A Slow Boat To Scotland

Stood at the aft of the ferry I watched the Emerald Isle slowly disappear. Not forever, just for a couple of weeks.

Our training period was coming to an end and the bosses had decided we were going to Scotland. Apparently we were going to practice being 'proper' soldiers. We were due to leave Northern Ireland in the next few months and move to Germany. There we would be expected to do the things that normal soldiers do. A year and a half in Northern Ireland had meant we had lost many of the skills that are expected of soldiers going to war. Yes we could patrol around some of the harder estates that Northern Ireland could offer. Yes we could support the police. Yes we knew what to do if there was a riot. But no - we could no longer assault an enemy position. We could no longer march for days on end across difficult terrain. We could no longer dig a hole and live in it.

Well maybe we still could - just not as well as we used to. The next two weeks were going to let us know what we could and couldn't do.

I wasn't really looking forward to it - if truth be told.