Page 52 - Light Dragoons 2023 CREST

The Regimental Journal of The Light Dragoons
meals flown in from Paris. But these appa- ritions unnerved Khedive Ibn Glover, who was all too familiar with the Shah’s fate...
“My people grow soft; their bellies grow wide. They have forgotten the sweet aus- terity which once we kindled in the desert. We must travel back to Duqm with haste to ensure the men become bored and dis- gruntled again. If we do not do this, the other tribes will see our heightened spirits and they will accuse us of deriving pleasure from our work. Which, as we know, is great sin”!
“Hamdullallah, the Khedive is very wise!”
“May God bless Ibn Glover, he is right!”
With reluctance, Ibn Glover drove his peo- ple back on to the great 30-seater carts and with a heavy heart, turned his back on the beach club.
The coaches pulled into the RSV, the squeak of the brakes matched only by the sighs of the passengers as they looked out of the windows on to the labour dormitories.
5 working days remained before the flight. Quick as a flash, a suggestion was made to
hold an endurance event to pass the time. 11 members of the squadron completed a 48hr challenge running 4 miles every 4 hours. They clocked their final lap at 0445 on the morning of the 04th December, with 48 hours to go before the flight. Just enough time to rest weary legs and soak up the final days of Arabian sunshine.
The squadron set up in the Crown Plaza Hotel for their final day. Back home, the cold weather had rolled in. But in Duqm the air was still warm on the faces of the guards.
For the last time, the Guards made use of the gyms and coffee shops in the RSV. One last game of volleyball, one last day on the lounger with smooth jazz playing from the pool speakers. Now the deploy- ment had come to an end, three months no longer seemed so long. With home at the front of each mind and on each fingertip, the guards surrendered themselves to the culmination of their experience.
Ibn Glover and his people arrived late into a cold, dismal Brize-Norton. They unloaded the camels and goats from the anus of the mechanical bird and set off on the final leg of the journey.
All around, passers by bore them little interest, they were just one of the many parties heading North, they could have been anyone. But inside that packet were individuals, soldiers who had made the Trek to Duqm, with dust still on their boots and capes and razor blade eyes, drawn taught by the sun.
As the coach pulled into the gates of Gaza barracks and rested on the parade square, there was a pause, the final subconscious nod to the journey from the passengers. Then, Ibn Glover stood and under his breath whispered, “Hamdulallah”. The Guards were home.
DHE
All hands on deck to find Lt Elkington’s missing rifle
Sultan Qaboos Mosque has never seen such a dapper crew
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