Wednesday,
3 September 2003. Lympstone, Devon, UK
"Sergeant
Wilson," the platoon commander called out and Col turned,
saluting.
"Yes,
Sir?"
"I'd
like to see you in my office."
"Yes,
Sir." Bloody one pip wonder. Twenty-nothing and barely
passed out of the officer course, now proving himself on
his first post. Commissioned, just because he'd been born
with a silver spoon ... but Col swallowed the grumble and
made his way to the Lieutenant's office.
"Please
take a seat." Col did, noticing the stack of papers
on the officer's desk. "I'd like you to look through
some of the applications, especially the equality forms."
The second lieutenant produced a smaller bundle. "And
in particular this one." Col found a piece of paper
under his nose and he took it, quickly scanning through.
"Triathlete, not bad." Muttered to himself, "Graduate?
What the hell's a student ..." and then he came to
the next column. Reading it once, twice, a third time, just
to make sure. "Homosexual?" He stared at the officer.
"You must be kidding me."
"Apparently
not."
"I
hope the lad keeps that to himself."
"One
would hope so, wouldn't one?" The lieutenant shrugged
his shoulders and sighed. "I advise you to keep an
eye on him. The recruit sounds extremely promising; high
achievements in sports and intellectually above average.
In fact, I was told they tried to recruit him directly into
an officer career, but he refused to take the chance."
"Why?"
Col studied the form once more, then placed the bundle in
his lap.
"According
to the report from the recruiting officer, he was adamant
that while a commission was certainly the ultimate goal
of anyone, he wanted to experience the ranks, first."
"And
you believe that bullshit?" Col stood up. The 'anyone'
was grating, and he felt targeted. Demoted, with no chance
at this stage of his career to get close to a commission.
But then he'd never been officer material. Too stuck in
the dirt and best suited to the midst of the action. 'Bulldog'
alright. They'd got his nickname spot on.
"Why
wouldn't I believe it? What other motives might be feasible?"
"I
reckon the guy's got something to prove." Col shrugged,
kept the forms under his arm. "And if he isn't wise,
and I don't think he is, judging from that little tick in
the wrong box, he'll cause a hell of a lot of trouble."
"Then
watch him. Besides, we cannot be seen to discriminate against
him nor anyone else, because of religion, gender, race..."
"Sexuality,"
Col finished for the lieutenant. "I know, I know."
"Indeed.
If we don't take care, we will get into trouble with the
equality officers, and we cannot afford to bring ourselves
into disrepute."
"Of
course not, Sir. I will keep an eye on the recruit."
Col saluted and left the office.
Christian
Thompson. Twenty-one. Six foot. Green eyes. Brown hair.
He'd
already memorised the vitals.
Basic
Training 
