Saturday, April 14, 2007
The phone rang and afterwards there was a long silence. Only marching soldiers are heard outside an open window. A fresh breeze blows the grey curtain away from its resting place on the green ledge.
Chief Commander Roberts instructs his fellow sergeants to stand to attention. "Welcome to the new world men, future generations will thank us when all is said and done, but remember this; tell them only the good things, the career prospects, the life of action, helping of poor and underprivileged refugees like, not killing them or anything nor manipulating their plight for queen and country and OKay, got that, eh Mr Jones? (Shouting in Jones’s ear) Have you got that Mr Jones I say (eyeing him closely, faces nearly touching). Superintendent Jones here, he is the company historian, isn’t you Mr Jones, “Yes Sir” who is employed to sort out everything out nice and tidily isn’t he, Mr Jones, heh. “Yes sir.” (Turning at last towards the lined up men, standing to attention) Go give it your best boys. We are outmoded. We are cannon fodder. When I die I will just be replaced by another? We will be heroes when we get it, typical of the M.O.D. that one, all their spin in’ it? Our helmets are made of cardboard and tin, our armoured vehicles fitted out with not enough protection for all the dangerous situations that they place us in. Yet men, we shall never complain, those are orders, but just remember, you've signed up for five years. Just thought I’d chuck that last one in to cheer the guys up, heh. Right, Fall out.