Marksman unit

When we were at Fan Ling no gambling/betting was allowed because a man could loose his wages over the turn of a card, so officers had to inspect barracks for gambling devices. One of the officers had a face itch and scratched and the other officer had a cough. Yes the betting was how many times did he scratch and how many times did the other cough during inspection. The officers always wondered why each individual member of the rank and file took so much interest in them personally during the inspection as a missed count cough/scratch could cost you money. Interesting?   Just an amusing ditty that one happened upon.

My counterpart in the SDU at Fan Ling this time was Ian Raybold and we oftain had a few jungle stories after hunting possible armed illegals on the border. It was a sad day when he returned to the UK. When I was in the UK  about 1990  I was at Whitby, North Yorks  shooting international for the police and who should grab me was my friend Ian Raybold, in the Yorks Police still shooting and as big as he ever was. So to all who knew him, he is alive and well and doing good. So a story. I was in the 'woods' near to the border hunting illegals and camped. In the night I was bitten in the eye by a mossie and my face had swollen up so I couldnt see out my left eye. Feeling miserable I went to the camp cooking pot and burst out laughing as one of the other lads, Steve Leuty had been bitten in both eyes and was blind. We had to be medi-vacced into a local village for treatment at a jockey club clinic. The two of us had to walk hand in hand across the road into the clinic. The half blind leading the blind. This village (?) was one of the communist strong holds of the 67 riots and didnt like the europeans; anyway we were seen, lowered the tousers and a little fat local nurse who looked like Mao Tse Tung got me bent over the table and the needle went in like they teach bayonet thrusts, she even had a smile of her face as she did it. Next of course was Steve, who blind, got a rough idea of what was to come and tried to escape but she still got him across the back of a chair he was trying to put in-between himself and her and all in the comfined space of a cubicle with me in there as well and with his pleading face looking towards me and a silent OOOWWW on his mouth, the needle held by the fist and head high, and a suden downwards stab into his bum was done and that quietened him down. We were then released to the amusement of the other clinic staff looking on and who either wanted to watch or have a go themselves. The antihystamine kicked in and we were back on the trails next morning. Great place that clinic stops you feeling ill everytime you think about it. Steve Leuty wanted to know why I didnt tell him what was about to happen but why should I spoil the fun well, it cheered up the nurse and me. Hope you enjoyed that -- he didn't and come to think about it neither did I. Good times though.

And how the tins were buried deep but there were so many that the pit became raised so a grave was created and made to the departed San Miguel. It appeared so realistic that the locals from the near-by tanning factories kept away because of spirits, well it was but not of the kind they were thinking.

The talk of camps reminded me of this, nearly forgot. We were in woods practising Gurkha 'movement without noise'. At the end of the day we settled down. When someone takes a small spade out and goes off away from camp you dont question why because they are going for a poo. You find somewhere out of the way perhaps with a tree/bush for back support, dig your little hole, squat, keep a look out, do your business, finish look at it to make sure there is no blood in it (strained insides) or infection (the runs or bug) and then you know there is nothing, health wise, that you need treatment for. One night one of the men went off, found a small bush and did the above. A team of three of us followed. Two for the main op. and one for the oversight, (obs)  we crept behind the bush (remember, no noise) and slid our spade under his bum. He was healthy and did a fair sized one which obviously he felt/smelt whilst he did it. and we caught the lot, pulled away and faded into the night. Have finished he turned around to examine and there was.........nothing. First a very quick search of the trousers in case they hadn't been pulled down enough, then the undies, then trouser legs to boot tops in case it had slipped down the inside then he undertook a SOCO examine of the hole, surrounds, bush incase it had 'shot out' into the undergrowth and after about 15 mins of fingertip search..nothing and he returned  to site looking back into the trees and a very perplexed person, whilst we at base knew 'nothing'. He said nothing and neither did we. The purpose of this story is that even at night and in an empty quiet area we were still able to get within 24" of him and conduct an extraction with out noise. Such was the training and lessons given to us by the Gurkhas that was adopted and utilised by Supt. Bill Duncanson in Marksman Unit incidents over the years and later demonstrated to and followed on by the SDU, as their new modern thinking instructors took on this type of training and raised their training and tactics to new heights. Adopt, adapt, improve. They did and their improvements were out of this world and were needed to cope with the new urban open terrorist/criminal incidents coming onto the streets that they had to deal with.