Page 151 - RSDG Year of 2022 CREST

Capt R Beatty
(Beats to his friends) commissioned into the Regiment in August 2018 to much fanfare: ever enigmatic, if you had asked a Trooper not long after his arrival, you would have been confidently told that an Irish Gypsy Boxer had just been gazetted into the Scottish Cavalry. Never one to dispel good PR, those that know Rory, know that he is more Oisín the warrior poet, than he is Mickey O’Neil from Snatch.
Rory epitomised the hard, witheringly intelligent, robust, recce Officer that a subaltern should aspire to be: setting his stall out early for levels of eye-watering self-flagellation, whilst at Sandhurst Rory first entered the consciousness of his contemporaries by thrashing himself so hard on a physical event that he managed to incur a heat injury in the depths of winter. To this day it remains a medical miracle that the thermometer used upon him by that hapless med centre nurse did not spontaneously combust in response to the internalised rage of not being able to complete another few rounds of the circuit. A significant personality in his intake, he was notably singled out by the Civ Popn during Ex TEMPLARS TRIUMPH, whereafter he found himself having to assure his OC he did not in fact enjoy the proclivities of which the chants accused him, and to this day, he maintains that he didn’t seek out his soon-to-be Brother SCOTS DG officer during the riot serial to make up for the slight: the perfect targeting of a size 12 Altberg to the Author’s chest would contend otherwise.
There are few that would be brave enough to take on Rory Beatty, however, an E.coli-laced pizza from Brecon had the stones, and following an illness that would have felled a lesser man whilst at IBS, Rory finally arrived at Regimental Duty for a short period before heading down to Bovington to begin his Troop Leader’s course. Whilst most one-pips would spend their time at Bovington languishing in a hangover- led stupor, you would have been far more likely to find Rory taking the other Light Cav Officers out onto the hills surrounding the cove and individually humbling each of them for even dreaming they could be as effective as him carrying weight. That’s not to say that Beats (or perhaps Carl) would not be the life
of any social event: he could just as easily be found shrugging off a flying-kicked spur to the eye (leaving him with a two-week long squint during one party), attempting a faithful recreation of Sgt Ewart’s actions to a handful of over-enthusiastic Frenchmen in Caen, delivering impromptu lessons on fire and movement with salt and pepper shakers to ill-fated teenagers in a Warminster pub, or vigorously imploring a QRH Colonel to play the Lt Col Keyes to his Paddy Mayne.
Upon his arrival to Regimental Duty proper, Beats took over Third Troop, C Sqn, and almost immediately deployed with them onto MST for Op CABRIT 6. Alongside the inimitable Sgt Naga, Rory very quickly established a quiet almost ruthless efficiency within the Troop, and duly deployed his troop to Poland in good order. When not in a self-designed belly hide in the Polish wilderness, or conducting eye-bleeding workouts in the gym, Beats would often be found reading some bleak tome, vape in hand, fire alarm disabled, the DFAC’s supply of chocolate on his chest, and steaming tea nearby. Returning from Poland in the Spring of 2020, he found himself thrust into Op RESCRIPT with the rest of the Regiment. One of the few stranded Junior Officers in the mess, he quickly established a well-honed routine of evenings of fine craft ales of high percentage, and mornings of skin-tight gym-wear and tyre flipping. A great cinephile, the comparison between Paul Bettany’s character in the Da Vinci Code and Rory’s morning mortification by phys-based chain cilice was not lost on the mess.
The far side of COVID saw Rory deploy on Ex WESSEX STORM where he led his troop with the tactical aplomb that became his hallmark, ranking top of all troops on the battle lanes in STANTA. However, to our loss and their gain, Rory departed for Canada shortly after, taking a role with the Royal Canadian Dragoons (RCD) as a 2IC on exchange. It will not surprise the reader to know, that within weeks photo- graphic evidence began to circulate of a Dorito-shaped Irishman running in some obscene cross-country event carrying a canoe on his back. A capacity to go native in whichever land he sets foot is within the man’s nature.
It is beyond doubt that Beats would have made an exceptional senior Captain and beyond at Regimental Duty, and we are deeply sorry to see him go. Well-loved by his soldiers, and a wise old head amongst his peers, he will be sorely missed, but it is certain that his relentless drive for excellence and personal discipline will see him well in whatever he chooses to apply himself. We wish him all the best for future, and his friends hope it won’t be too long until a hulking Irishman kicks in their door and calls them profanities.
“People think I’m a big, mad, Irishman. But I’m not. I calculate the risks for and against and then have a go” – possibly Rory Beatty or Paddy Mayne, in the snug, or Libyan Desert, sometime in 2020 or 1943.
Not listed for the Connaught Rangers, but for the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, Rory Beatty
EAGLE AND CARBINE 159