In a gripping and moving account, former ITN correspondent Michael Nicholson, who sailed with the Task Force, recalls the key moments in the retaking of the Falklands.
We pulled away from the Portsmouth quayside in a crazy mix of commotion and ceremony; the forest of Union flags, the brass bands, young mothers and their babes in tears, amply bosomed girlfriends tearing off their bras and throwing them to their men in a sexy final goodbye. And I, watching it all from the poop deck of HMS Hermes, convinced it was all a bit of a sham. I wasn't the only one. A lieutenant-commander standing next to me said: "We will all be creeping back in a few days." Read It Here
`Social Outcast`
Your not wanted here old soldier
Go back to where you came
Your burnt face puts me off my food
You’ve only yourself to blame
My kids keep staring at your face
Keep pointing at your scars
You’ve ruined our day with your injuries
Were not interested in pointless Wars
You should be put into a home
As you only have one arm
Your glass eye makes me feel quite sick
I think the military should disarm
Now drink your beer and leave old man
The soccer is about to start
My bar meal has just arrived
I think Il have treacle tart
Your not wanted here old soldier
Go back to where you came
Your burnt face puts me off my beer
You’ve only yourself to blame.
© Mack (RG) The thoughts of a Falklands War Veteran.
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