It was winter. Night had already fallen. The thermometer was taking a nose-dive and I was on guard duty. Whilst Daily Orders were as usual advertising the potential threat posed by dissident Irish Nationalists, I was more concerned with the imminent threat of snow.
I had not long been on duty, when a staff car approached. A large black, luxury limousine, with flag flying; this was at least a full general. The driver apparently assumed the ostentatious pomp of the vehicle was sufficient ticket of entry. Naturally, I took a different view. Doing something, anything, would be a distraction from the cold.
I placed myself in the car's path and the driver pulled to a halt. The window wound down and I could see that he wore full dress uniform, which bore three flashy stripes. A sergeant.
'What is it?' he asked.
'ID, sergeant,' I said.
'I'm in uniform,' he declared indignantly. 'Can't you see?'
'Yes, sergeant,' I replied, 'but I still need to see ID.'
'We're going to the officers' mess,' he snarled, savagely.
'Not without me seeing your ID, sergeant,' I said. At this I think I heard a murmur from his shadowy passenger deep in the back. At any rate, the sergeant produced his identity card, which I inspected closely. It was perfectly in order and the picture looked exactly like him.
'And your ID?' I said, addressing the passenger, as I handed the sergeant his identity card back.
'Drive on,' came the command from the deep recesses of the rear of the car. The sergeant slammed the car into gear. Ch, ch. That was the sound of my rifle. The sergeant's face drained of colour, the gear lever was moved with electric efficiency and the car shot backwards, dangerously into the road at a surprizing speed, momentarily halted, before speeding away.
It was only a matter of minutes before I was unceremoniously arrested and thrown in jail. The cell was small, but warm and it had a bed with a blanket. It was no time at all before I was practising my seven by sevens. Zzzzzzs.
It was mid-morning before I was summoned by the Regimental Sergeant Major. I was, like some common prisoner, double marched to his office by a gratuitously barking regimental policeman, who would every hundred metres or so call out, 'Mark time!'
On arriving at the Regimental Sergeant Major's office, my officious escort was, to his bewilderment, curtly dismissed and I was told to close the door after him. The Regimental Sergeant Major explained to me that the colonel was furious. It seems that the previous evening I had apparently turned away the Colonel-in-Chief, who had been the regiment's special guest at a dinner in the officers' mess in his honour. This was most embarrassing and there must never be any repetition. 'You understand,' said the Regimental Sergeant Major, as he winked.
'Yes, sir!'
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