An Officer and a Gentleman Wanted: A Romantic Comedy

by Beverley Watts

  Still, as long as he washes before Monday.

  1205 Back in my office after discussing said impending visit to Saudi. Not quite sure how I feel about it (beyond the obvious). We’ll be staying in Riyadh for 3 days and during that time I will be present at the Navy to Navy Staff talks (bit like wallpaper is present on a wall) where I will sit quietly until I’m wheeled out to do my English Language Presentation for the King Fahd Naval Academy.

  I’m very likely to be the only women there (no pressure…)

  I’m feeling a bit out of my depth if I’m honest. I know there’s nothing wrong with having butterflies – it’s getting them to fly in formation that’s the problem.

  1715 The week’s finally over and I’m sitting quietly in the office – just me and Nelson. I go over to his chair and get him to shift over so we squash in it together. He’s quite willing to plonk himself half on to my lap and he grumbles softly as he gets himself comfortable before sighing loudly and resting his head on my shoulder.

  His weight forces me back into the seat (not to mention his doggy smell) but I really don’t mind and I take comfort in his warmth and the feeling of connectedness between us. Nelson doesn’t need me to be anything other than I am. He doesn’t care if I’m a few pounds overweight; whether I’m a fitness buff; if my make-up’s on correctly or if I’m doing my job properly...

  He just loves me as I am. And that’s what I want. I want a man to love me warts and all.

  I wonder if Rob could be that man. Has he got what it takes to see through the public front I put on to the real person underneath?

  Can I allow him to see me naked (both metaphorically and physically...?)

  Will he ever want me to go camping in the Lotus?

  Only one way to find out....

  Chapter Seven: Nelson’s Victory

  Week 7

  Monday 19 October

  0745 All the excitement of last week is now well and truly forgotten. We’re now in to Week 7 – half way through the term and the language level of a few of our International Cadets is beginning to cause serious concern (and the buck stops here – no panic).

  Unfortunately I can’t produce miracles (walking on water definitely not one of my many talents…) I really need to give Commander NTE a heads up as to who is unlikely to make the grade by the end of term, so I’ve called a staff meeting to discuss our strategy.

  Unfortunately HRH is not improving at the pace we’d hoped (he is improving – slowly - and if he were to stay with us for the rest of his life, he might well be good enough to complete the RNYOC...) His Embassy (not sure if they’ve actually mentioned anything to his father) are not going to be happy to hear that their prodigy has not suddenly become fluent.

  Still, trying to look on the bright side, he is now able to actually iron and button up his shirt so you could say (if you were really desperate) that we’re going in the right direction…

  And not just HRH, there are a few others causing concern.

  Hence the staff meeting. Think I’ll pop over to the Naafi and pick up a few donuts to help moral.

  0815 Tea and donuts in hand, we’ve isolated the cadets who are currently linguistically challenged and devise a cunning plan to ensure that their level of English is good enough when they commence Officer Training (the main gist of which is to inform the PTB that the cadets need to spend another term with us first…)

  Not ideal I know. The problem is (and I know I’m repeating myself here) that in theory, all the cadets accepted on to the Pre-RNYOC should have a certain level of English so that they can cope with the more advanced military language.

  In theory…

  I finish off the meeting by informing Heather and Andy who are accompanying me on ABLE for the day on Wednesday (both drew the short straws) that they should head up to Naval Stores by 1700 today to pick up their gear (we have been informed by the Leadership Department that we have to be fully kitted out before venturing up onto Dartmoor (did I mention that I they’re not too keen on the idea?)

  However, I’m determined not to be put off by their negativity and intend to head up to Stores straight after Stand Easy (really hoping they’ve got a pair of combats short enough to fit me).

  1035 As I head down The Corridor, I can hear the commotion on the Quarterdeck indicating that the cadets are getting ready for their stint on ABLE.

  Quite exciting really – can’t wait to get stuck in (metaphorically speaking you understand).

  The Wardroom is bustling, filled for the most part with officers dressed in combat gear. I can see Rob chatting to Commander NTE. It looks important so I don’t disturb him. This is the first time I’ve seen him out of naval uniform. The combats suit him; just needs some blackout paint on his face and he’d look like Bruce Willis.

  Did I mention I have a vivid imagination?

  Just before he leaves Rob pops over to say hi and asks me if I’m going to Trafalgar Night on Thursday.

  Trafalgar Night is a (very) boisterous Mess Dinner held once a year to celebrate the British Royal Navy’s memorable victory at the Battle of Trafalgar on the 21 October 1805. Lead by Admiral Viscount Lord Nelson aboard HMS Victory, the defeat of the French and Spanish fleets was possibly the RN’s finest hour (Lord Nelson’s too apart from the fact that he died at the end of it!) Of course we’ve never let the French forget it and Nelson is still spoken of reverently in naval circles today (as well as having dogs named after him…)

  I can’t actually believe I’d forgotten all about it – must have been all the excitement over the last week.

  Of course I am going, would never willingly miss it. It really is great fun. Over dinner, the battle is re-enacted (obviously not literally) with the enthusiastic participation of the French Exchange Officer (normally takes several glasses of wine and port to get the enthusiasm going mind you) taking the part of Admiral Villeneuve of France.

  I tell Rob that if we don’t meet Wuthering Heights style on a bleak windswept part of Dartmoor, I’ll see him on the Quarterdeck on Thursday night.

  Before he goes, he asks me if I’m taking Nelson with me on Wednesday. Apparently lots of the officers take their (well behaved) dogs with them.

  I tell him that I hadn’t thought about it, but as I walk back down The Corridor, I begin to warm to the idea and picture us both striding out over the moor, man (or rather woman) and beast in total harmony…

  Maybe I will take him. But first more important things – I pop in to the Planning Department to plan for Thursday with Sarah.

  1200 Have just got back from Stores. They actually had combats in ‘very short’ – yey. Felt like Ellen Ripley in Alien when I was trying them on (minus the Uzi machine gun and scary dentally challenged 20 foot monster obviously).

  The major problem is that my Bergen is probably bigger than I am and it was a challenge just to pick it up. I asked if the sleeping bag was really necessary but was told to ask that again at 3am in the event that I get lost up on Dartmoor (considered myself duly reprimanded – now wondering whether I should actually tether myself to the officer I’ll be shadowing…)

  My office is crammed full of said survival gear and Nelson for one is not very impressed – especially since most of it is on his chair. He’s currently lying at my feet and sighing very loudly each time I accidently kick him.

  Actually beginning to wonder whether this really was one of my better ideas...

  Still, can’t back out now.

  Think I need a fortifying lunch to get me in proper survival mode (carbohydrates obviously the order of the day).

  1400 The College is now like a ghost town. Nearly everyone has decamped up on to Dartmoor.

  Which is just as well really as a couple of minutes ago I received the email with the Commando Challenge pictures attached.

  I look like something out of the Night of the Living Dead.

  I’ve got 3 days to bury them…

  1700 Think I’m going to suggest to John that a drink in the Cherub might be in order. Really beginning to
feel a bit bogged down.

  And to top it all, Saudi Arabia is less than 2 weeks away.

  Sometimes alcohol really is the only answer...

  Tuesday 20 October

  0800 Things are no better this morning – I really don’t know what to tackle first.

  Since a glass of wine is out of the question this early in the day (even for me!) I think another visit to the Naafi is in order. And, if I go the long way round and take Nelson for a walk I can then convince myself that the donut I’m intending to eat is actually zero calories.

  It may be necessary to go the really long way round (like right round the College perimeter).

  I head out of the College dragging a reluctant Nelson (definitely not sure whether taking him tomorrow is a good idea).

  Feeling very self-righteous…

  0900 2 donuts later, self-righteousness is replaced by queasiness – along with a healthy dose of guilt.

  Nelson on the other hand appears completely guilt and nausea free if his snoring is anything to go by.

  Still, I’ll be having lots of exercise tomorrow. I glance over at my comatose dog and make the decision there and then that if I’ve got to do it, he can too.

  1650 I have a quick meeting with Heather and Andy to make sure we’ve got all our ducks in a row.

  We’re being picked up outside gym at 0700 tomorrow morning by a member of the leadership team who warned us that if we we’re not ready on the dot, he’ll go without us (not sure if he was joking – did I mention they’re not too keen on the idea?)

  2200 I’m all ready. My combat gear is laid out on my bedroom chair and now all I need is a good night’s sleep...

  2300 Still awake

  0130 Still awake

  0245 Still awake…

  Wednesday 21 October

  0655 I’m standing outside the gym looking like an extra from Shaun of the Dead. I’ve had approximately 3 hours sleep and l feel like death warmed up.

  It’s also bloody freezing – the weather has decided to turn wintery (I murderously contemplate how many cadets have been ritually sacrificed by the leadership department to try and put us off...)

  Nelson is not looking too happy with the situation either. His tail is so far between his legs he could stick it in his mouth and he keeps looking at me reproachfully.

  I harden my heart. Lassie wouldn’t have looked so miserable.

  0705 The bastard’s late. I know he’s done this deliberately and I’m determined to get my own back – just not sure how yet. The 4 of us huddle in the gym doorway as I fantasize about my thermals back in my underwear drawer!

  Things can only get better…

  0900 Finally arrive up on Dartmoor.

  It’s now raining.

  We park outside ‘the hut’ which is the centre of operations and after grabbing our survival gear, (with no help from our taciturn driver I might add) we head inside. I say ‘we’. Unfortunately Nelson (being a dog – a fact I think he forgets sometimes) is relegated to the porch.

  Needless to say, he’s not happy.

  Inside the hut is cozy and warm and I’m tempted to suggest we just stay here and do crosswords.

  The leadership liaison officer is waiting for us and is actually quite pleasant – he even offers us a cup of coffee and he does a really good job hiding his smirk at the sight of me in combat gear (it has to be said, I do look like a Rambo gnome).

  2 cups of coffee later moral is back up and we’re raring to go (ok that might be a slight exaggeration…)

  We head outside and I grab Nelson’s lead and we’re off to meet up with the team we’ll be watching.

  But first need to put on the bloody Bergen.

  5 minutes later I’m ready. Pack on back and dog in hand – lead me to it…

  1030 Things are not going well. It’s taken us nearly 20 minutes to locate the team we’ll be shadowing and for all that time I’ve been bouncing around in a Land rover with a completely panicked Nelson doing his best to sit on my knee. Only the Bergen propped up next to me is stopping us both from ending up on the floor.

  On climbing down, Nelson is a miserable shivering wreck and looking at me as though he can’t believe I could’ve actually put him through this.

  I’ve got no sympathy - my backside feels like it’s been used as a punch bag.

  Ignoring Nelson, I drag my Bergen back on to my back and glance over at Andy and Heather to see how they’re doing. To my disgust, they really appear to be enjoying it.

  I’m obviously more of a Champagne and Caviar kind of girl (although, I’ve never actually had Caviar and to be honest don’t really fancy it…)

  1045 Ok so we’ve finally located our team and it includes 4 International cadets – excellent. I shrug off my Bergen (that is I allow it to land on the floor) and get out my notebook and pen.

  This is what it’s all about. Nelson is tied to the Bergen and appears to have gotten over his travel sickness – indicated by the fact that he’s busy sniffing what looks suspiciously like sheep poo. I can almost hear him thinking ‘Mmm yummy’.

  We listen intently to the task in hand and watch for our Internationals’ grasp of the English used. Happily none of them have a look of complete bafflement but I have to say that neither are any of them taking any kind of initiative. I can see the officer’s frustration. Every task has a nominated leader who is (obviously) assessed for his leadership qualities and the rest are measured for their ability to function within a team.

  In no time the task is completed and I’ve already made enough notes to create a small novel.

  Time for the next stance.

  I look around (just on the off chance that anyone fancies carrying but strangely enough no takers) and then I heave my Bergen back on to my back.

  I decide to leave Nelson tied to its side – easier than hanging on to him, and just pray that the next stance isn’t too far.

  1115 Nelson is acting in a suspiciously well behaved manner. His nose is to the ground and he’s trailing behind me really nicely.

  Not good…

  I can’t easily turn around to see exactly what he’s up to and decide that as long as he’s still on the end of the lead, what can go wrong?

  Of course I’m about to find out…

  I feel a tug on the lead and pause. Awkwardly turning round I see that Nelson has his head in hole. Tutting loudly, I tug on the lead and all of a sudden a rabbit shoots out right past Nelson’s nose and my feet.

  Nelson of course gives chase.

  My shriek is cut off as the lead jerks the Bergen, spinning me around like a top. Then I fall flat on my back with the Bergen underneath me. The lead is still tied to its side with a frantic Nelson panting at the end of it.

  I look just like a turtle and everybody is staring and trying very hard not to laugh. Nelson is still urgently tugging on the lead as someone finally comes forward to get me off my back.

  However, the Bergen’s so heavy I can’t get up and I’m left stranded like some kind of granny version of the teenage mutant ninja turtles.

  2 more cadets come forward to help get me on to my feet.

  Oh God, things can’t get any worse can they?

  They finally manage to flip me over – extracting me from the sodding Bergen proving to be a mission impossible.

  So now I ‘m lying on my stomach, trying to lever myself into a sitting position with the continued help of the 2 cadets (I make a mental note that it isn’t any of the Internationals – maybe I should re-think my hard line strategy…)

  But Nelson has other ideas. He drags on the lead and pulls me head first into a ditch, the bottom of which is a bog (ok not a toilet but just as bad) where I’m now stuck like a plug in a drain pipe.

  I’ll kill him.

  The sniggering has now got louder and I know I distinctly heard the click of a camera.

  I’m now seconds away from crying.

  Rob’s bound to hear about this.

  I tug viciously back on the lead as I’m helped out of the muc
k and Nelson actually has the temerity to look back at me and wag his tail.

  I really WILL kill him.

  The officer in charge comes over and asks if I want a lift back to the hut. I can tell he’s trying so hard not to laugh.

  I gather what dignity I have left and wave him away saying that the mud is no consequence.

  However, practically all my notes are now unreadable.

  1430 We finally arrive at Ditsworthy Warren for the concluding stance of the day. I managed to take copious notes during 2 earlier exercises and the mud has now dried to a hard crust that is covering the front of me from head to foot.

  Nelson has behaved impeccably.

  Which just goes to show that he knows what bloody trouble he’s in.

  1445 The gist of this task is that the cadets have to build a temporary shelter for a couple of hundred ‘refugees’ who’ve been rendered homeless (not quite sure by what).

  It takes about half hour for the team to put up a temporary tarpaulin shelter and although we follow the various team members around, it’s very difficult to assess the language used – particularly as it appears to involve lots of shouting of words that we wouldn’t actually want to include in any English lessons…

  Nevertheless we are now seated inside the resulting ‘temporary shelter’ and tucking in to Snickers and hot coffee (this is definitely a plus side to doing lots of exercise).

  I’m beginning to feel a lot more sanguine about the whole ditch incident – even going so far as to laugh about it a little, which Nelson definitely senses because he’s worked up the nerve to sit up and beg for a bit of Snicker (in his dreams).

  Then all of a sudden the lights go out…

  1530 I’m lying on the floor of the ‘temporary shelter’ which turns out was a bit more ‘temporary’ than anybody guessed. The doctor is asking me how many fingers he’s holding up.

  Apparently one of the poles holding the structure up collapsed directly on to my head

  I frown up at him and, resisting the urge to tell him exactly what he can do with his 3 fingers (obviously haven’t lost the ability to count which I understand is good news).