Never Volunteer?

The old adage “never volunteer” is a load of old hoop produce, or at least used to be. I used to volunteer for anything and everything. Okay, so sometimes I ended up doing shitty jobs, but more often than not there were unexpected experiences and opportunities that made my time in green much more varied and interesting. The trick was to do the shitty job with a decent attitude, express polite interest in things around you and ask. On many occasions doors would open and invites would be made.

It got to the point where my troop staffy would say “right, we need two volun…” only to momentarily pause and lovingly scream “put your hand down, you little Scouse twat!” Then the troop Sgt, never one to be left out of the fun for long would, quick as a flash, sum up the situation and gush “yeah, fuck off and die”. Oh, how I basked in the welcome spotlight of their fleeting attention.

What are your experiences of volunteering?
What are my experiences? Hey, thanks for asking!

I volunteered for and spent a happy couple of weeks with the Royal Naval Reserve many moons ago. Me and my oppo were tasked as ship’s marksmen (!) and search bods aboard a little converted minesweeper bobbing up and down in the seas around NI. The rest of the crew consisted of two or three regular Navy officers, a couple of sneaky blokes in civvies, about 20 RNR on their annual camp and an ancient Cpl and his sniffer dog.

Our task was to intercept commercial shipping entering UK waters, check their paperwork and carry out searches. We typically boarded and searched about one vessel a day and it was usually all rather friendly if a little boring. I was fascinated by the variety of civvie jobs that the RNR blokes had, especially one chap who was a very well-read librarian. Our formal duties were few and so me and my oppo spent our time getting shots at “driving the boat” and trying to convince the RNR that soldiers weren’t actually the boorish brutes they had us down for.

After about a week of this we finally had a little success. The dog had found a stash of cannabis on a Greek ship. Nothing major, and probably just one of the sailors making a little extra cash whenever they docked. Still, it was something, and that evening we had a little celebration with about 15 of us crammed into one of the little, erm, “rooms” below deck. Beers were cracked open and congratulations made.

We hadn’t long started when the Cpl looked at his dog and said “oo! I haven’t given ‘im his reward. I always reward ‘im when ‘e finds somefink”. At this point he started masturbating his best friend while saying ”[wank wank wank] oo… ‘e fookin’ loves this, ‘e does. [wank wank] Look at ‘is fookin’ face, all fookin’ scrunched up and pantin’. [wank wank] ‘e fookin’ loves it [wank wank wank]”.

Me and my oppo, both veterans of Sgt H’s endex BBQ and film nights, where his much admired collection of German bestiality films were always the highlight, just shrugged and went to carry on with the beer and chit-chat. Then we noticed the silence and looks of disbelief and horror on the faces of our new RNR friends. Some of them were literally wide-eyed and open mouthed at the sight and occasional quiet but still audible “chicky chicky” sounds coming from the vigorous but well deserved lipstick chugging that was taking place.

All too soon it was over. The dog laid down for a nap and the three squaddies carried on supping, but very quickly alone. The librarian avoided me for the rest of the trip. I never did find out why.

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