Road to Recovery

Chapter 28

  On the evening of the first of October I found myself standing in the reception area of the Dorchester Hotel, all dressed up in my finery, along with David, Charlie, Maria (as my arm candy), Caroline and Agnetha (she and Charlie were now an ‘item’) and surrounded by a group of the Colonel’s ‘finest’, as it was David and Charlie’s night off. David and Charlie were resplendent in their D.J.’s, complete with rows of eye catching miniature medals on their chests, and we were all patiently waiting for the Colonel, and of course he walked in dead on the designated hour, with his long suffering wife on his arm. It was handshakes and/or kisses all round and then ‘time we were off’. The Colonel was in charge tonight.

  As we exited the main entrance we were greeted by the sight of what must have been the largest Hummer (based on the US Armies Humvee) in the world, it was the stretchiest limo I have ever seen, and it was surrounded by a group of bikers. Not your ordinary ‘Hells Angels’ type of biker, more your top of the range ‘Royal Corps of Signals White Helmets Motor Cycle Display Team’ type of biker, resplendent in their finest livery. As we clambered into the vehicle the Colonel directed us all too where we should sit, if I had been in charge of that operation I would have needed an A-Z of the vehicle, and a road-stewardess poured us all a drink. Once the Colonel’s boys were aboard more conventional Range Rovers we buckled up and were off, and the White Helmets must have been going our way because they followed us (in front, at the sides and behind, along with some friendly police motorcyclists that also just happened to be passing) all the way to the Guildhall, it was really very convenient, especially when we were going around Piccadilly Circus. At the end of the noisy drive (everyone seemed to be wanting to try out their sirens) the driver got a trifle disorientated, he followed the motorcycles into an area not normally used by motor vehicles, although it was very convenient for us as we came to a halt quite close to the main entrance. We could have got even closer if it hadn’t been for a group of soldiers standing about, in two straight lines. As a lowly civilian it looked to me like there must be a representative from every Regiment and Unit in the British Army, but I may have been mistaken, and then the door next to David opened and the Colonel indicated to him to exit first, most inappropriate - but the Colonel must know best. A Sergeant with a black eye was holding the door open for him, and he was saluting, ‘Not for me Paddy, I was only a lowly Warrant Officer, not worthy of a salute’.

  ‘*ollocks’ came the reply, and he remained saluting.

  David had realised early on in the journey that ‘something was up’ then as he stood there with the long lines of the honour guard in front of him the penny finally dropped. He had been wondering what the ‘Anniversary Banquet’ was in aid of, but every time he asked me I had given him a vague answer, now he knew. It was the second anniversary of his ‘incident’ in Afghanistan, so David, with Caroline proudly on his arm (and the rest of us traipsing along behind) acknowledged each representative as he walked stiff backed between the lines. As we arrived at the main entrance David (the rest of us were totally ignored) was greeted by the Colonel of 22 Regiment SAS - Colonel Jameson, who gave him a ground shaking salute (about a 8.5 on the Richter Scale), and then escorted him through the foyer into the glass ambulatory to where a line of Officers and men were waiting to greet him. He knew some of them, but not all. The first one in the line-up was Surgeon Commander (now Captain) Beatty RN from RNAS Culdrose, who came to attention, shook his hand and whispered ‘you deserve a lot more than tonight’.

  ‘Tonight???’ then it was on to the next one. The rest of the tri-service line up were the other two members of his team from Afghanistan, the Royal Air Force crews from the Chinook and Tornado aircraft, and the Army Air Corp crews of the Apache helicopters. A few familiar faces were there from the supporting cast of that memorable day, followed right at the very end of the line by a sheepish Captain Gerald Fitzpatrick - complete with an oversized symbolic plaster on his chin; he had obviously learnt his lesson. Captain Fitzpatrick quickly whispered that the only time that the ‘incident’ had ever been mentioned had been in the office before he had been sent cap in hand back to England, and all that they had said at Credenhill was that they understood that he had blotted his copybook big time, and wondered where they were going to send him to carry out his penance. He had no idea how the Generals had found out, mind you the second in command of that Afghanistan detachment was very conspicuous by his absence that evening. As he was steered towards the Great Hall the huge doors were opened by two more sergeants, one with another black eye and the other with a fat lip. Apparently the Regimental Sergeant Major had let the Sergeants Mess choose who would have the honour of opening the doors for David, there was a long list of volunteers, but it was whittled down to just the three of them in the boxing ring, and as he entered the eight hundred year old medieval banqueting hall all conversation stopped instantly, and virtually everyone leapt to their feet and stood to attention. As Colonel Jameson steered David towards the ‘top table’, through wall to wall gold braid, most of the ‘top table’ remained seated, they hadn’t a clue what was going on, they thought that this was just another very expensive ‘free dinner’, and hadn’t twigged on that they just happened to be the ones that had been involved in the decision to ‘retire’ David - most, but not all. A ‘very senior’ Royal and his two sons rose to their feet and came around to the front of the table, much to the puzzlement of the rest of the tables occupants and came to a halt in front of David, and came to attention, the father in his Royal Navy uniform perhaps not quite as smartly as his sons in their Army and Royal Air Force ones, but he made up for it in gold braid, and David stood open mouthed as Colonel Jameson introduced him to the royal party, ‘your Royal Highness Sir, may I have the honour of introducing Warrant Officer first class (‘retired’ in a low voice) David Brian Williams, Distinguished Conduct Medal and bar to you.’

  ‘We really will have to stop meeting like this Warrant Officer’ the most senior of them said, ‘but that aside it really is an honour to meet you again.’ After introducing David to his sons we, that open mouthed gaggle following on behind, were also introduced to their Royal Highnesses, the senior one commenting to me that ‘apparently you have a rather nice house out in Spain Mr Michaels, I would consider it an honour to be invited to look around it sometime’, then came the main event of the evening, the presentation, and as we stood to one side His Royal Highness presented David with a beautiful half sized silver replica of his trusty BMG McMillan snipers rifle. ‘Apparently every unit has contributed towards this’ (don’t forget me I thought), and then, as the RSM struggled (without flinching a muscle) to hold it out, he continued, ‘please note your miniatures (medals) along the front of the plinth’ and indicating the centre one, the only one that David didn’t recognise, he continued in a louder voice, ‘especially this one’. It was a beautifully hand painted ‘miniature’ of Queen Victoria, mounted on a very fine filigree Maltese cross. ‘You now have your very own ‘Victoria Cross’, and I hope that Mummy will not miss the painting’. The five Generals still seated at the Top Table, upon hearing the Royals comments knew that their Military careers all hung in the balance and stood up, two of them quickly going over to congratulate David (after all, history would show {they hoped} that all they had done was rubber stamp the decision), and the other three quietly slipped away, no doubt pondering what debilitating diseases that they could contract that would end their military careers, after all they all had an absolute penchant for medical discharges.

  Before everyone sat down I had a quick word with David, this was a military occasion, not for mere civilians, so I explained that I would make my excuses and take Maria out for a slap up meal as compensation. Caroline overheard my comments and asked if she could tag along, she didn’t want to cramp her husband’s style on his special night, after all she could watch the video anytime, although Agnetha opted to remain; it was her ambition to drink Charlie under the table - and these tables looked pretty fancy to her, and s
o as I slipped away, a beautiful woman on each arm, and the Colonel’s finest reluctantly tagging along behind, I watched the Royal Marines band preparing to perform (among other things) their world famous ‘sunset’ routine for the honoured guest. The Marines obviously hadn’t forgotten South Georgia all those years ago either. I hope David wasn’t going to expect this kind of treatment every time we went out; it was going to cost me a small fortune to placate these two women.

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