Page 111 - QDG 2023

1st The Queen’s Dragoon Guards
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who was I to argue? Needless to say, the Company Commander didn’t go over to complain, nor did this ingratiate us with our parent ‘unit.’ It was that evening that I met up again with the Captain from the PPCLI who I had met in Cyprus the year before (as discussed in last year’s article on Beirut.) He gave me his number and said that we really ought to visit them in Vancouver.
The following day, Gunny told us that we had a training video to watch, and the troop assembled at his house, which we thought somewhat unusual. He ushered us into his home cinema (we couldn’t believe anyone had a home cinema!) and put on a John Wayne film, The Searchers, about an ex-5th Cavalry officer! That evening, we all went to one of the bars on camp where there was a Korean girl band playing Michael Jackson. It was somewhat surreal, especially as there were regularly patrols through the venue by MPs armed to the teeth.
We had little kit with us when we embarked upon the helicopters to fly out to Yakima because everything had been sent ahead with the advance party. I was marginally sceptical that we would find everything as I remembered how chaotic the USMC had been in Beirut. I needn’t have worried. We arrived, were shown to our tented lines where the accommoda- tion had already been erected, the camp beds set up and our kit laid out in each pre-designated four-man tent. Further- more, each tent had a wood burning stove with a pile of wood ready to be lit. Proper Cavalry style. We were camped under a hill which looked like a pimple, but was known as Squaw’s Tit. We could see Mount Rainier in the background, glowing at night and the surrounding area looked a bit like rural Afghanistan. It was more like a caravan park in Pembroke- shire than a tactical scheme.
Over the next week, there was not a lot of exercise conducted. Instead, we were taken up in Cobras, abseiled out of Hueys, fired the M203 grenade launcher underslung from an AR15, and spent a great deal of time listening to war stories. We met one of their pilots, a German, who it was claimed had flown for the Luftwaffe at the end of the War. The pilot looked in his mid 50s, so I suppose that this was possible. The Lieutenant who was our liaison officer was an extremely good guy called Leo. His speciality was extreme altitude diving which was done with an air tank. He came to visit me sometime later back in the UK and before he arrived, I told my girlfriend that he dived with a tank on his back and how dangerous it was. She didn’t believe me, saying that no one was that strong and anyway, the tank would squash him when he hit the ground!
At the end of the first week, Leo told us that we were going on a survival
course run by the Rangers in the snow at Huckleberry Creek, which was in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest and on the northeast corner of Mount Rainier National Park. We flew by helicopter into a Nissen Hut camp. There we were given cross country skis and searched to ensure we had no provisions since we were going to live off the land. We set off for half a day’s trek and arrived in time to be shown how to build a snow hole. At twilight, we set up snares and were told that when the sun rose, we would check the traps and would be so hungry, we wouldn’t even wait to cook the rabbits! Before we turned down for the night, we were instructed to stuff grass and leaves down our trousers and to gather up some wood to burn, which we should put in our sleeping bags to dry out. With this gung-ho Ranger attitude, we unrolled our sleeping bags and divided up the contraband provisions we had smuggled in - hidden in our sleeping bags - in good Cavalry style.
At daybreak, we checked the snares. Not one rabbit! One of the Rangers showed us how to make a fire from our dry provisions using belly button fluff and two stones. We were pretty sceptical, but it worked! We boiled some snow to have hot water for the morning bevvy and spent the day cross country skiing and learning some tricks of the trade. On arriving back to camp, we checked the snares again. No rabbits. We repeated the ritual of preparing for tomorrow morn- ing’s fire, climbed into our snow holes and consumed more of our illicit provisions. Needless to say, the following morning there were still no rabbits!
Unaware that we had actually eaten quite well on our provisions, the Rangers started to panic and ordered some take away rabbits. A couple of hours later, a helicopter dropped off a cage full. They were not the grey wild ones we were expecting to catch, but fluffy white domestic ones with large pink eyes. The head Ranger, who was probably the only person who hadn’t eaten, summoned us round him in a circle, grabbed one of
the rabbits and bashed its head on the ground so hard, its eyes popped out.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “in a survival situation, there is no room for niceties. It is imperative to consume food as expe- ditiously as possible. Every part of the animal needs to be eaten.”
He proceeded to pull the eyes right out of their sockets and stuff them in his mouth.
This party trick didn’t go down too well and for a moment, I thought I wouldn’t be the only person to embarrass them- selves by puking up the Mars Bar I’d had for breakfast. Thankfully, the stiff upper lip won. Not to be outdone and to show that the Cavalry are more civilised than the Rangers, we made our fires, boiled the water, skinned the rabbits and cooked them. Most left the eyes to one side. But there was some one upmanship and a few, including Danny Mead, did eat their eyes raw, just to prove a point.
At the end of the third day, as we returned to Fort Lewis, the head Ranger debriefed us and congratulated us on our professionalism and how impressed he was that he hadn’t heard one complaint about the lack of food.
With a week or so to spare, I contacted the PPCLI and they very kindly invited us to stay with them in Vancouver. We hired a couple of cars and drove up through Washington State to Vancouver, a journey of 3 1⁄2 hours. Anthony Pitman and I stayed for 24 hours before driving up to Vancouver Island to stay with some distant cousins of mine. I have no idea what the troop got up to whilst we were fishing, but there were plenty of grinning faces when we met up again. Better not to ask. And then the month was up! We flew back and on my return, I was summoned by Col Gordon and told that we had had a glowing report – from the 2LI.
First to Fight!
J B-H