Hearing. After making his judgment he could then have awarded the punishment merited by my crime, a possible prison sentence of up to 4 years. However, Sweeney had been present at the scene of my 'crime' and so was unable to take part in any legal action against me, other than that of a witness. It had therefore been decided that I would be dealt with by a General Court Martial, to be convened at HQ BAOR, at Mounchengladbach. The irony that I would be facing a court martial at the same venue where Ffion would have been meeting the NAAFI Regional Director, prior to joining me in a Cologne hotel for 48 hours of untrammelled sex, was not lost on me.

Meantime I was placed under open arrest, which meant I couldn't leave the barracks, and I had to be accompanied by another SNCO whenever I left my room; it also meant that I couldn't carry out my duties as a platoon sergeant. I kicked my heels for five days before I was taken, in No 2 Home Dress with medals, to face the music in front of the court.

It was during those five days that I heard that Probert was even deeper shit than me. He had been charged with causing an affray, possessing an offensive weapon, and even more heinous, being under the influence of drugs. Whatever happened to me would be nothing compared to the punishment he would receive; several years in the glass house (military prison) and then a dishonourable discharge from the army, with no pension or references. I also heard at this time that Ffion had been released from Sick Quarters and had moved off camp with Geraint, no one seemed to know where.

It seemed a bit like hitting a nut with a sledge hammer to put me up before a General Court Martial. A District Court Martial has the sentencing power to award up to 4 years inside a military prison, and surely they weren't going to give me more than that. It was an open and shut case, I had definitely struck a superior officer, and most of the great and the good of HQ BAOR had been there to witness it. That was part of the problem, well, of my problem. The fact that the crime had been carried out in full view of very senior officers, and also of distinguished foreign and British guests, during a Waterloo Ball, was a black mark for the regiments concerned, and meant that the whole book would be flung at Gareth Probert and me. We had brought disgrace onto our regiments by our unseemly brawl, and we were going to have to pay the price.

The Judge Advocate at my court martial was a Lt. Col. from the Adjutant General Corps (AGC), a trained lawyer, who acted as the legal expert, although it would be up to the other five members of the board for the decision reached as to my guilt. These five officers, all ranked above captain, were drawn from all branches of the army. One from the signals, one from the engineers, one from the infantry and one from the artillery, with the token female, from the Woman's Royal Army Corps (WRAC).

I could have opted for a professional lawyer from the AGC as my defence counsel, but instead I chose my platoon commander, Lt. Ralf Gray. Not even a defence team of of Perry Mason and Rumpole of the Bailey could have got me off the charge, to which I had already pleaded guilty. My only hope was a lenient sentence, and Dolly Gray was the best man to get it for me. He spoke up on my behalf and really laid it on thick, pointing to my exemplary behaviour during my army service and alluding to my gallantry award. Dolly was going for mitigating circumstances in order to get me the lightest sentence possible, as the actual offence I was charged with was undeniable. I had struck a superior officer.