On leave and out of control.

One of the most memorable weekends that I brought an army mate home to my Dads house for the weekend happened in what I now think of as a totally shocking event. I must remind myself sometimes when I am out for a drink today what I was like then in the 80`s when I was in my 20`s, when I am pissed off with the youth of today being boisterous and roudy, because the way I was behaving in those days was totally unacceptable. My mate Stan came home with me on the Friday night, it was getting on when we arrived in Dalton from Kirton Lindsey, so we sank a dozen or so pints and then crashed out at my Mam & Dads after watching Apocalypse Now or The Deer Hunter or some other violent War movie. The next days drinking was to be the main event. We started off drinking around noon after my Dad had bollocked us about the noise the night before. Making our way through the twenty or so pubs in the town, we became louder and more aggressive as we went on, ending with us being thrown out of one or two for drunkenness, or standing on top of pool tables and smashing beer glasses, we were way out of order and could not see the difference between the block and civvie street. We had just a couple or minor skirmishes with the locals, but wisely so most of them gave us a wide birth. Around about teatime we decided to get some food and went to a Chinese restaurant, I’m surprised they gave us a table the state we were in. Ordering more booze we awaited our food, Stan thought it was a good idea to start to eat the tropical fish from the aquarium, pulling the top off the tank and scooping them out getting everywhere wet in the process. The staff were extremely lenient and made Stan go and sit down, we continued to polish of a bottle of Saki. Some families had decided that they had seen enough and started to leave. Eventually they brought our food and we started to throw it down our necks, Stan then threw his guts up in to his plate of food including the half digested tropical fish and continued to eat it, this was enough to clear the restaurant. Stan topped it all off by urinating under the table, that was enough for the Chinese and they rightly so through us both out. Leaving the Chinese restaurant we went back on the piss in the nearest pub, after a few more pints we stated to get hungry again and decided as it was kicking out time to go to the local chippy, a place that was full of drunks, not a good idea really. There was a bit of a queue as most drunks went for a chippy supper in those days. I eventually got to the front of the queue and ordered my scoff, which was an amazing feat as I could hardly stand up I was that paralytic, Stan was a few people back when I heard it all kick off, some lad had thrown a hot chip at Stan and it hit him on the side of the head, Stan chased him down a back street and gave him a good kicking resulting in the lad suffering a broken arm, by the time I got outside with my chips it was all over, as most fights only last a few minuets. I gave Stan some of my chips and we started to walk home. We walked through some fields and sat down by an old fence lying on the grass staring up into the sky talking shit never even mentioning the ruck that had just occurred. Due to the huge amount of booze we fell asleep, which believe it or not accounts for a few squaddies each year who die of hypothermia. When I came around a few hours later Stan had gone, I just assumed he had gone back to my Dads and I staggered home as well. For some reason Stan had gone back into town I don’t know why, perhaps he did not know where he was, perhaps he wanted to continue the fight, but for whatever reason, the injured lad had called the police and Stan was arrested and taken to Barrow police station, even more bizarre whilst the police van was taking Stan to jail it crashed and hit a tree on Abbey road, luckily the copper and Stan were not injured, at this time I was oblivious to everything and snoring in a drunken stupor back at my Dads.
Stan had to come back up to Barrow in a month’s time to appear before a magistrate, at this point in Stan’s army career he was awaiting word on a transfer to the Parachute Regt, the Judge cut him some slack and he got a few hundred pound fine. The judge realised that if you break the law in Civvie Street you get done twice once by the civvies and once by the army, so Stan had a lot of extra guard duties to perform in Kirton which is just as well as he had no money to go out on the piss that caused it all in the first place.
Stan told me the coppers in Barrow treated him very well as one of them was ex Scots Guards and he was asking him about the Falklands when he brought him his breakfast, once again nobody made the connection between his behaviour and his military service.
After this my Dad banned me from ever bringing any of my mates home to his house again, which I suppose you can’t blame him. From then on if I brought any lads home we stayed at a local pub in Dalton called the Red Lion, as I knew the lad who had it so I wasn’t barred.

(RG) This was also edited from Watching Men Burn. We were totally out of control and our Senoir Officers didnt pick up on it. I wonder if 20 lashes on my bare arse in the town square would have sorted me out?


© Mack (RG) The thoughts of a Falklands War Veteran.