The Psalms of the Sergeant

This story is based on a real incident(Subject to the usual military hyperbole) The names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike. Enjoy.

“Why were you leading the whole bloody regiment sergeant?”

“I dunno sah” I bawled slamming up to attention “It just happened I was commanding my vehicle when I was told to lead my packet sah.”

“And who put your packet at the front of your battery which was leading the whole bloody regiment Sergeant?” The colonel sounded annoyed beyond words his normal calm persona seemed to have temporarily deserted him. The thing is sergeants do not lead regiments; it just is not done except on this occasion it was. No one would have been any the wiser had I not dropped an enormous clanger.

“My Troop Commander sah”

In the Royal Artillery the armoured command post often leads the battery with the command post officer stuck out of the hatch pretending he can read a map. He is followed by the guns, their huge supercharged engines howling as they greedily devour diesel and air whilst belching black fumes from their exhausts.

On this day we were short of officers, we were always short of officers in the sixties, and I was deputizing. No problem there as I’d done it a few times before standing up through the open hatch catching all the weather whilst my Troop Commander led the second packet from the relative comfort of a Landrover. The route instructions were simple, well written and clear: maintain an average speed of eighteen miles per hour, fifty metres between vehicles and four hundred metres between each packet of vehicles that way we didn’t create traffic chaos.

My unit was leading a column of sixty odd vehicles going on exercise with the American army down in the south of Germany. We had travelled overnight on a very uncomfortable freight train then, at some god forsaken hour of the morning, we’d disembarked the guns and vehicles and were finally heading for our camp still many miles away.

“Have you seen the extent of the damage sergeant?” colonel Parmeter wanted to know.

“No sah” I replied a few decibels quieter.

“Well I have and let me tell you, sergeant, it runs into many thousands of pounds.” the ominous tone of his voice left me with a deep sense of impending disaster.

The route instructions we were given ran to four pages. I was the only vehicle commander in the whole bloody regiment to have been given just three pages, my page four was AWOL. I had no idea there was a page four. That might not have been such a problem if only my instructions, by a quirk of fate, hadn’t run out just as we arrived at the gates of an American army base. Instead of going straight on I thought Ah we must be here then and turned in followed by my four monstrous guns.

The colonel’s voice dropped to a quiet hiss “The roadways in that American camp are eight feet wide around their one way system which is quite adequate for their light infantry vehicles sergeant.”
My heart sank. Oh god our tracked (American) 175mm self propelled guns were eleven foot wide juggernauts with thirty odd foot long barrels that alone weighed nine tons.

I pictured the neatly kept lawns and flower beds that had adorned the edges of the roadway past their command buildings. I had to pass these HQ buildings in order to correct my route. A bemused military policeman had stopped me holding a visitors list on his clipboard and informed me we were not on it. And did I know the gun tracks had churned up his commanding officer’s flower beds as well as the asphalt road? His commanding officer, he informed me, was not best pleased about it and would I kindly get the hell off his base.

Oh Jaysus, I’d managed to upset two armies in the space of but a few minutes. There was nothing else for it but to continue around the one way system to the exit followed by my convoy. My next problem loomed quickly. I was fast approaching a Tee junction and the arrangement of the buildings around it, one on each corner and one dead opposite, meant the guns would be unable to negotiate it. There was nothing for it but to order my driver to cut the corner by driving over what appeared to be some neatly clipped grass. “Swing her left Jock” I said into the microphone.

“Left it is Sarge” came the reply from my driver, I could tell by the gleeful note in his voice that the little bugger was enjoying himself immensely. Half way across I looked back to ensure the guns were following me it was then I saw my tracks were churning up this gorgeous greensward which I now recognized was a beautifully manicured pitch and putt course. I groaned inwardly as my radio burst into life. “Hello 2 this is 9 where the hell are you? Over. My call sign was 2, 9 was the colonel of the regiment. This was turning out to be a real shit day.

“Go to your vehicle and bring me your route instructions sergeant.” Colonel Parmeter snapped.

My heart palpitated as I threw up a salute, did a smart about turn and doubled away. Oh Jaysus Mary and Joseph I prayed grant, I beseech thee, a swift and painless death or rescue me in this my hour of greatest need. This fiasco could cost me at least one of my three stripes, and the consequent shame of demotion. I found my map case and extracted the papers there were just three sheets neatly stapled together. Then I saw to my horror another copy of the instructions lying on top of the radio a quick check revealed that these contained the required four pages.

Bloody hell! If these were found in this vehicle I was in deep shit. All possible excuses would be swept aside and retribution would be swift and harsh. I quickly stuffed the surplus papers down the front of my trousers and returned to the colonel. He examined my instructions for what seemed like and age turning them over looking keenly at the staple seeking evidence that it had once held a fourth page.

“And this is all you were given?”

“Yessah!”

He paused for an eternity just staring at me then ordered “Ask your Troop Commander, Major Bladon and Major Allsop if they would be kind enough to join me Sergeant.”

“Sah.” I yelled, saluting smartly.

I departed sharpish in pursuit of the said officers. Major Bladon was my battery commander and Allsop was the battery commander of HQ battery who was responsible for issuing the route instructions.
I hovered at a distance whilst the officers shuffled uncomfortably in front of the colonel. Odd scraps of their conversation drifted my way. “He’s very unhappy…” ripped up tarmac…. Flowerbeds trashed… What the hell…? How are we going…? “He’s coming over…”  “Bloody hell Patrick…” I couldn’t hear much because of the noisy guns but could tell from the body language that my Troop Commander lieutenant Patrick Sheppard was getting a right old bollocking.

The nasty sinking feeling in my stomach told me this episode was going to rumble on and on and that a huge mountain of poo was about to hit several fans in both armies;  these fans, it seemed, were aimed squarely at me.

For some reason the twenty third psalm was going through my head ‘yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death yet will I fear no evil’ was somehow stuck on repeat.

The group of officers broke up and Major Bladon came up to me looking annoyed and embarrassed. “This is all your fault sergeant, what the hell possessed you to turn into that camp man?” He didn’t bother to hide his exasperation. Before I could reply he continued “There is, I’m told, a very senior American officer who is most displeased with you sergeant, most displeased indeed and he’ll be here shortly to voice his displeasure to the colonel.” he paused eyeing me up and down. “Now for god’s sake man should he ask to see you do try and give a good impression. You must stand to attention at all times and explain as briefly as possible how you made your mistake without making excuses. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

Now that we had finally arrived where we were supposed to be, a scruffy training camp a few miles down the road from the posh American one I’d trashed, I had work to do. The current situation took priority of course so I was left to stand outside the building that was to serve as the officers’ mess for what seemed like an age all the time reciting the twenty third psalm. Now I’m not a religious man in the accepted sense of the word but the constant repetition helped calm my nerves. Anyway it could do no harm to enlist as much help as possible.

The long sleek American staff car was cruising sedately up the road to the mess. On each wing a brightly coloured pennant fluttered proclaiming the importance of the car’s occupant. Oh gord I thought as a shiver ran down my spine this was going to be even worse that I thought. I was recently married with a new born daughter. Ellen, my wife of a year, loved mess life and took to it like a duck to water. Now, due to my ill luck and/or stupidity, I was about to lose the lot. Such were the dark thoughts consuming my mind as the car drew to a halt.

The driver got out and opened the rear door to reveal a two star general no less in all his finery. My colonel and his tribe of officers came out of the mess to salute the general somberly. No one even glanced at me standing to attention as stiff as a cigar store Indian as the party went inside. The general’s chauffer returned to the car and sat studiously ignoring me.

I knew what was going on inside the mess of course the officer clan would be closing ranks tighter than a beaver’s backside ensuring all the shit slid off them and landed on me. It was ever thus.

After about fifteen minutes the general came out alone and approached me. I felt my throat go dry as he regarded me speculatively for a moment then he said “let’s walk sergeant.”

I was startled by this I didn’t expect the general would want to walk with me for social reasons I thought maybe he’s looking for a quiet spot to shoot me.

“Tell me what happened son.”

Son? Did I hear right? The quiet way in which the question he asked threw me somewhat, was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? I explained as concisely as I could about the route instructions ending:”I’d like to apologize sir.”

We stopped about fifty yards from the mess and I assumed the attention position. “At ease sergeant” said the general in the same quiet voice. As I relaxed my trousers sagged slightly revealing the top edge of my hurriedly hidden paperwork. The sharp eyed general asked “what’s that sticking out of the top of your trousers sergeant?”

My heart sank oh god that’s it I thought, my numbers up. I could hear the cell door clanging shut behind me. ”That is a copy of the full route instructions sir.”

“So you had them all along eh?” he sounded deeply disappointed.

“No sir” I explained how I’d found them later.

General Stirrup, looked me in the eye for a long moment as if trying to make his mind up about me. He then held out his hand and asked “May I see those papers?”

I handed them over a feeling of deepest despair engulfing me. He leafed through them briefly “What do you expect will happen now soldier?” he asked his voice suddenly sharp his eyes boring into mine.

One thing I learned in the army was that one never made excuses no matter what and you don’t whine. Ever. If you’re caught out own up immediately and take your punishment that way things blow over a lot quicker.

“Court martial sir” I replied unable to keep the sadness out of my voice, “reduced to the ranks and probably an unaccompanied posting to the rocket range on the Outer Hebrides.”

“You reckon you deserve that?” he asked his voice casual once more.

“Yes sir”

“So does every golf playing officer on my base sergeant most of ‘em want to lynch you.” He paused “Well I don’t agree with ‘em son.” I was shocked to the core I expected him to be sending for a military escort to jail me. “How long have you been a sergeant?” he asked.

“Six months sir”

Waving the route instructions the general asked “May I keep these?”

Again I was shocked “Certainly sir.”

He folded the papers carefully and slipped them into the inside pocket of his overcoat.
As we walked slowly back to the mess he smiled at me “You wanna know why I let you off the hook sergeant?” he asked in an avuncular way.

“Er, yes sir, please sir” I said feeling very wary and at a loss understand his attitude.

“Well son you were given a job that clearly wasn’t yours and, as far as I can see, you did it pretty well leading your regiment for more than sixty miles until things went wrong and you were kinda left out on a limb. OK so you made a bad call but then you took full responsibility for your mistake. As for hiding these papers,” he tapped his pocket conspiratorially; hell I’d have done the same in your position.”

I could hardly believe what he was saying I reckon if he’d been a British general my feet wouldn’t have touched. Burning with curiosity but not wanting to push my luck either I coughed nervously before saying “may I ask why you want those papers sir?”

He gave a short snorting laugh “I used to lecture on the importance of accurate military communications” he said “It’s a kinda hobby horse of mine. I’m going to frame these and keep ‘em in my office as a reminder to always be impeccable with my communications.”

He then looked stern again as we approached nearer the mess “I’ve still got around fifty thousand dollars worth of damage I gotta fix though.”

We stopped again about ten yards from the mess I could see various officers casting surreptitious glances through the windows at us anxious to know result of this interview.

“When I was driving up Sergeant I swear I saw your lips moving were you praying or something?”

“Yes sir, twenty third psalm sir.”

“Oh yeah” he said smiling “I used that one a lot in the Korean war, works pretty good don’t it?”

Next morning my battery commander sent for me. “Sergeant Gilhooly” he said a puzzled tone in his voice “I don’t know what you said to general Stirrup but he seems to be most impressed with you, he’s invited all the officers over for drinks this evening. How on earth did you did you manage to get on such good terms with a very senior officer in so short a time?

I grinned at him happily. “We sing the same psalms sir.”