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The Guardhouse

A story from Dave Rablin

One Cold Night
One cold winters eve whilst I was on mobile patrol as an RMP I saw a young soldier, a little worse for wear and staggering towards his barracks. He was not causing any problems so I gave him a lift back and as he left I bet him he would have a hangover. I thought that was the end of it but later another young soldier came to the duty room to ask if I had arrested the soldier earlier. I said that I had not and was told that the soldier I had given a lift to had been put into the guardroom because he had come home by police car.
I went to the Green Jackets guardroom to be confronted by this lad being marched around the square at high speed at well past midnight. I confronted the RP Sgt. who was unaware of what had gone on and ordered the RP Cpl. and his charge back. They came closer and I suddenly had a nightmare.... Cpl. Fagg !!!!! He was the same as I remembered a few years earlier ... Ugly and really with lack of any feeling. The young lad was sent to bed, Cpl. Fagg had a load of explaining to do to his Sgt. and me? I just felt smug.
Thought this sad tale might amuse you.

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