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Bits and pieces, out of date
Jul. 3rd, 2006 07:10 amIn a Starbuck's, in Inverness, on the "R&R Day" built into the schedule.
I may not get any more internet until a week from now.
________________________________________________________________________________
Cameron Barracks, Inverness Scotland 26 June, 2006
Australia is playing Italy on the telly in the all-ranks club.
My trip was eventful, in a quiet sort of way. Everyone leaving LAX on Friday last seemed to be leaving via United. There were people who missed their 0800 and this after making certain to arrive more than two hours before that. I only made it because I knew I could use the international kiosks to check in, this despite having a, technically, domestic, flight.
That technical aspect is part of what made for the adventures. I couldn’t check my luggage through to Heathrow, but had to collect it and check in again at Dulles. Happily MSG Figgers was there to hand me my itinerary, and jump me to the head of the line for checking bags. If he’d not been there, two hours would not have been enough.
Heathrow was the same, reclaim my bags, get a ticket and head to the plane.
Customs in London is non-existent. If I’d wanted to declare something I’d have had to hunt down someone to tell. More interesting is that I was able, without any ID, to claim both my ticket, and my companion's, merely by entering the booking number into a machine. The ticket, thus acquired was enough to let us check our bags, and board the plane. Never did anyone demand any ID.
From Edinburgh we were driven along the A9, and then the A880 (I think) to Inverness, via the north side of Loch Ness. Ben Nevis was visible in the mist, there were red-deer at the side of the road, random rills of water, and a pleasant lunch in some small town pub. The Territorial Army saw fit to provide money for the latter. I had a steak pie, some veggies, chips and the ale recommended by the publican.
Got to Cameron Barracks, drew my billet, got a bit to eat in the mess, was assigned to my Platoon (3Plt, 3(V)MI), was bought a couple of pints, had a meeting with the platoon to get our briefing and then socialised some, before heading to bed, after some 40 hours of being awake.
Yesterday was training on the SA-80A2 rifle, which apart from it’s being a bullpup, and oddly designed in terms of manipulating the action (the drill is all left-handed, but the rifle is right-handed in design, i.e it cannot be fired other than in the manner of a right handed shooter. The charging lever, in particular, needs to be on the left side, because reaching across the rifle to put a round in battery is akward, at best, and lots of people, not just me, have cuts and scars on the fingers of the left hand from doing it), is basically an M-16 inside, if the M-16 had been designed by me. It has a gas piston, and guide rails, for the bolt carrier, which ought to improve accuracy.
Today was spent on a Staff Tour of Cullodden, the last battle in the creation of Great Britain, the last stand/hope of the Highland way of life, the death rattle of the clans and the last pitched battle fought on English soil.
We got a special speech from the museum staff, were allowed to handle an 1842 Land-Pattern Musket (the famed Brown Bess) and bayonet, as well as a dirk, targe and Scottish longsword.
The first was as heavy as expected, though I’d not thought the bayonet would add as much apparent weight as it did; moment arm is a bitch.
The dirk’s length makes more sense when one sees it as part of a weapon system with the targe. It’s long enough, just, to stick out enough to be a threat to someone in front of the wielder. The longsword was as light as I expected, and handled better. The guard, which is deep, allows more wrist motion than it looks as though it would.
It happens that Tony Pollard, a forensic anthropologist, and the creator/consultant of “Two Men in a Trench") is working on the battlefield right now and after the major who was leading the Staff Tour for us was done we met with him and he told us more.
It seems the appreciation of the battle has been a tad off, and it more happened in the south than is presently accepted, and understanding of the Jacobite efforts as well. Much common wisdom is that they never had a chance, and were pitting swords and élan against drill and firepower. But they were more drilled than believed, and were taking advantage of the terrain, to play to their strengths. The lack of sleep, food, troops (they were missing about half of those they had in the area) as well as the Duke of Cumberland (in the only battle he ever won) not playing into the Highlander’s strengths and some problems with command and control on the part of Charlie made the difference, but there were a couple of points at which the battle might have turned the other way.
The highlight of the day was the schilling. One of the guys working the area found an enlistment shilling. Soldiers who joined the British Army “took the schilling” and it was an actual coin, many of them kept them for luck. This one was a William schilling, and had been worn flat on the obverse, from uncounted hours of worry-stone like rubbing.
When I got to handle it, it had been out of the ground, for the first time in 260 years, for less than an hour. It probably belonged to one of the, less than a hundred, British dead of the battle.
Being late we decided not to go to Loch Ness, and instead went to Ft. George, which was built to prevent another rising being supplied from abroad.
The feel here is much like that of my unit. I am an honored guest, so last night, at The Fluke I didn’t let them buy me more than a couple of whiskys.
________________________________________________________________________________
Break of a week
________________________________________________________________________________
I am exhausted. The British Army requires a week of "Adventure" training every year. Lots of TA units try to make that a part of the Annual Camp. I've been kayaking, which they call canoeing (I was dunked twice, once because Capt. Duarte (a Commonwealth Soldier, from Gibralter) shoved me over, thinking he was just pushing me away from the dog's toy {a squeaky shark, named Cyril}. That one was half-scary. I was undewater, trying not to lose my glasses, had resisted being rolled; and so was short of breath when I went under, and trying to do an unfamiliar drill. Got out, got a breath [inhaling some water] worked to shore, emptied the kayak, and was back out. The second was when Lance Corporal Chan, Commonwealth, from Hong Kong, via Malaysia hit me amidships while I was turning. I turned all right, turtle. That one was almost trivial. Took a breath as I rolled past stable, yanked the skirt off the coaming, pushed into the water, and off to shore).
After lunch (a sack lunch, properly called a "haversack ration" and referred to as a "horrorbag": sandwich, chocolate bar, biscuit of some sort, fruit, yogurt, drink. Not a whole lot of food (the sandwiches, in particular, seem to be more bread than filling) it was bouldering, rock-climbing and belay-work. Rappelling for those of a mind. I thought about it (I like rappelling) but I have a dodgy wrist (Sprained it while we were moving) so I forwent that.
After that was two days on the ranges. Known distance and pop-ups on the first day, and position training on the second. All was wrapped up with 120 rounds fired at random targets from 25-300 meters, the last magazine of 30 we were allowed, even encouraged, to snap off "double-taps" to suppress the target/improve the odds of hitting. Mostly it was to build confidence in the weapon's rapid return to place. I hit 54 of 120. This was a bit better than the Plt. Average (about 40) but not as good as I would expect with my rifle at home (practice and familarity help). Capt. Duarte showed any doubters that the rifle is capable of good accuracy with a 72.
3 Plt., as presently configured is about 15 strong (it's not clear, because some have been detailed to other tasks, such as guard, during the week) with myself, and two Canadians, the Canadians (one of whom was infantry, before he moved to Intel, of some sort) did about as well as I did.
The next day it was to the Norwegian Lodge, in Aviemore. It's a nice place, full-sized kitchen, three, or four, sets of dorm style barracks rooms, and a common area. Some of the Free Norwegian Forces in WW2 used the site for training. We hiked up to Craiggowrie. Because I was feeling less than completely hale (slight strain in my feet), I chose the "less challenging" walk. We headed up to Ryvoan Bothy, up to Cain Gorm, across the ridge to Craigowrie and back down to the lodge.
Corporal Molenda (Canada) and I were tasked with plotting the route plan, and estimating time and distance. It was about 8 km. The middle bit, from the bothy to Cairngorm was a gain of 450 meters; hard slogging and I strained my knee. Saw some orchids (common spotted) some huge, black, slugs, various birds, a lake with water of brilliant aquamarine (from disolved copper, leaching out of the rocks) a huge spread of rolling land; revealing the effects of glaciation to all who had eyes to see) and a lot of clouds, wind and minor rain.
I was also set up. I was given the middle leg to lead (and lead it was, I could have called it all off and sent us down any of several, "escape routes", or at least I was led to believe that, and I was allowed to lead on a parallel course for a bit (there was a better path, hidden a few meters away in the moss and heather). We got to a hill top and Lance Corporal Fox (Scotland somewhere) asked me where we were. I took a look, started to point to Craiggowrie, and then said,, "no, we've not crossed enough saddles. "We're here," and pointed to a small, unnamed, hilltop.
She said I was the first person to not screw that up.
The other group, they got to practice limited visibilty land navigation. Where we were wet, and windblown, they were socked in, and soaked. Cpl. Martin (Canada) said the visibilty was as low as 100 meters, and they were using pace count and compass to keep on track.
We had a barbeque, and the next day was a walk around Loch an Eilan, as well as mountain biking. I chose to walk, since photos would be hard from a mountain bike. It was lovely. More orchids, birds, slugs, flowers, water, trees and conversation.
Yesterday was an interbatallion contest. Shooting (two position. One from the standing, one from the kneeling, and then the target was removed. Repeat five times). Navigation, and map reading with observation. We were given a grid, a map, and told to pay attention to a video. We were told the direction the car was facing, and then had to track it on the map, while paying attention to the visible surroundings.
An obstacle course, team, some driving, and repair (Cpl. Molenda and changed the tyre of a Land Rover, I was the only person who knew how to use a bottle jack, apparently in the entire Bn), some imagery related work, and some semaphore. The last was silly. I got some help from, of all people, the director of Int Corps, who shared horrorbags with us. He thought they were ok, but the sandwiches were a trifle thin.
We did have a visit from the head of the Territorial Army, the Duke of Westminster. I was put in front, with some Canadians, and he stopped, of all the people in the room (mostly, I suspect because my uniform stands out more, being of different cut, as well as pattern) and asked me a few questions, for which I was ribbed, as it "slowed up" the rest of us getting to eat at the buffet.
Tomorrow is land-navigation, over ground, and Weds. the exercise starts. Friday I head to London for the afternoon/evening, and Saturday morning I head home, probably to then head to Ukraine, but some things are now up in the air.
I may not get any more internet until a week from now.
________________________________________________________________________________
Cameron Barracks, Inverness Scotland 26 June, 2006
Australia is playing Italy on the telly in the all-ranks club.
My trip was eventful, in a quiet sort of way. Everyone leaving LAX on Friday last seemed to be leaving via United. There were people who missed their 0800 and this after making certain to arrive more than two hours before that. I only made it because I knew I could use the international kiosks to check in, this despite having a, technically, domestic, flight.
That technical aspect is part of what made for the adventures. I couldn’t check my luggage through to Heathrow, but had to collect it and check in again at Dulles. Happily MSG Figgers was there to hand me my itinerary, and jump me to the head of the line for checking bags. If he’d not been there, two hours would not have been enough.
Heathrow was the same, reclaim my bags, get a ticket and head to the plane.
Customs in London is non-existent. If I’d wanted to declare something I’d have had to hunt down someone to tell. More interesting is that I was able, without any ID, to claim both my ticket, and my companion's, merely by entering the booking number into a machine. The ticket, thus acquired was enough to let us check our bags, and board the plane. Never did anyone demand any ID.
From Edinburgh we were driven along the A9, and then the A880 (I think) to Inverness, via the north side of Loch Ness. Ben Nevis was visible in the mist, there were red-deer at the side of the road, random rills of water, and a pleasant lunch in some small town pub. The Territorial Army saw fit to provide money for the latter. I had a steak pie, some veggies, chips and the ale recommended by the publican.
Got to Cameron Barracks, drew my billet, got a bit to eat in the mess, was assigned to my Platoon (3Plt, 3(V)MI), was bought a couple of pints, had a meeting with the platoon to get our briefing and then socialised some, before heading to bed, after some 40 hours of being awake.
Yesterday was training on the SA-80A2 rifle, which apart from it’s being a bullpup, and oddly designed in terms of manipulating the action (the drill is all left-handed, but the rifle is right-handed in design, i.e it cannot be fired other than in the manner of a right handed shooter. The charging lever, in particular, needs to be on the left side, because reaching across the rifle to put a round in battery is akward, at best, and lots of people, not just me, have cuts and scars on the fingers of the left hand from doing it), is basically an M-16 inside, if the M-16 had been designed by me. It has a gas piston, and guide rails, for the bolt carrier, which ought to improve accuracy.
Today was spent on a Staff Tour of Cullodden, the last battle in the creation of Great Britain, the last stand/hope of the Highland way of life, the death rattle of the clans and the last pitched battle fought on English soil.
We got a special speech from the museum staff, were allowed to handle an 1842 Land-Pattern Musket (the famed Brown Bess) and bayonet, as well as a dirk, targe and Scottish longsword.
The first was as heavy as expected, though I’d not thought the bayonet would add as much apparent weight as it did; moment arm is a bitch.
The dirk’s length makes more sense when one sees it as part of a weapon system with the targe. It’s long enough, just, to stick out enough to be a threat to someone in front of the wielder. The longsword was as light as I expected, and handled better. The guard, which is deep, allows more wrist motion than it looks as though it would.
It happens that Tony Pollard, a forensic anthropologist, and the creator/consultant of “Two Men in a Trench") is working on the battlefield right now and after the major who was leading the Staff Tour for us was done we met with him and he told us more.
It seems the appreciation of the battle has been a tad off, and it more happened in the south than is presently accepted, and understanding of the Jacobite efforts as well. Much common wisdom is that they never had a chance, and were pitting swords and élan against drill and firepower. But they were more drilled than believed, and were taking advantage of the terrain, to play to their strengths. The lack of sleep, food, troops (they were missing about half of those they had in the area) as well as the Duke of Cumberland (in the only battle he ever won) not playing into the Highlander’s strengths and some problems with command and control on the part of Charlie made the difference, but there were a couple of points at which the battle might have turned the other way.
The highlight of the day was the schilling. One of the guys working the area found an enlistment shilling. Soldiers who joined the British Army “took the schilling” and it was an actual coin, many of them kept them for luck. This one was a William schilling, and had been worn flat on the obverse, from uncounted hours of worry-stone like rubbing.
When I got to handle it, it had been out of the ground, for the first time in 260 years, for less than an hour. It probably belonged to one of the, less than a hundred, British dead of the battle.
Being late we decided not to go to Loch Ness, and instead went to Ft. George, which was built to prevent another rising being supplied from abroad.
The feel here is much like that of my unit. I am an honored guest, so last night, at The Fluke I didn’t let them buy me more than a couple of whiskys.
________________________________________________________________________________
Break of a week
________________________________________________________________________________
I am exhausted. The British Army requires a week of "Adventure" training every year. Lots of TA units try to make that a part of the Annual Camp. I've been kayaking, which they call canoeing (I was dunked twice, once because Capt. Duarte (a Commonwealth Soldier, from Gibralter) shoved me over, thinking he was just pushing me away from the dog's toy {a squeaky shark, named Cyril}. That one was half-scary. I was undewater, trying not to lose my glasses, had resisted being rolled; and so was short of breath when I went under, and trying to do an unfamiliar drill. Got out, got a breath [inhaling some water] worked to shore, emptied the kayak, and was back out. The second was when Lance Corporal Chan, Commonwealth, from Hong Kong, via Malaysia hit me amidships while I was turning. I turned all right, turtle. That one was almost trivial. Took a breath as I rolled past stable, yanked the skirt off the coaming, pushed into the water, and off to shore).
After lunch (a sack lunch, properly called a "haversack ration" and referred to as a "horrorbag": sandwich, chocolate bar, biscuit of some sort, fruit, yogurt, drink. Not a whole lot of food (the sandwiches, in particular, seem to be more bread than filling) it was bouldering, rock-climbing and belay-work. Rappelling for those of a mind. I thought about it (I like rappelling) but I have a dodgy wrist (Sprained it while we were moving) so I forwent that.
After that was two days on the ranges. Known distance and pop-ups on the first day, and position training on the second. All was wrapped up with 120 rounds fired at random targets from 25-300 meters, the last magazine of 30 we were allowed, even encouraged, to snap off "double-taps" to suppress the target/improve the odds of hitting. Mostly it was to build confidence in the weapon's rapid return to place. I hit 54 of 120. This was a bit better than the Plt. Average (about 40) but not as good as I would expect with my rifle at home (practice and familarity help). Capt. Duarte showed any doubters that the rifle is capable of good accuracy with a 72.
3 Plt., as presently configured is about 15 strong (it's not clear, because some have been detailed to other tasks, such as guard, during the week) with myself, and two Canadians, the Canadians (one of whom was infantry, before he moved to Intel, of some sort) did about as well as I did.
The next day it was to the Norwegian Lodge, in Aviemore. It's a nice place, full-sized kitchen, three, or four, sets of dorm style barracks rooms, and a common area. Some of the Free Norwegian Forces in WW2 used the site for training. We hiked up to Craiggowrie. Because I was feeling less than completely hale (slight strain in my feet), I chose the "less challenging" walk. We headed up to Ryvoan Bothy, up to Cain Gorm, across the ridge to Craigowrie and back down to the lodge.
Corporal Molenda (Canada) and I were tasked with plotting the route plan, and estimating time and distance. It was about 8 km. The middle bit, from the bothy to Cairngorm was a gain of 450 meters; hard slogging and I strained my knee. Saw some orchids (common spotted) some huge, black, slugs, various birds, a lake with water of brilliant aquamarine (from disolved copper, leaching out of the rocks) a huge spread of rolling land; revealing the effects of glaciation to all who had eyes to see) and a lot of clouds, wind and minor rain.
I was also set up. I was given the middle leg to lead (and lead it was, I could have called it all off and sent us down any of several, "escape routes", or at least I was led to believe that, and I was allowed to lead on a parallel course for a bit (there was a better path, hidden a few meters away in the moss and heather). We got to a hill top and Lance Corporal Fox (Scotland somewhere) asked me where we were. I took a look, started to point to Craiggowrie, and then said,, "no, we've not crossed enough saddles. "We're here," and pointed to a small, unnamed, hilltop.
She said I was the first person to not screw that up.
The other group, they got to practice limited visibilty land navigation. Where we were wet, and windblown, they were socked in, and soaked. Cpl. Martin (Canada) said the visibilty was as low as 100 meters, and they were using pace count and compass to keep on track.
We had a barbeque, and the next day was a walk around Loch an Eilan, as well as mountain biking. I chose to walk, since photos would be hard from a mountain bike. It was lovely. More orchids, birds, slugs, flowers, water, trees and conversation.
Yesterday was an interbatallion contest. Shooting (two position. One from the standing, one from the kneeling, and then the target was removed. Repeat five times). Navigation, and map reading with observation. We were given a grid, a map, and told to pay attention to a video. We were told the direction the car was facing, and then had to track it on the map, while paying attention to the visible surroundings.
An obstacle course, team, some driving, and repair (Cpl. Molenda and changed the tyre of a Land Rover, I was the only person who knew how to use a bottle jack, apparently in the entire Bn), some imagery related work, and some semaphore. The last was silly. I got some help from, of all people, the director of Int Corps, who shared horrorbags with us. He thought they were ok, but the sandwiches were a trifle thin.
We did have a visit from the head of the Territorial Army, the Duke of Westminster. I was put in front, with some Canadians, and he stopped, of all the people in the room (mostly, I suspect because my uniform stands out more, being of different cut, as well as pattern) and asked me a few questions, for which I was ribbed, as it "slowed up" the rest of us getting to eat at the buffet.
Tomorrow is land-navigation, over ground, and Weds. the exercise starts. Friday I head to London for the afternoon/evening, and Saturday morning I head home, probably to then head to Ukraine, but some things are now up in the air.
