Wilco- Lone Wolf 1 by Geoff Wolak

Author:Geoff Wolak
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

Monday morning, and I figured I should go see Fl Lt Peters.

‘You discharged a firearm!’ he hissed, about to have a heart attack.

‘Not to worry, sir, all above board and correct procedure.’

‘You did it just to piss me off for putting you on guard duty...’

‘No, sir, and that’s a very negative view. Irish gentlemen said he lost his ID, insisted I let him in, then rammed the gate.’

‘Well, that’s not allowed, officer or not. Next time, drag him from the car and punch him instead!’

‘I’ll go see the base commander now.’

I stepped outside, an MP jeep pulling up.

‘Base commander wants to see you.’

I jumped in, stroked the dog, and off we set. We arrived just as the MPs dragged a very dishevelled Irish gentleman in handcuffs, an Army MP Captain now present in greens. All were led into a large side room.

The base commander stepped in with several senior officers, and he looked over our Irish prisoner. Quietly, he began, ‘You drive up to the gate with no ID on you - losing it being an offence, you were ten times over the legal limit to drive a car on a British road, you shout threats to be let in and then ram my gate.

‘Pilot Officer O’Leary, your time as an officer in the RAF is at an end.’ The base commander glanced at the MP captain, and the captain took away his unshaven prisoner.

The base commander faced the corporal and sergeant that I had dealt with Saturday night. Whilst facing them, he said, ‘Wilco, was proper procedure followed?’

‘Yes, sir. Three verbal warnings, threat to shoot, but when he tried to drive around the gate after ramming it I shot out his tyres.’

‘Apparently, you would have been within your rights to shoot him...’

‘I would never do so unless as a very last resort, sir.’

‘Good to know. And did the MPs at any time breach standard procedure, or give you a hard time?’

‘No, sir, they were boringly by the book and stated regulations to me.’

‘Well, boringly by the book is what they’re there for.’ He faced the MPs. ‘Do either of you have a complaint to register against Wilco?’

‘No, sir,’ the corporal offered.

The sergeant said, ‘I’d prefer it, sir, if when I state regulations ... some smartarse doesn’t correct me to the letter.’

‘That is annoying,’ the base commander noted. ‘Wilco, don’t be a smartarse, no one likes a smartarse.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘And for the record ... if someone with an Irish accent tries to blag his way onto my base again ... shoot the bastard!’

‘Yes, sir,’ we all agreed.

‘Dismissed.’

The gossip was all around the base, and in Transport they wanted all the details. I was down to drive the Air Commodore, but he had not heard, horrified at first, then ready to crucify the young officer.

‘Drunk driving, lost his ID in a pub! I’d lynch the man. Officers don’t do that.’

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