GAY GORDONS, GIRL GUIDES AND BOY SCOUTS

Gay Gordons, Girl Guides and Boy Scouts

BY LEONID GORSKIY

'Curiouser and curiouser!' said Alice as she wended her way into 'Wonderland'. The unreconstructed comrades, the Cold War warriors, the gnarled vodka-sodden veterans honed on the bloodstained boulders of the Hindu Kush and even the boys who became men overnight in the ruins of Grozny, now echo her words as the emasculation of the once feared and fabled British Army gathers pace. They laugh and rub their frozen hands with glee - "More vodka!"
Can it really be true that a new 'caring image' is to be reflected by all ranks? Has the soft caress of womanhood in battledress now reached those parts, which once were no more than a source of wet dreams in a rat infested trench or the steel coffin of a tank turret?
No more than ten years ago, Red Army plans for an unfulfilled pre-emptive thrust across the European plains to the Channel coast, took careful note of the British 1 Corps sector. It may have been the smallest but in the eyes of Soviet tacticians it was undoubtedly the toughest. The American sector was bigger and rougher in terrain, but their troops were much softer than the British. Now I am not so sure! A bunch of caring girl guides, boy scouts and gays don't scare me!

Of course Western tanks and infantry carriers have always been more sophisticated than the old fashioned, reliable T72s with which Warsaw Pact armies could potentially swamp their adversaries by sheer weight of numbers, even if there weren't enough maps and radios to equip every tank commander. The British relied on superior fire-power and equipment, better training and morale, but above all their fearsome reputation gained down the ages from Agincourt to Alamein, from the Kyber to Kuching. It was once wise to avoid the hornets' nest of 1 (Br) Corps.

Now it seems that 'Cool Britannia' is minded to put Florence Nightingale in the frontline and man her tanks with gays. Imagine Florence leading the charge of the Light Brigade! And the thought of a friendly wireless operator's hand on one's thigh as he twiddles knobs to get better reception in the confines of a tank, is vastly more chilling than the prospect of being hit by a rocket, unless of course one is gay! As for morale in mixed units, it might be fine for exercises but surely not in battle when comradely spirit is at a premium, and where sexual passion has no part. The 'fog of war' would no doubt descend as usual but a 'bugger's muddle' would surely ensue! Smooching under fire and holding hands in no-man's land, don't somehow carry the same ring as twelve inches (what a whopper) of cold steel and hand-to-hand in Stalingrad. But if it's your ring you are worried about, don't volunteer for the armoured corps or submarines. In fact don't volunteer at all! A country that has become so degenerate is surely not worth risking life, limb or any other part to preserve. 'Jaw jaw is better than war war' and whore whore is better than both!

Inter-service relations seem to be practised not so much in the field, but in bed where an army of 'little pink friends' can be deployed to swell the profits of Durex and Duracel. The Able Seaman still flashes but not with his signal lamp. The words of Joyce not Monty now 'rule OK!'

So the great British Army, shorn like Sampson, bereft of its battalions and its fighting spirit, will be sucked into the Brussels controlled WEU, whose aim will be to appropriate Britain's nuclear deterrent and render her totally dependent. The new SAS motto 'Who cares wins' will ensure that the IRA and other enemies can rampage at will and with impunity. It will be 'Sodom today, Gomorrah tomorrow!' and our Russian bear will smile as well he might.