ALL ASHORE THAT'S GOING ASHORE

We'd been messed about. Just like the Grand Old Duke of York's troops. Up the Stairs down the stairs, and back round to start again. Tonight it was a bit different though, after this practice we weren't going back to our cabins. We were assembling in the forward lounge for a final briefing. A church service of sorts was also being held by  the padre, David Cooper. It totally voluntary attendance of course.

I went because I had only got around to paying him the £20.00 that I owed him. It was for conducting my wedding service at the Garrison church in Aldershot. They'd given me 4 hours off to get married. We were on, like a;"we should have sailed yesterday type notice to move". So many farewell parties had taken place that we were all seriously overdrawn at the banks. If we didn't sail now we were all in deep shit in trying to pay back the money. prior to sailing.When it came to paying for the service and organist I was skint. So the padre kindly offered to pay. It didn't pay to be on the wrong side of the line in circumstances such as these.

The forward lounge had a tinge of religion attached to it from the 'Cruise South' already. We must have sat in it watching Monty Python's the 'Life of Brian', God only knows how many times. The song 'You've got to look on the Bright side of Life' had become a bit if a theme tune for the whole adventure.

It was however quite pleasant to see how many people had found religion in the last few hours before the dawn, on the 21 of May. A couple of mumbled verses of To Be A Pilgrim were duly sung, and Padre Cooper gave us the good word. Then it was all down to us.

We were all professional soldiers trained to an extremely high standard. Supremely confident in our own abilities, to cope with any given situation. With an absolute faith  in our comrades, that they would be there with us, shoulder to shoulder. It was the politicians we couldn't trust. It didn't hurt to have an extra bit of air cover from really high up, if the shit hit the fan. Any way, we all knew we'd be okay. Cause 'God was Airborne' too.

I'd actually missed the only practice run at filling the LCU's. That had taken place several days before at ascension island. It had been a bit too hot and bright. I'd been suffering from a hangover at the time. I had managed to find some excuse to get out of the practice. Quite lucky really, because they had ended going round and round the bay for a couple of hours. A couple of the blokes had managed to top up their tans and the rest got heat Stroke. This was due to the Norland having to change its position at anchorage, to cross deck supplies ( more beer I think), so they weren’t able to come along side and get back on board.

It had been a trip round the bay in reality. Shorts, pt vests, sunshades and life jackets. There only being twenty life jackets, hence only twenty people on each trip. It was a real eye opener when it finally happened for real. No life jackets, total darkness and an attempt at the fucking world record for filling an LCU with overladen  troops. It took hours.I honestly can't remember if it was cold that morning or not.It was crisp, but I never felt the cold.

Fortunately we didn't have to climb down any scramble nets or such like. It would have probably been a physical impossibility ,I reckon anyway. No. It was simply what you might say,' A blind leap of faith' into the darkness. Into what you hoped would be the arms of someone to help drag you across the side of the LCU. To safety. Well what was considered the relative safety of the bobbing cork like craft. (It was better than drowning of course). Nobody wanted to end up in the cold embrace of the South Atlantic, and Davey Jones locker.

There was only one unfortunate who didn't quite make it across the yawning gap. He'd managed to break his pelvis with a miss-timed jump.This  had caused him to end up in between the Norland and the LCU. Luckily they managed to grab him and haul him back on board the Norland.Before he slipped further and sank

When it was apparent that they couldn't get any more in the LCU we set sail in a circular course until they managed to fill the other two LCU's. Then it was off to the landing site of Bluebeach 2, and at that time who knew what. We did have one well wisher who waved us 'Bon Voyage'. Wendy, had decided to say good by to us all and wish us luck.

The total darkness of the South Atlantic was split by a ray of light, from the upper decks of the Norland when Wendy opened one of the deck doors. It was like a search light. We could actually hear him calling 'Bye boys' in the eerie silence above the LCU's engine. Over a hundred voices in unison told him to “ shut the fucking door”. And he did.

The plan was that the SBS would secure the landing site and if it was all clear they would show a green light. If a red light was seen then it was a hot beach and the enemy were waiting for us. No lights and it probably meant we were in the wrong place.

Squashed in like we were, face stuck in the Bergen of the man in front. I had visions of the film 'The longest Day'. High cliff faces, men being machine gunned and shelled while trying to wade ashore. They didn't have the heavy bergans that we had however. They also had forgot to tell us what the beach would be like. We could hear the hooligans (SAS) on Fanning Head as we passed in the dark waters below.

I don't know how long it took. Time wasn't a factor. We did however fail to find any lights on the first two attempts to beach. It being decided after each abortive attempt that we were in the wrong place. On the third try, we managed to reach a decision in the wheel house that this was it. With the engine putt putting away the LCU crunched and scrapped it's way towards the rocky beach.

The closer we got, the more the tension increased in the middle and rear section of the LCU . This was due to not being able to see anything except the bloke in front of you .Or rather his Bergen. Messages were passed from man to man, froward and back again in whispered tones.

Can you see a light?
No.
Can you see the beach? .
No.
Can you see any thing?
No. Some fuckers put a big metal ramp where the window should be, came the
final witty reply.
They decided to drop the ramp anyway.

There came the cry 'Ramp down troops out'. This was it, the retaking of the islands. The invasion was on. Nothing happened. It was repeated. Still nothing happened. Nobody moved. One of the crew of the LCU scrambled along the side of the craft to the front and the ramp.

What's up, whispered the tentative voice of the Marine.
Have you seen how deep the fucking water is, take us in a bit closer; came
the reply.
Get out.
Fuck Off.
The CSM intervened, he started shouting,
Go! Go! Go!
Men started to move. The invasion was back on again.

Soon it was my turn. After being half way down the LCU. It had meant that with the others getting off, it had risen in the water , just a little bit. Though enough for me to step off the end of the ramp and into the chin deep , ball breaking icy waters of the South Atlantic. I was relatively lucky, I'm 6'2" .The bloke in front had been about 5'6". All I saw was a helmet bobbing towards the shore in front of me.

We sloshed ashore across a small two-foot wide pebble beach. Then climbed the foot high bank onto dry soil. Everybody was milling about. There appeared to be no enemy positions or any sign in fact, that they were even there. The invasion stopped for a moment yet again.

Everybody needed a piss.

Once that had been sorted we set about finding where everybody was and formed up in our respective groups. Two of the officer's appeared to be arguing with a couple of nuns. You could see the out lines of figures in black with a light or white ring around the face. Similar to the nun's habit. I'm glad I never said hello sister, cause it was the SBS blokes. Apparently they weren't very happy, because they weren't expecting us for another two nights yet. We offered to go home again. They didn't laugh.

We moved off along the coastline following a narrow path. Heading towards our second objective , Sussex Mountains. Most of us would never feel that we had dried out at any stage after that first soaking. Especially our boots and feet.

Luckily;
Paratroopers don’t die,
They go to hell and regroup.