I am a gunner and in theory my shots should be true and timely,  with my observations keen.

I felt like a real fucktard wobbling like a drunk after saluting the Colonel,  but I think I managed half decent on the parade.  Marching got fucked up because of buddy in front who was off,  but aside from that I was quite pleased at myself.

I also think my general salute kicked ass and will continue to think it did unless I get an influx of comments from anonymous course staff saying those two salutes sucked equine genitals.

My powers of deduction are indicating that the Course Officer doubts my blogging skill and prowess.  Let’s be truthful though – if I was a female blog I would shag the daylights out of my blog.

I’ll never forget the parade practice day when it was windy as could be,  and the Course Warrant Officer’s beret was sticking straight up almost and we were all having difficulty from not laughing.

I’ll also not forget Mr I Have A Degree.   We went to the museum and with his nose in the air tried to demonstrate the depths of his education,  but he basically got OWNED by the museum director.  I looked around and at least two others were rolling their eyes.

Sir – I finally metriculated.  From WATC Shilo.

Getting British army uniform for my tenth birthday cemented it (even though my beret was fucked up).

I have just come back from nearly a week in the field putting into practice what I’ve spent nearly a month learning.

One thing I’ve noticed is the stark difference between instructor teaching methods in each of the gun detachments.  I’m happy to say 15B was consistently the first in and out of action until the last day when our sight was all fucked up.   It got to the point where the Safety Officer would come and wait by our gun because he knew we would be first recorded.

I was ordered to record the gun one morning and I was very pleased with my performance.   Considering I’m new on the C3 I think I did it brilliantly.   One morning I did the check bearing drill and traversed twice instead of just once after applying the bearing but I fixed it.

I’m finally a trained soldier. I’m proud to be a Canadian Artillery Gunner.

We’ve been given the day off and I’m a bit at a loss what to do.  Going from extremely regimented and strict daytime schedules to having a whole day to myself is a bit strange.  I don’t know what to do with this small bit of freedom.  A Dry Base Pass is definitely better than Confined to Barracks but the nightlife in Shilo isn’t exactly happening.

Without going into any detail… the course has plenty of stress factors which are designed to judge how a candidate performs under stress.  Reckon I’m dealing with it reasonably well – I’ve passed all my tests so far but my confidence before each test has hit rock bottom.  We’ve got one more test in the field after which I’ll be a qualified soldier and the culmination of a 23 year dream will be complete.

On another note… on the home front a development may have happened which I’m unsure how to react to.  It seems promising but at the same time it’s scary.

My mate Leona moved down to Florida which really sucks.  At least she’s away from Dirtbag Dan.  What kind of a guy cuts someone else’s grass and not have any emotional baggage about doing it?  Told him a while back that if he ever cut my grass again I would definitely not be very happy with him.  Leona’s girl is pretty awesome.  At least they’ll be happy.

Isn’t it funny how Sikh’s from any country in the world that speak English have a ‘Sikh’ accent?  As far as I know, Sikhism is the only religion I’ve come across that has a distinct accent – Sikh’s in England sound exactly the same as Sikh’s in Canada.

Home in a week.  I get to see my babies!

The Gurkha Regiment in the British Army dates back to the fighting between 1814–1816 when the Nepalese Gurkha army fought against the British East India Company army.  Fighting them to a stalemate, the British made a deal with the Nepalese to recruit from them and it all carried on from there.

As is evident by three Gurkha’s receiving the Military Cross from the Queen, and numerous times throughout history – these foreign soldiers who still are not regarded highly enough by the British Army are a valuable asset.

The French Foreign Legion are the tough nuts of the French military.  Granted they were used rather ruthlessly in Algeria, but now anytime France needs to flex its military might or get its citizens out of harms way they don’t send Pierre or Olivier from the Parisien suburbs.  It’s the dudes who wear the white hats.

Check the Related Links for an interesting news article about two identical twin brothers.  One joined the British Army; the other was refused and joined the French Foreign Legion where his acts of bravery and gallantry earned him France’s highest award for valour – the ‘Legion D’honneur’.

I am a perfect example of the point I am making.  I am a foreigner in the Canadian military and would at any point not hesitate to bear arms and defend Canada and its interests with my life, but yet there are huge amounts of Canadians who would not and are not bearing arms for Canada.

Foreigners searching for a meaningful and useful way to give back are an extremely valuable and untapped resource.  It would be nice seeing other nations across the globe taking advantage of that.

I am required to be very careful about the things I write, especially to do with the Canadian Forces and so I will not be expressing a personal opinion, but I would like to point out that it is very easy to judge a battlefield decision which was made under extreme stress and danger, whilst you are far from the battlefield and sitting down perfectly safe at a desk.

Also I would like to point out that if I had been in a firefight and then came across a mortally wounded Taliban fighter who had one leg torn off, the other held on by skin only with a huge gaping stomach wound I am sure my urge to make a humanitarian decision would be very strong.  It would be especially strong if the wounded enemy would not have survived until the medevac helicopter arrived, and if calling in a helicopter would have put countless more lives at risk.

Scott Taylor wrote an article for the CF Magazine ‘Esprit  De Corps’ and in it he said:

While the gesture may have indeed been a sincere act of humanity, there is nothing in Canada’s criminal code or military justice system which allows military personnel to play God in any given life or death circumstance.

However, I can’t voice an opinion regarding Capt Semrau’s alleged actions which really sucks.

I am glad that a brilliant and decorated Canadian soldier was found not guilty of the charges.  I would have like to see him exonerated of all charges though.

Having left plenty of comments on Justin’s blogs, only to have them not published, I am quite happy he got what was coming to him.  Being demoted back to England.  For me personally that would be a wonderful thing, but for Justin – according to the theme of many of his blog posts it isn’t so great.

In the biography on his old blog on BBC News website it says:

There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than Washington DC. Sexier cities do exist of course, and less socially-divided places as well, but nowhere is as powerful, as full of news, and as vitally important to the lives and futures of us all. I have been here for six years and intend to stay for 600. My youngest child is American and my older ones sound American. And that’s fine by me.

Many a time I got very angry with Justin as it seemed he had lost sight of where he came from.  Frequently expressing anti-British sentiment and constantly poking fun at all things British it seemed like he was trying too hard to be something he never would be – American.  If his biography and blogs was anything to go by, I’d say that he finally got what he didn’t want and when push came to shove, his whole ‘America is the greatest’ idea theory went straight down the toilet.  Instead of sticking by his desire to stay in America he meekly got demoted back to England.

What bothers me more is he acts like a British authority on America; as if British people don’t know a damn thing about life in America.  The thing that puts the icing on the cake is that in an interview with the U.K’s Independent newspaper, he acts like he’s glad to be back in England, when most people know the wannabe Yank is probably plotting a paint bomb attack in Wood Lane.

I hope it causes him to have a nervous breakdown moving back to Britain.  Too bad he didn’t get treated like Hugh Laurie who found it impossible to find work in England after selling out and moving to the States to film ‘House’.

If both of them had gone to America and stayed proud of being British, with Webb leaving out the constant digs at British life and sensibilities, and Laurie either not using that horrendous American accent or perfecting it – then my loathing for both of the ‘wannabe’ Americans wouldn’t exist.

Fire Discipline is the language of Fire Control.  It consists of words, phrases, rules and conventions which have specific meaning and which result in some definite action at the guns.

Then there’s things like the GPO Sequence of Orders, Must Orders, Types of Engagement, Types of Rounds and even more good stuff.

I’m a little bit nervous about going on course again, but I’m also pumped because I bought myself a pair of SWAT boots which are going to make things a whole lot more comfortable, as well as our annual 13km rucksack march.  I also bought some boot bands, a boonie hat, a waterproof pen and paper pad and a water bladder with my last name and last three digits sewn onto it.  The water bladder and holder are going to awesome for on and off duty.

Just found out my children’s mother is now engaged.  I’ve got a few opinions on how I think that will go but I’ll keep that to myself.  Time will tell I guess.  Her happiness is all I care about.  If she is happy then my babies are happy.

I’ve been hanging out with someone lately quite a lot that quite a few people have a negative opinion about.  It bothers me the way some people won’t even be around this mate of mine.  Far too many people are judgmental.  What right does any mere imperfect mortal have to cast moral judgments upon any other human being who isn’t hurting anybody?  I’m very particular and picky about who I hang out with.  The first and foremost criteria I look for is whether or not they get along with my children.  I’ve faltered on that thing one time and that person hasn’t been a friend for a long time.  Then I look to see whether they are open minded.  If they’re not then I usually can’t be friends with them.  Lastly I look to see if they’re truthful.  If they lie then they’re gone!

There was an incident that made me realise again the joys of having children. I had a cup of coffee which I was drinking at home and had nearly finished.  There was a bit left in the mug when my daughter Alex asked for a sip so I gave her the rest.  After the cup was empty I pretended to cry that she had drunk it all.

So in perfect innocence Alex spat the coffee back into the mug and offered it to me with a beautiful smile and said “Here you go, daddy!”

It was heart warming.  It is situations like that which make me realise that no matter how much they stress me out, and no matter how much sometimes I wish I was back in London as a 21 year old – having children is a gift and parenthood is the greatest privilege a person can have.

Obviously that is followed by being a member of the Canadian Forces hahaha.

One of the things that happened was VERY negative and the only emotion generated was pure and utter shock.  Fear, anger, hatred, sadness were not there – just shock.

I realised that the type of shock I felt must be similar to the emotions felt when an adult abuses a child for the first time.  Children are born innocent and it should be that way forever, but when a sicko touches or beats a child – all that blind trust is disappears in the blink of an eye and the child is left with shock and bewilderment.  In an adult the shock exists but the bewilderment is replaced by complete and pure deflation.

It was the same way last night.  All the trust and friendship disappeared in the blink of an eye irrevocably.

One of the things I love about myself is the ability to bury emotions and carry on.  This is what will happen here.   I started new two times before and it gets progressively easier each time.

Upon asking a few people about him it turns out he’s not a bad guy, but according to two separate people he’s a major pot head who smokes weed all the time.  I may have had a lot of flaws like putting my job before my girlfriend, or when I was angry myself being blind to the hurt and frustration she had – but at least I’m not on something.  I guess we all have our flaws.

It did irritate me and hurt a little bit when one of my former girlfriends said that I’m a mean person. I can say mean things in the heat of passion, but I don’t set out to hurt anyone purposely.  I don’t think I’m mean – it struck me as rather ironic someone being mean by telling me I’m mean.  I suspect that she didn’t think I was mean when we were together (unless she confused rude with mean).

Finding out who he was bothered me as I was directly lied to (as opposed to not answering, or being economical with the truth), but it’s still an awesome thing being in the know.

Now that I know who he is – I’m free.  I’m no longer wondering if she left me for a woman abusing drunk, or a crack dealer.  Life goes on with freedom and laughter.