Terence Cuneo (and his ubiquitous fvcking mouse), if I'm not mistaken.
DaubsWorks Of Art worthy of nothing better than to adorn a two-bob Commando Comic front cover.
Nothing but inky dark rectangles appear on my screen when I clicks dem links.
Are you trying to prove a point about 'Black Mafia', or summink?
I'm strangely unimpressed by this unsolicited advice.If you left-click on the 'Share' link/logo with each picture, and select 'view in another tab', that will get you the pic, and clicking on that, will get you full-size.
We had form for stuff like that.
Procuring weapons became a bit of a sport for us and their guardroom was full of unfortunate soldiers who were locked up for losing them.[:QUOTE]
It was an unwritten but oft vocalised RGJ instruction to take possession of as much hardware and equipment from any other mob and further points awarded for depriving Paras and L.I. of shiny and useful stuff.
Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds
Not far from the truth. Possibly a deja vu moment. Back in '67 we had a Queen's Review at Winchester. Fresh out of training our platoon were held back at Barton Stacey pending the event. On the day I recall her majesty walking a few feet away (I had to look down, she was tiny). Later as we gorged our packed lunch, setting our weapons in nearby stacks, I found that mine was gone. Being a 'nig' I thought, oh well, someone else will hand it in. Amazingly the only bollocking I got was for not picking up another one - the guy who picked up mine was 'caught' as he handed it back to the armory and I believe he got a week's RPs.You can almost see him thinking-
"I can't remember where I've left my gun......"
At this point in time (early May 1971) we were still being told that the IRA had no support, hearts and minds were the objective and 'be nice' was the order of the day. After Bob Bankier was killed (22 May 71) things changed in short order - described at the time as 'the battalion transformed overnight - it grew up that day' - I guess that is how I remember it. Later in the tour I had the dubious honour of lifting non other than 'smokin Joe Frazier' after his car was reported to have broken through a checkpoint. It is not commonly known that Smokin Joe had an alter ego as a cabaret singer. He was visiting NI as part of the Ulster 71 celebrations for which there was a large outdoor event at Stranmillis. A radio message said that his vehicle, a black roller, had broken through a VCP. I did think it may have been a bit upmarket for the IRA, but on the other hand, I had no idea that Joe, smokin or otherwise, was in the province. So, when one of my illustrious grew spotted the vehicle, we cornered it on the Ormeau bridge whereupon I jumped out of the rover, stuck my rifle against the window and politely called "right you feckers, get out of the car". A stream of gigantic black guys got out the car, five I think, and Smokin Joe was the smallest of them. We sent for the RMP who apparantly let him go. In the media report he said that he had gone weak at the knees when the guy pointed his rifle at him..........I almost shat myself when I saw the size of his hands. When I reported the circumstances back to 30 the radio operator couldn't talk for laughing - fecker!Particularly short hair for a 'Jacket I notice.
Terence Cuneo (and his ubiquitous fvcking mouse)
I had a dose, comma for laughter, of Deutches cooking during a grape-picking exercise in the Bernkastel area - watery eggs and uncooked baconish stuff for breakfast at 5am followed by supposedly low alcoholic reisling. If you survived until lunch is was something like black and white tripe complete with sauerkraut. I chucked mine over a low well when no one was looking - the fat mamma pounced immediately with a twinkle in her eye "du must haf enjoyed zee lunch, heir, haf sum more"...................The food in the German cookhouse was very tough. Gopping.