WAIT OUT Part 16

“I note, that during your imprisonment, you have made a request to be considered for the Special Air Service, or for Hazardous Duties in Northern Ireland.” Colonel Reilly looked up at Fusilier Steen.
Steen stood rigid to attention, his belt and beret replaced, for the first time in thirty days. “I ‘ave Sir.”
“Well,” the Colonel continued, “I have to say, that at this time, I am not prepared to endorse your application.”
Steen felt his temper rising, but knew that he was in a ‘no win’ situation. “Right Sir.” He suppressed his desire to ‘go’ for the Colonel.
“I have my doubts about your ability to function in stressful situations without close supervision.” The Colonel picked up a report from the Regiment’s prison wing. “My concerns are upheld by the prison staff, who, likewise, have concerns about your ability to make rational decisions, when under stress.”
Steen felt his stomach churn as he held himself together. “I understand that Sir,” he disguised his hatred well, “but,” he continued, “I would like the opportunity to prove that I can work under stress.”
The Colonel, took the plea on board, but, nevertheless, kept to his agenda. “I hear what you are saying, Fusilier Steen. I have to think of the wider picture, and I have to say, once again, that I am not prepared to endorse your application at this time. Should your present attitude and short temper subside, then I may re-think my position. It’s up to you to prove me wrong, and, if you do so, I will be pleased to endorse your application for selection to either the SAS, or for hazardous duties in Northern Ireland.” The Colonel looked up. “Dismissed.” He said as he looked back at the negative reports laid out before him.
Jock Steen, saluted, turned about, and marched out of the CO’s Office, with the Regimental Sergeant Major close behind. On the outside, he half turned and stuck two fingers in the direction of the CO, making sure he was out of sight of the RSM.
He walked slowly back to join the sniper section, who were preparing for continuation training on the ranges surrounding Catterick Garrison. His thoughts deepened, as he realised that he had to tell his friend and mentor that he had failed at the first hurdle to being accepted for service with Britain’s elite special forces.
The ‘range day’ went quickly. Steen made his way to the public telephone kiosk, near to the Guard Room. At exactly 7.00 p.m., he dialled the number to Patrick O’Brien’s home.
“Jock,” O’Brien was anxious and quick to answer.
“Aye it’s me.”
“Where, in God’s name have you been?”
“Locked up.”
“Ah, my boy, ‘ave you no thought for us out here who have a concern for you?”
“Och aye, but ‘ave noo way of tellin’ ya aboot ma problems ‘ere.”
“You could have written!”
“Och, I was only allowed one letter a week, an’ that was tae ma Maam.”
“Well you could of told her, she’d have told me.”
“Ave no wish tae worry ma Maam.”
O’Brien realised the position Jock had been in and changed the tone of the conversation.
“Well, tell me what’s gone on.”
Steen explained the reason for his incarceration, but lied, about his temper and actions, saying, that he had been the one who had been attacked, but that, the attacker’s mates had said that he had been responsible. O’Brien, was not convinced, but let Jock lie, un-hindered.
“Ahh well, you’ve done your time. Now, what else can you tell me?”
For a moment there was a silence. “I ‘avna, been successful, in ma application to join the SAS.” He said, almost apologetically.
“What about the new undercover force?” O’Brien’s pitch telegraphed his concern.
“That neither.”
“I don’t understand, what’s the problem?”
Steen had no hesitation in his, quickly constructed response. “They avne got theirr act t’getherr yet.” He lied. “Ma name’s doon for the first intake.”
“Any idea when that’ll be?” O’Brien’s voice had a note of optimism in it.
“Ave no idea, but I’ll keep the pressure up.”
“That’s good, Jock, I’ll let my friends over the water know that you are pursuing that. Well done.”
“I’ve bin told tae day that the Regiment is tae spend the summer training in Canada, so it’ll be some time before a can properly apply.”
The problems and position understood, the conversation ended and Steen made his way back to his block. The hate inside him for the ‘British Military’ was becoming unbearable.
He knew he had no chance of infiltrating the heart of the Special Forces, and, realising that one day he would have to face his handlers, he began to construct a way out of the predicament his lying had put him in.
His thoughts turned to the possibility of spending the summer planning, in the lea of the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Talk of another four month tour of Northern Ireland, scheduled to start in July 1993, stirred him.
…