I'd like to post this little episode that shows how much of a loss people like this are to a unit. My room was next to the bar in the singlies block, handy when I was the barman and even handier when I wanted (needed) a drink. Like all bar opening times, they are never open long enough to satisfy your thirst and there was always the temptation to carry on the proceedings somewhere else and my room was nearest. The portability of the yellow handbag made it both extremely common for all night sessions or for currency to pay for those essential homers that were part of army life. Anticipating a session, it was probably a Sunday and things always came to head on Sundays, I had an ample stock of handbags and most visitors usually brought a contribution as well. There was a good mix in the singlies block and all cap badges drank together even a chef who was a Luton supporter and me coming from Watford and those were the days when Scotland could field a football team that could beat England. So another night in the bar came to a close and my room was filled with bodies and handbags though I think the handbags had it on numbers. The clock ticked and the beer flowed and some drifted off and I think it was just myself and one other who just had to be B** H***s. Do you try to sleep or can you just shower and go to work. I think the drink got the better of me and I drifted off just as B** said that he would fix everything. I trusted him and I was too tired and pissed to care. I woke up as two hunky medics tried to walk me up and down the corridor. I didn't understand, it had only been Herforder nothing stronger but then they asked me about the pills. Even in my state I noticed that the floor in my room had been a bit crunchy (unintentional pun) but wasn't yet capabable of reasonable thought. What my good mate B** had done was found some tablets and scattered them round my room and phoned up the med centre saying I had attempted suicide. I was still being walked up and down the corridor and wasn't really in any state to protest as I was then whisked off to the med centre. A doctor or the useless barstewards that the army have stood there with rather a long length of hose and a rather large amount of fluids. Finally I could add two and two together and make four and told the MO what had obviously happened. He didn't pump me out but it was close but he said he could be contacting my OC. I can't remember exactly what happened when I got back to the unit as I was in no state to work but I don't remember being charged and nor was B**. I might have got an extra but it was a lucky escape. I remember saying to B** that maybe he should not try to help me out again but he had meant well and I had to see the funny side of it. What I remember is that he did look out for me, he failed miserably but it was all done with the best intentions. It was a sad loss when he died in the car crash and I lost two good friends that day.