Post by Gunbladelad on May 10, 2019 6:52:57 GMT
This is a funny short story I wrote many years ago - based loosely on my own experiences back when I was in the Territorial Army in the UK (which is called the Army Reserves now)
Anyway, enjoy...
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The typical Territorial Army “Jock”, or Scottish Soldier, normally travels home from a weekend camp the height of Military luxury transport – The 4-tonner. This vehicle is a standard-issue 4-tonne truck, with a tarpaulin over the back to protect the Jocks from any rain, but is tied loosely enough so that they never get too hot – even in the height of summer. The wooden benches inside the vehicle give the jocks a place to sit in comfort. The drivers of these vehicles have to undergo a special training course to ensure they hit every pothole, bump, and dead hedgehog in the road, thus making sure that the Jocks are kept awake.
Upon arriving at their designated drop-off points, the Jocks unload their luggage including the Bergen, “Sausage bag” hold-all, webbing, and any additional civilian bags they may have had to take along with them. This type of load can look daunting to many civilians, but it is quite easy to carry when you achieve the correct balance. With a nudge to help set them in motion, usually with a farewell along the lines of “Nae fucking need fur that ya bastard.” or “Ah wish Ah’d shot ye when ah hid the chance.”, the Jock makes his way along the remaining 3 mile journey to his home.
Along the way, he often encounters groups of children asking “are you a real soldier mister?” or groups of youths chanting “We’re in the army now…”. The response to the youths is usually a one-fingered salute, whereas the children usually warrant no more than a fierce-looking stare.
Once home, the Jock then has to locate his house keys from among his baggage, then somehow manoeuvre himself and his bags through the doorway. This becomes quite simple after some practice, with only the paint on the doorframe becoming damaged on the way through the door. Once in, the Jock then removes all of his baggage by pressing one clip and allowing the whole lot to fall on the floor. The resulting noise from the impact lets the Jock’s neighbours know that he has returned for the week.
After this, the Jock then typically goes for a bath or a shower. Those that opt for a bath often become comatose from the sheer heat of the warm bathwater, and wake up when it is a more comfortable 5 degrees Celsius.
At this point, they will normally utter something like “aw fuck – Ah’m late fur the match!”, and quickly proceed to get dressed into their clothes. Typically this is a T-Shirt that’s been growing mouldy in the corner, and a pair of jeans with numerous large holes in them.
Upon reaching their local Public bar, the jock will tend to find their team 3-0 down, warranting a celebration due to the team not being beaten 5-0 like the previous week.
Several hours later, the Bar staff will then get the bouncers to escort the Jock out of the bar and gently propel him into the gutter.
At this point, the Jock is often ravenous - especially after a weekend on military rations - but as his stomach is full of alcohol, there’s no space in his stomach for food. He will then make space for food, by vomiting beside a lamp post at some point along the street, ensuring that it’s in the centre of the pavement so that any passers-by can see it in plenty of time. After a trip to the nearest fast-food outlet, he’ll begin the walk home happily singing, while eating the food. In many cases it could be argued that he has no idea what he’s singing, but this is socially acceptable as nobody else will have an idea as to what he’s singing either.
It is usually around this point that often the local Police officers come along, and offer the Jock accomodation for the night in the Police Station, for which he shows his gratitude for by attempting to remove the officer’s hat, then wearing the Officer’s handcuffs.
Anyway, enjoy...
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The typical Territorial Army “Jock”, or Scottish Soldier, normally travels home from a weekend camp the height of Military luxury transport – The 4-tonner. This vehicle is a standard-issue 4-tonne truck, with a tarpaulin over the back to protect the Jocks from any rain, but is tied loosely enough so that they never get too hot – even in the height of summer. The wooden benches inside the vehicle give the jocks a place to sit in comfort. The drivers of these vehicles have to undergo a special training course to ensure they hit every pothole, bump, and dead hedgehog in the road, thus making sure that the Jocks are kept awake.
Upon arriving at their designated drop-off points, the Jocks unload their luggage including the Bergen, “Sausage bag” hold-all, webbing, and any additional civilian bags they may have had to take along with them. This type of load can look daunting to many civilians, but it is quite easy to carry when you achieve the correct balance. With a nudge to help set them in motion, usually with a farewell along the lines of “Nae fucking need fur that ya bastard.” or “Ah wish Ah’d shot ye when ah hid the chance.”, the Jock makes his way along the remaining 3 mile journey to his home.
Along the way, he often encounters groups of children asking “are you a real soldier mister?” or groups of youths chanting “We’re in the army now…”. The response to the youths is usually a one-fingered salute, whereas the children usually warrant no more than a fierce-looking stare.
Once home, the Jock then has to locate his house keys from among his baggage, then somehow manoeuvre himself and his bags through the doorway. This becomes quite simple after some practice, with only the paint on the doorframe becoming damaged on the way through the door. Once in, the Jock then removes all of his baggage by pressing one clip and allowing the whole lot to fall on the floor. The resulting noise from the impact lets the Jock’s neighbours know that he has returned for the week.
After this, the Jock then typically goes for a bath or a shower. Those that opt for a bath often become comatose from the sheer heat of the warm bathwater, and wake up when it is a more comfortable 5 degrees Celsius.
At this point, they will normally utter something like “aw fuck – Ah’m late fur the match!”, and quickly proceed to get dressed into their clothes. Typically this is a T-Shirt that’s been growing mouldy in the corner, and a pair of jeans with numerous large holes in them.
Upon reaching their local Public bar, the jock will tend to find their team 3-0 down, warranting a celebration due to the team not being beaten 5-0 like the previous week.
Several hours later, the Bar staff will then get the bouncers to escort the Jock out of the bar and gently propel him into the gutter.
At this point, the Jock is often ravenous - especially after a weekend on military rations - but as his stomach is full of alcohol, there’s no space in his stomach for food. He will then make space for food, by vomiting beside a lamp post at some point along the street, ensuring that it’s in the centre of the pavement so that any passers-by can see it in plenty of time. After a trip to the nearest fast-food outlet, he’ll begin the walk home happily singing, while eating the food. In many cases it could be argued that he has no idea what he’s singing, but this is socially acceptable as nobody else will have an idea as to what he’s singing either.
It is usually around this point that often the local Police officers come along, and offer the Jock accomodation for the night in the Police Station, for which he shows his gratitude for by attempting to remove the officer’s hat, then wearing the Officer’s handcuffs.