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As I was walking down the road A feeling fine and larky-oh A recruit'en sergeant came up-a-ta me Says he, you'd look fine in khaki-oh For the King he is in need of men Come read this proclamation-oh A life in Flanders for you then Would be a fine vacation-oh
That may be so says I to him But tella me sergeant dearie-oh If I had a pack stuck upon me back Would I look fine and cheerie-oh For they'd have you train and drill until They had you one of the Frenchies-oh It may be warm in Flanders But it's draughty in the trenches-oh
The sergeant smiled and winked his eye His smile was most provoking-oh He twiddled and twirled his wee mustache Says he, I know you're only joking-oh For the sandbags are so warm and high The wind you won't feel blowing-oh Well I winked at a cailin passing by Says I, what if it's snowing-oh
Come rain or hail or wind or snow I'm not going out to Flanders-oh There's fighting in Dublin to be done Let your sergeants and your commanders go Let Englishmen fight English wars It's nearly time they started-oh I saluted the sergeant a very good night And there and then we parted-oh
Back in the mid-eighties I took 30 days leave before I transferred from the 82nd Airborne Division to John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and Schools Special Forces Qualification Course. I had no idea what to do on leave but seeing a movie, "The Eye of The Needle" filmed in Britain prompted me to take an Airforce transport to RAF Lakenheath and tour Britain with a backpack.
I first went to Aldershot and partied with some Paras, being an American para cousin myself. I almost got into a brawl that I didn't really understand and the closest I came to being called a Feinian Bastard as I am Catholic and I really didn't understand how or why that question came up in conversation.
It came up from a Para from Northern Ireland, who then asked me if I was a member of NORAID. I replied, in soldier bravado, "Hell no, those are Air Force weenies". He then got incensed.
The problem came from my misunderstanding of his accent; I thought he meant NORAD, the Air Force missile tracking unit under Colorado Mountain that tracks missile launches from the old Soviet Union, an air-conditioned office job.
Luckily, the situation was diffused by an English Para who went on about hospitality and foreigners.
The rest of the leave was most memorable. I ended up as a guest at the Prince Charles Barracks in Aberdeen Scotland courtesy of the 22nd Para (Territorial) through a RSM in Aldershot. All I had to pay for was booze and food, they put me up. Which was a good thing because my booze bill pretty much broke my savings, I mean, after all, I WAS in the pubs with Paras. "Schiller sprach zu Goethe, Steck in dem Arsch die Flöte! Goethe sagte zu Schiller, Mein Arsch ist kein Triller!"
We didn't win. The SAS team was already at the end point with a cooking fire and tea brewing and sarcastically ask us why we were not faster and that they had tea ready for us. The Sandhurst cadets were still 4 hours behind us, but you have to give them credit for trying.
The tea was refreshing, but I still called the SAS guys out for being assholes about it "Schiller sprach zu Goethe, Steck in dem Arsch die Flöte! Goethe sagte zu Schiller, Mein Arsch ist kein Triller!"
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