Page 19 - KRH Regimental Journal 2022

The Regimental Journal of The King’s Royal Hussars 17
A (xHx) Squadron
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of seven questions, it was the age of gaffing off, it was the epoch of kashogi, it was the epoch of megaSOR, it was the season of MS, it was the season of keela, it was the spring of DEFENDER, it was the winter of CABRIT, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Alligator, we were all going direct the other way — in short, the period was so much like the present period: some of its noisiest WO1s insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
What a year! What a year! From the fertile plains of Wessex to the craggy shores of Wales. From the dust strewn moonscape of Drawsko Pomorskie to the towering bastions of Ivangorod. What frontier, what river, what tundra or indomitable JOA did a fair Hussar of the xHx not cross in 2022? It was a calendar year like no other, more packed than the Padre’s insidious Werther’s Originals pouch before a final attack. A veritable banquet of an FOE upon which the 20th feasted.
The Squadron swept the sleep from its eyes after a well-deserved spell of Christmas leave. Sgt Kingston eventually graced us with his presence after his much coveted and seemingly endless skiing holiday and AWIC Dave (Lt Sam Trowbridge) went to Norway on the Artic Warfare Instructors Course, which he has not stopped boring us about since. And so, after a few weeks of gunnery build up in January, Lambert’s Own boarded the White Angels back to CMR to hone those core skills, so beloved by all ranks: drink- ing Jerry’s overpriced cider and reacquainting ourselves with the damp embrace of dismounted LFXs on range 9. We struck camp on old familiar: Range 2. With the new range tower presenting a seismic shift in the local landscape, it was comforting to hear the dulcet tones of SSgt Sean Spencer as he scolded the SSM (still
AWIC Dave sporting a broken nose
Sgt Kingston skiing, again!
WO2 Calland at this point: the Sqn has churned through SSMs at the same rate the government churned through PMs) on day one for not sweeping the access road after firing. Hell, hath no fury like a Welshman in wellies scorned. Yet this package was not to be any old Hen Do. No. Long gone were the merry beach trips and lawn drinking bouts of 2021. This was to be raw CMR. And if you can’t take her at her worst, you certainly don’t deserve her at her driest. Fortunately, under the careful tutelage of the RGO, Mr Calland and a seemingly never-ending parade of junior RIGs top- ping up the trailer with brews and biscuits, A Sqn battled through some of the worst weather and equipment availability in living memory to complete our annual troop assessments.
Spartan routine by day was rewarded with bacchic celebrations at night. A live performance of the whole Oasis back catalogue by SHQ, with solos from Capt Nichol and LCpl Brashill, will for- ever remain burnt into the memories of those fortunate enough to witness it, and the relaxation of COVID rules in Wales lead to a glorious return to the bright lights of Paddles (now rebranded as ‘Out’ and bosting a questionable VIP area...), Haverford West and Tenby. Several (nameless) troopers and JNCOs were seen ducking for the line of first parade, having spent a night away from camp getting to know the locals.
Yet uncle Vlad soon cast a dark shadow across the free world and the Regiment. Frantic orders for Op MOBILISE were sent via BATCO and direction to reach a state of “readiness” was issued. But just like the metaphysical state of Nirvana and the rolling FUP, no one was quite sure what this was supposed to look like. As a result, the path of least resistance was chosen, and a good old fashioned ACMT, SCR and range hut MATTs package was seam- lessly executed. Now that Tpr Shackleton could consume a can of monster through his respirator and LCpl Lees, with gale force winds in support, could smash out an SCR in record time, word