fairytales and frappuccions

 

“Farewell, warrior! ever brave,

Drifting onward to thy grave.”

The Brave Tin Soldier

 

Rolo the Soldier speaks to people who walk through him everyday. During the Falklands war he had been trained in the best camouflage methods to be elusive and remain unobservable in the most testing of scenarios. Since his return he stands as living testimony to the first class standards of MoD training as he rarely shows up on anybodys social radar anymore. 

 

He asked if I wanted to purchase a magazine so he could have enough to find dry shelter and buy a can of strong beer that night. I was 40 pence short for the publication, but bought him tea in a polystyrene cup from the stall behind us as I continued to wait at the bus shelter on a bitter afternoon in Camden. 

 

Rolo the Soldier didn’t sustain any long term physical injuries during his time as a combatant, so he had bullet holes tattooed on his neck upon his return- a representation he said, of the “scars in my mind.” Before I could ask about the nature of these scars and how Rolo came to be homeless as he is today, he turned to a city worker walking aggressively towards him- “Big Issue, sir?” The city worker raised his newspaper up to face level as if to create an editorial shield against having to acknowledge the existence of Rolo the Soldier and continued to walk. Whilst I’m sure the city worker didn’t know of the vendors’ background, this must’ve none the less been like a slap in the face for Rolo the Solider, because on the back of that raised paper (which was now flapping sharply and disappearing into the distance along with its well dressed owner) was a full page advert for the Army- complete with a short punchy slogan, exciting Desert-Storm animation, and smiling faces of token ethnics.  

 

As the Army launches a slick marketing drive on the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, it has come under heavy scrutiny by teachers for encouraging youngsters to “Be the Best” in schools. I’m guessing this isn’t because teachers are sitting around the biscuit tin in the staff room wondering if their jobs are being outsourced to the MoD, with Mrs Robinson the Head of Geography, saying to the Chemistry teacher “ Well George, we can’t have those meatheads from the Fifth Battalion telling my year 9’s to dream, that’s our job dammit!” followed by Mr Pritchards’ reply -“ Exactly Martha, just because they’ve been to Iraq doesn’t mean a thing, I bet they haven’t even done their PGC training.” Professional rivalries aside, one cannot help but side with the teachers in questioning the ethics of such recruitment tactics aimed at luring young people who are not yet old enough, or tall enough to even purchase a top-shelf magazine, into the battlefield.

 

The MoDs mouth piece, Shadow Defence Secretary Liam Fox retorted back that The National Union of Teachers should “concentrate on improving the education for British children instead of undermining British forces” and such action was tantamount to a “kick in the teeth for British soldiers”. Mr Foxs’ conclusions are so absurd and illogical I imagine him pitching his ideas to Des Browne- the top man in British State Defence, must be a ridiculously surreal affair indeed; 

 

Des: “So, Fox, you know resources are stretched and our numbers are low in Iraq and Afghanistan since they selfishly keep dying on us. We need fresh blood, and fast man!” 

 

Liam: “Yes, well I outsourced a market research division located in Bangalore to call our youngsters at inconvenient times and find out what is it that they really want and how best we can seduce them into the ranks” 

 

Des: “And…?” 

 

Liam “ They like MTV, and  play stations, and such, so then right, imagine it – I got Saatchi and Saatchi to do these slick posters that look like a scene from an online gaming website….And, no wait there’s more- I have this DVD with urban music and …before you ask-yes, I have a distribution strategy figured…I thought, right, the best way would be to go to schools in areas of high unemployment and low income and tell them all about travelling albeit with bullet proof vests on …and it would be exactly like a Gap year for working class kids, they would learn so much –language skills, team work, how to amputate your own arm….I mean sure there is a small chance you might get blown up by a roadside bomb, but hey, you could just as well get knocked down by a bus in Islington ….” 

 

Des: “Brilliant, Fox, old chap…you’ve out done yourself this time, so what’s the problem?” 

 

Liam: “Well it’s these darn geriatric hippy school teachers, I mean how dare they show concern for their pupils by pointing out the realities of state sponsored pro-war propaganda?” 

 

Des : “Traitors, absolutely, we could teach these kids so much!” 

 

Liam: “Oh, but I have this new idea in order to divert more resources our way. It involves launching a firing squad to take out those treacherous Samaritans for their part in talking hundreds of depressives out of suicide…after all don’t they know the nation is rapidly expanding and we need all the resources we can get to fund the front line in Basra? Gosh, I wish they would zip it with their airy-fairy anxieties for vulnerable members of society, and show more support for our boys in the Military.” 

 

 

I got out my travel pass as I saw the number 31 approaching.

 

As I got on the bus I heard Rolo the Soldier say his well rehearsed lines to the passengers getting off; “Big Issue, mate?” These words never reached the attention of whomever he spoke to, but Rolo the Soldier continued to repeat them over, and over, and over, even when the doors had closed. Perseverance, patience, resilience, the list goes on -the lessons you learn from the Forces are indeed indisputable.