Hidey Hole

WordPress asks which person, real or fictional, would I like to be stuck in a foxhole on a battlefield with.

“Foxhole” is one of the euphemisms that generals, safe in their headquarters, come up with to make war seem less hideous. “Collateral damage” sounds as if the building next door to your target has had its windows broken, rather than having everyone in it vapourised, and being shot by “friendly fire” sounds much more chummy and cosy than “being killed by your own side because the generals (still safe in their headquarters) are clueless morons”.

“Foxhole” sounds like something out of Brer Rabbit, whereas “a tiny dent in the earth which covers about half of you from the enemy’s view and in any case isn’t worth a shite if something shell-shaped drops in from above” sounds a bit dangerous.

Anyway, back to the question, which I know I should scornfully ignore, but I’m fascinated by the fact that they give you the option of choosing anyone “real or fictional”.

I’m wondering just how many people would pick Fred from next door over, say, Superman, who you could hide behind while the bullets simply bounced off him.

Harry Potter could weave a protective spell. Captain Picard could arrange for a force-field to be erected around the foxhole. Doctor Who could leave you in the same place but in a different time, one where there wasn’t a battle going on.

Super-fast Builder Man could turn up at the appointed time and rapidly construct a bunker for the quoted price without once stopping for a mug of tea (they did say we could use fictional characters).

All Fred has is a Bible in his breast pocket that will probably stop a bullet and save his life. It’s unlikely that he’ll lend it to you.

They say strong fences make good neighbours. Hopefully Fred will bring the fence with him.

The Tin Soldier

Tinson1is joining the FCA, or the Reserve Defence Forces as it is now apparently known.

If ever I needed proof that he is not my clone, no matter how much he looks like me, then this is it. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less. Well, be trapped in a lift for two hours with the elevator music stuck on “Achey Breaky Heart” , perhaps, but nothing else.

Indeed, the FCA came campaigning to our class when I was in my final year at school. It wasn’t a great success. The guy decided to appeal to the macho man within us. “The training is really tough,” he said. “Wow”, we repiled. “You’ll get to drive really big motorbikes,” he said. “Oooooh,” we replied.

Looking at their website now, it’s clear that they’ve upped their game since my time when it comes to recruitment skills. The introduction says:

“What did you get up to last weekend? Well, if it involved getting together with a 100 or so good friends and firing semi-automatic Steyr AUG rifles or being part of an artillery gun crew, then you already know about the unique challenges and attractions of the Reserve Defence Forces. If not, maybe you should check it out.”

Even my class would have been impressed by that. Anyway, Tinson1certainly was, and so a couple of days ago Mrs Tin had to drive him to Wicklow town to go through the induction process. The other Tinkids and I stood at the window and saluted as the car backed out of the driveway. (When he returned Tinson1informed us solemnly that there are very strict rules about when and whom you salute, and was informed equally solemnly that we weren’t in the FCA, and that we‘d salute whomever we wanted to, whenever we wanted to, thank him very much). We have continued to poke fun at him ever since, with comments about tennis-ball haircuts and potato-mountain-peeling, and will carry on doing so right up until the time when he learns to use the rifle.

What do I think of it all? I don’t want to stand in the way of him trying anything he wants to. I honestly believe that when he actually tries it (he can’t start for another five weeks, till he’s 17) he won’t like it, and that it will be a lesson well learned. If he does like it, and stays involved, well, it will keep him fit (one of his obsessions), teach him about discipline, and the importance of teamwork.

And we do need a Defence Force. And other countries do have National Service. And the youth of these countries do seem to emerge more respectful and mature.

And yet… I hate all the macho crap involved with organisations like this. I’m sad that the website had to focus on the opportunity to fire rifles, rather than the chance to serve the public, as its catchcry. I’m worried that he’ll come into contact with people joining because of the lure of aggression and bullying rather than the excitement and cameraderie. And, in the end, damn it, I just don’t like guns.

Or perhaps I’m just sad because it’s one more proof that his childhood is virtually over, and that he’s becoming a man.