ACT 1
I was not athletic in the standard sense of the word. I was fit though and took part in a lot of sporting pursuits. I loved to swim and long distance running. Although I was not much interested in the formal competition of it, more as a way to relieve boredom of a mundane life as a medic, based at an RAF Camp in the UK. This apart from the rare major incident usually meant working with a Station Medical Officer treating hangovers or a dose of the clap. I also enjoyed an adrenaline rush, and whilst stationed at RAF Abingdon took up free fall parachuting and even on occasions did jumps with the RAF Falcons display team. This team was also known as the Big Six, strangely because most of the team was under six-foot high. This in itself made me stand out from the rest of the team. I always liked to take things to the limit, as much as I could. I used a variety of 'chutes.' during the following years from the 'Para Commander' in the mid 1970's to the later ‘Strato Cloud Ram Air Parachute’. Even going to the extreme lengths, of having my own custom 'Chute' made, loosely based upon the 'XL Cloud'. Over the subsequent years I completed more than the 1000 high level jumps. This would have gained me a place in the Falcons Display Team, had I wished it. That said, I was in it for the thrill and not for the job. So I continued to do it just as a sport, whenever time or location would allow. On one of my annual leave breaks I went to the USA and completed an Oxygen assisted free fall from a 'PAC750'. This was from a height of thirty thousand feet. I completed this jump with a lifelong friend Lachlan Henderson, Lachlan, who was known to his friends Lachie. We both grew up together in the Highlands of Scotland, having first met in the Strath of Kildonnan. Both of us boys were from the tiny hamlet of Kinbrace. We even went to school in Kinbrace and later Helmsdale together. We the pair of us enjoyed the same sort of things as boys, swimming, shooting and fishing, whenever the chance would allow. Lachie was a stocky built lad with a shock of curly blonde hair and seemed more Icelandic than Scottish in origin, whilst I with my jet black hair and a slight throwback to some far off distant relative of Indian origin. So I always looked as though I had a great natural suntan. Of all the things we enjoyed most was shooting, not just because of the thrill of actually shooting, but more the excitement of the hunt. As youngsters, we would pretend to be in the real military and the enemy would be a Stag, or perhaps a Hare. We stalked our prey carefully, whilst traversing the Highland mountainsides, then sneaking up on the 'enemy'. Sometimes we would just stalk, and not even bother with the kill. Attempting to get as close to the prey as we could. There was always a keen competition between us as boys. On one occasion we got within three feet of a hind and her fawn. Then we would gently slither down the side of the mountain on our bellies, without even having fired a shot from either of our rifles. I say our as the rifles, they of course belonged to our fathers. Lachie's was a Remington .222, which we used for hares and rabbits. The rifle that I carried was a Mannlicher 30-06, this we used for long range shots on the Red Deer that roamed just about every hill and valley of the Strath. Both of us had managed kill shots at over one thousand yards using standard telescopic sights. The rifles were old bolt action and had been well used. However, they had been well looked after by our parents, and probably our grandparents. Always taking strict turns as to which of us would take the shot. We had the one rule when out shooting. We would never shoot and kill anything, which would not be eaten by our families, or their friends. Unlike the rich folk from the south that came to shoot in the Highlands. We were not trophy hunters. Lachie and I were both keen fishermen. To us this was almost as much fun as shooting. Often we would go fishing in the river Helmsdale, or one of the many tributary burns that would flow into it. We combined this with swimming in the icy cold, but crystal clear water, and would see who would stay under the water the longest. Frequently we would hold large rocks in our arms to prevent us from bobbing up pre-maturely. This competition ran through our school years and then at the age of 18 we joined the Royal Air Force together.
Act 2
Both of us went to RAF Swinderby for our basic training, or as it was called, by those who had already completed it, Square-Bashing. Swinderby was nothing like our homes in the Highlands. We had never seen such a flat and unexciting piece of land before. It was flat as far as the eye could see. It was pretty much, all arable land. However, that said because of our fitness from running up and down mountains, meant that running around the Perry track of the airfield, was really easy for us. The both of us excelled, on the rifle range using the SLR 7.62. To get a two inch grouping at twenty five yards, posed no challenge to either of us. Lachie, when asked to do his grouping shots. Asked the instructor?
"Is it a two inch grouping on a moving, or a still target?"
Then Lachie promptly fired of an entire magazine of twenty rounds into the Centre of the 'soldier' target with all twenty shots confined to a round hole, of somewhat less than two inches. This was Lachie all over; he was always quick of wit, but sometimes too quick with the mouth. This little stunt saw us 'Guarding the Perimeter' of our training camp as the rest of our squad, slept soundly in their beds. After our six weeks of basic training and prior to our ‘Pass out Parade’, we were all given our training awards. We never made best cadets, or most improved, however though, we were awarded our ‘Crossed Rifles’ for perfect shooting. I as a medic would never be allowed to wear them. After the Pass out Parade, all recruits were rewarded with one-week home leave. We went back home in our full dress number one uniforms. We boarded the bus from RAF Swinderby to the historic City of Lincoln, where we caught out train to London Kings Cross. Then from there, we caught the overnight train to Inverness. We had a coffee and a curled up British Rail sandwich for breakfast. Then we caught the train from Inverness to our final destination of Kinbrace. We were met there by our respective Fathers, and taken to our homes. One week later we met up once again to go south but this time it was to be at different destinations, Lachie was off to train with the Regiment, at RAF Catterick. I was off to learn medicine at RAF Halton. It was only at this point that our lives which had been joined for so many years saw us split company. However, we were destined to be reunited some years later. I was by now a Sergeant and was now stationed at the combined USAF/RAF base at RAF Brawdy. Lachie was a Corporal and was stationed at RAF Saint Athens as part of their Ground Defence Force (This was a glorified title for the RAF Regiment or as we called them Rock Apes; A title given to the RAF Regiment for their defence of the Rock of Gibraltar). One day in early spring of that year. I was sent out from RAF Brawdy, along with the Senior Medical Officer. Our instructions were to bring back to base, an injured member of the Special Air Service. The man who had apparently, been injured, in a training exercise on the Brecon Beacons. We flew out from RAF Brawdy in a Sea King Search and Rescue Helicopter from the 202 squadron, which was also stationed at RAF Brawdy. Upon landing the SMO and I were directed to a waiting APC, (Armoured Personnel Carrier) with RAF Roundel painted on its side. We went over and clambered in with our equipment. When the driver turned around it was Lachie.
"Where are we going too, gentlemen? I have another pickup in twenty minutes. They are both far better looking than you two."
His mouth was still that bit quicker than his mind. It would seem that time and punishments had not cured it. The SMO, who I was travelling with, was a Wing Commander and whilst laid back, with his own lads at the Medical Centre, was in no mood to put up with Lachie's irreverent quips.
"That will be, I will take you to the patient SIR, or I will have those stripes. Now get a damn move on Corporal" replied my boss.
Lachie did not bother with a reply but shifted the APC into drive and started off with a solid jerk and a spin of the wheels. This was followed by a quick wink at me.
"Why could the chopper not take us right to the patient" I asked
"Oh he's stuck in a deep and narrow gully, what's worse is he is in a tree. If we took the chopper anywhere near. Then the wash of the chopper blades, would like as not blow him right out of the tree and further down into the gully."
We travelled without any more conversation for about fifteen minutes. All the time the terrain was getting rougher and steeper. On arrival at the incident site, initially there was nothing to for us to see.
"Walk this way Sir." Lachie said and then under his breath said.
“If he could walk that way I would not need talcum powder.”
He then pointed over what looked like a small crest in the rolling Welsh countryside. Lachlan led the way. When we reached the crest it was more like looking down a cliff face. I looked down, and there laid on his back, was the injured soldier. The trouble was he was snared up in a large tree, which was also leaning over the sharp drop. Its roots, having been all but pulled clear of the soil, which was all that was holding it down to mother earth. There was another soldier sat at the base of the tree, fixing ropes and staking them into the surrounding area.
"How did this happen?" the SMO asked Lachie.
"Sorry sir. I have all the info that you have, which I am guessing is none at all"
I knew Lachie was just pushing the officer, just to see how far he could take his own sense of humour. Whilst the SMO said nothing, I knew he was not happy with Lachie's quip. This under normal circumstances could have been treated as ‘Rank Insubordination’. The uninjured soldier from below shouted up
"Are you guys here to help or to watch?"
We carefully slid down the side of hill towards the tree. It seemed quite obvious to us, when we got down there, that there had been some sort of explosion near to the tree. This had resulted in this unfortunate individual, ending up clutched in a bosom of branches, about six feet from the ground.
"Grenade went off." The soldier roping the tree said, pointing to a medium sized hole in the ground about 8 feet from the side of the tree.
"Well I have no intention of climbing up there, to treat him so you lot had better get him out from the tree and up to the top of the ridge." The SMO said
Then he turned and started up the slope. Lachie and I helped the other guy secure the tree. Then between the three of us, we managed to attach a short neck and back board to the injured man. After which we managed to carefully extract the man from the branches. We gently lowered him to the ground. He was breathing but very pale. I did a quick check and although most of his major bones seemed to be unbroken. The only sign of any injury was some bleeding from both of his ears. There was little or no response to light from his pupils. He looked like death warmed up. After getting him onto the stretcher we got him up to the top of the slope and to the awaiting Medical Officer. I rattled off my basic report,
"Neck and Spine along with all major bones look OK. Blood pressure is extremely low as is his pulse, which is almost non-existent. He has shallow breathing, and has shown no signs of consciousness Sir".
The SMO started to check the patient out on his own. I walked over to the other soldier, who wore no insignia, or rank badges.
"So how did he get no external injuries from a blast that looks to have thrown him up into the air and then dumped him in the branches of a tree?"
"I don't know Sarge, happened before I got here and I was told to call it in and secure the site." He replied
"OK Mate I need some details. Like who is he? What Unit?"
"I refer you to my first reply Sarge"
I started to think he was another Lachie, a smart mouth.
"And you are?"
"Sorry Sarge I can’t say."
"Don't be a tosser all your life. We are not some enemy," I replied to him. In somewhat harsher tones than I had intended.
"Sorry Sarge. Was not being a gobshite, just none of us on this training course know any of the others, and I am on orders not to give out my details"
"Who's Orders?"
"Sor................"
I cut him off "Can’t Say, OK I get it. But in order for us, to treat your man over there I am going to need a few details. Like blood group etc. etc."
My boss called me over
"He has a tag around his neck which has a bar code and just his blood group, of O-Positive. What did you get from his mate?"
"Less than you Sir, it would appear to be some sort of SAS ‘hush hush’ training shit"
"OK let’s get him down from here after we get a line into him"
Lachie and I put the patient into the back of the APC and I turned around to get the other soldier to give him a lift back, and he was gone. Fuck it! I thought and closed the back door of the APC. Then I got in the front with Lachie. We chatted on the drive back and he told me he was actually planning on joining the SAS. He had come down with some other Rock Apes, who were providing logistical support, for the SAS this week. He had volunteered for this duty, so he could have a look see, and check out, what it would be like, being a member of the most elite fighting force of the British army. When we reached the chopper, we loaded up our patient. The flight back Brawdy was uneventful. We got him down to the medical Centre. My boss asked me to get on a computer and get the medical records, belonging to the patients Bar Code. So I scanned it and sent it off, to the Military Records Department. I had expected a quick reply, just not as quick as it came. The phone on my desk rang.
"Station Medical Centre, Sergeant McPhee speaking how can I help you?"
"You have one of my men there, so we are sending a chopper to collect him"
"Sorry, who am I speaking too?"
"That does not matter. What matters is, you have one of my men. You picked him up on the Brecon Beacons. We will be with you in about ten to fifteen minutes; can you have him ready for transport?"
"Please wait. I think you need to talk to the Senior Medical Officer as he is treating this man"
The Phone went dead.
I went and told the SMO of my brief telephone conversation. He was interrupted, by his phone ringing. The SMO motioned for me to stay and answered his phone.
"Sir, Yes Sir, yes Sir, Sir? Are you sure? Sir, yes Sir, but.... but, OK but I want you to sign off on this. OK Sir. Yes, Sir" and he put the phone down.
"That was the C.O. (Commanding Officer) He says we are not to interfere in any way with this patient. We are not to ask any questions. Just make him ready to go. And Andy, not a word of this to anyone"
Ten minutes later a Gazelle chopper landed on the Helipad, outside the medical Centre. Two soldiers in full Nomex with balaclavas came in and took the patient,
"One of you wants to sign for him?"
They never even broke stride and just took him outside and loaded him, along with their shelf's into the chopper. This took off immediately.
"I Guess not" I mutter to myself.
"Andy can you come to my office please"
I followed the SMO to his office
"Take a Seat. I don't know what happened here today, but I just got orders for you. I am guessing it probably has something to do with today’s incident, as I am also being posted out. You are to report to the C.O. of Centre for Defence Enterprise. Porton Down. You are also to receive a promotion to Flight Sergeant effective immediately. I am apparently off to Strike Command at RAF High Wycombe with a promotion to Group Captain."
I think my mouth must have dropped, but he went on
"You are not due for a promotion Andy, nor am I. But I will take it without question and I would strongly suggest that you do the same"
"Not a problem for me Sir"
"That's it, you best go pack been nice working with you. Perhaps we'll meet again. Best of luck in your new post" He put his hand out and I shook it
"You too Sir"
I walked out cleared of my personal possessions from my desk. Then over to the Sergeants Mess and packed my Kit Bags. By the time I got to Administration, I was handed my travel warrant, along with the Crown to go on top of my three stripes.
ACT 3
On arrival at CDE Porton Down, I reported to reception and was pointed immediately to the Commanding Officers office. I knocked and waited
"Enter"
I did so and was faced with a Group Captain, which I saluted and spouted off
"Flight Sergeant McPhee reporting for duty Sir"
"Have a seat"
I did
"Now before we start I need you to sign the Official Secrets Act. I am sure you have already done this on many occasions but this one carries a RED SEAL so effectively this takes you to a top secret level. That is to say that it is the extended version of the Official Secrets Act."
I signed and he countersigned and then put the folder down on his desk.
"I have your service record here. I don't know the whys and wherefores’, of your promotion and posting to me. It looks like you either shagged the wife of someone very high up, or saw something that you should not have seen. I shall not ask you which it was, as I really don't want to know. The official line for this place is that we are all working on the cure for the common cold, but I am sure that you already know that is bullshit. So to cut the crap, we work on Chemical and Biological warfare. This includes finding treatments and vaccines for all the nasty shit that THEY have, and creating our own nasty shit to use against THEM."
He paused and I guessed he was waiting for some kind of response from me.
"What is my position here?"
"You are to work in the medical research treatment Centre. We have volunteers from across the forces, and we patch test things like Blistering agents on them. To see which of our NBC Suits is the least impregnable to these agents. Occasionally there are some minor incidents. When this happens you will be required to treat patients, who have had reactions."
He continued "Now get yourself over to the Sergeants Mess, and get settled in. Then you are to report to your section tomorrow, for induction.”
"Thank you Sir"
I stood up and stood to attention and offered up one of my smartest salutes. Then I turned and exited the office. I found my way to the Sergeants Mess and was allocated a room. After I unpacked and put everything, that someone, who lives out of their Kit-bag away. Then I went downstairs to the Bar.
"Large Jameson's please, and no ice"
The steward brought the drink over. I sipped it. I tried to process all that had happened in the last twelve hours.
In the morning, I went to where I had been told to report. The Medical Research Centre. This was massive and full of various sub sections. I went to reception and woman in civilian clothes, pulled open the glass sliding window.
"Your name and rank please?"
"Flight Sergeant Andy McPhee."
She gave me a blue Radiation Monitoring badge and another yellow and undisclosed monitoring badge
"You are to wear these at all times. Please sign here" she passed a clipboard over and I signed.
"Down to the end of the hall and take the lift to S3"
"S3?"
"Sub level three."
I did as I was told. The lift doors slid open into a small corridor. This was lined with thick glass windows that made them look green. I went to the first door, which was fortunately labelled ‘Office’. I knocked and then entered. There were two other people in the room, an older gentleman with a white lab coat over an army shirt, but without insignia or rank showing and a younger man who was dressed in a Saville Row pinstripe suit.
"Excuse me, I am Flight Sergeant Andy McPhee, and I was told to report here today."
They both looked at each other and then at me.
"Or I can just wait outside, until you two are finished."
I turned and walked out closing the door behind me. Then I waited in the narrow corridor. From time to time variety of people would go from one door to another. Some were dressed in civilian clothes, others in various Military Dress Uniforms. Then occasionally, others dressed in protective clothing. No one talked to me, not even to say Hi or to ask what I was doing sat here? After about twenty minutes, the guy in the Saville Row suit came out from the office.
"You can go in now."
Then he left and entered the lift, and was gone. I went in and waited for the bloke in the lab coat to finish writing. However he continued to do so, seemingly blissfully unaware of my presence. I coughed a few times just for good measure, then waited some more. Eventually he looked up, and closed the folder he had been busy reading, and adding notes to the margin.
"You’re a Medic from Brawdy?"
Personally I kind of thought it was obvious that I was a medic, standing there in my number one dress uniform and wearing my gold RAF Medical badges on both my lapels.
"That would sound about right yes, and you are?"
"Edwin." He rose and offered his hand
"We just use first names here, and we don’t bother with all that rank stuff. It gets so confusing with all the services, and various nations military here as well." he sat back down
"So you are Andy. You and your Station Medical Officer, were called to an incident at the Brecon Beacons yesterday? Is that about right?"
My internal alarm bells were going off big time, as I was trying to figure out why a soldier that had been blown up with a hand grenade would cause my sudden and immediate posting to this place where no one really had a name, rank or service. I decided to keep my answers short at least until I knew what was going on.
"Yes"
I had not been offered a seat and being as I was not being held Rank accountable. I removed my Cap and sat down.
"Did you get a good look at the patient?"
"Yes" I replied
“Andy. What was your medical opinion?"
"Someone tried to blow him up, however his injuries were not consistent with the story. In fact, I thought, he was having some form of brain haemorrhage. However, I am not fully qualified to answer that question"
I was not sure if this guy was being friendly or just yanking my chain, so did not reply using his name
"And was this the opinion of the Medical Officer with you?"
"I really can’t say. You would have to ask my boss"
"But in your opinion would you say his injuries were inconsistent with being blown up?"
If I told him the truth, which was I don't know how the guy ended up in the tree but he sure as hell was not standing next to a grenade when it went off. No fractures no massive blood loss (except from the ears) no tears to his uniform and his boots were clean. I decided to keep this to myself until I was given a bit more info.
"I would have to say that a concussive blast, could have ruptured both of his eardrums, and sent him flying up into the tree. There was a small crater, similar in size to that which could have been created, by a grenade"
"Andy, have you and your medical officer discussed this with anyone else"
"Nope"
"Or with each other"
"Apart from the basics like he was unconscious but alive, and we took him back to Brawdy for full examination. But as I am sure you know we never had a chance to do that"
"Any others see this injured man?"
I knew the question was coming to be fair. That said I really did not want to involve Lachie in whatever shit was going on. No one gets a promotion overnight without apparent reason. So by that very reasoning, there must have been an important reason and it must have been very time sensitive. I decided to hold back a bit.
"Not that I am aware of Edwin."
"OK Great. Thanks Andy."
Then he went back to his folder making more notes. I just sat there and waited some more and some more until he looked up.
"Is there something more, you wish to tell me Andy?"
"No I don't think so"
"So?"
"So?" I replied
Another pregnant pause I gave in first
"Edwin. What am I doing here? I was posted to this Unit? Who is in charge? So at least I can get to work or get a coffee."
"Sorry Andy, I thought you had been told. You are to go to the SST Unit, on the Ground Floor and report to their reception"
"Right" I replied
I stood up and walked out leaving the door open and headed for the Lift. I entered and pressed the button marked <G> Once again in the reception area, I asked the woman behind the glass window, for the SST UNIT. She handed me a Visitor Tag and pointed down the hallways, through the double doors and to the room at the extreme end of the corridor. As it turned out it was a long walk that seemed to slope gently downwards taking the occasional turn to the right and then up a small flight of stairs at the end to a door Emblazoned with the letters SST and all sorts of Hazardous Warnings Chemical, Radiation, Biological, Fire and a few other symbols that I did not instantly recognize. I had no doubt that at some point someone would tell me what they all meant. I opened the door which looked like a classroom filled with multiple services and multiple ranks as well as what looked like a few civilians. There was a General from the Royal Army Medical Corps, talking and pointing at an oversized blackboard with an old snooker cue. Every eye in the room turned in my direction and the General stopped talking, and glared at me
"Yes is there something I can help you with Sergeant?"
"Hi I'm Andy and I was told to report here"
It seemed that the hush had become even more hushed, if that was even possible. I looked at the General and the veins and arteries all over his neck and face looked like they were about to explode!!!!His mouth moved but nothing came out for a bit and then it exploded in a torrent of spittle and expletives, most of which I had previously heard but there were a few in there that were new to me.
"Well Sergeant Andy Fucking Pandy! You little badly spent piece of cum, that managed to get into your mothers, poor forlorn and damaged womb. From which she spewed forth your little fucking shit for brains out, onto my highly polished and educated floor. You Sergeant Andy Fucking Pandy are less than the total of an amoeba’s sex life and without the singular brain cell to go with it. You were to report here YESTERDAY!"
"Finished?" I asked
This brought forward another mouthful that would have been respectful from some drill instructor. However, it was a tad more than I had expected, from an officer and a General. The veins by now were threatening to detonate, and his eyeballs seemed to be trying to extricate themselves from their sockets.
"See this Rank on my arm, I am a FUCKING GENERAL!"
"Yes Sir, Sorry Sir"
I wasn't but said it anyway. He stalled for a moment so I thought just for fun a bit of tit for tat was in order.
"See these three stripes? Now that would make me a sergeant. Now you see this fucking gold crown? Now that would make me a fucking Flight Sergeant. Now we are even."
I was really starting to have a bad day. I continued
"Sir I was just down at S3, there I was told that it was all first names, so I was unaware that the rules changed with the floors. I was only shipped out to this place twelve hours ago. This was about thirty minutes after I got the posting notice. Those were handed to me by my SMO, who was in turn posted to Strike command, with the same speed. So I am really fucking sorry. Because I don't have a clue, as to what the fuck is going on. Being as no one here, will fucking tell me, Sir?"
The silence was palpable and then he stuck out a meaty hand and said
“Welcome aboard Andy.”
Then the entire classroom burst into hysterics at my expense.
"Andy Take a seat please"
There were a few empty seats along the side of the room and so I walked on to the end of the front row and sat down.
"For the benefit of our newest member from the Royal Air Force, Sergeant Andy Pandy, with the Crown"
I guess I had asked for that slice of sarcasm
"I shall quickly go back to the beginning"
The lecture proved to be about the dangers associated with the different levels of contamination and how these contagions would normally be directed toward an army or Country. So was at the basic end of the scale. When the lecture finished I followed the rest of the sheep out of the room, and down the corridor to what was a dining hall, for all ranks. I joined the line and grabbed a tray and went to the servery, where I chose steak pie and mashed potatoes along with a mug of coffee. I found an empty table and sat down to eat.