There was a photograph of me looking like some slightly less muscular Rambo-like character, with blood and grime smeared on my face, my hair - unkempt and filthy, my combat gear was ripped, my body armour displayed three reasons why I wore it and the weariness of five days without sleep showed in the bags under my eyes. I held my personal weapon in my right hand and the four-year old grand-daughter of the ex-president with my left arm. The photograph was taken just after I'd led all those people to safety and we'd had to fight hard for the last mile to the border. I'd seen three of my men killed and wasn't in a good mood.
I read the report: -
Hero Captain who saved thousands is court-martialled for
disobeying order to leave civilians to a terrible fate.
Captain Robert Carlisle (29) of the Royal Green Jackets, walked free from a court martial in London yesterday with his honour intact. Charged with wilful disobedience of orders whilst attached to the Peacekeeping Force in the tiny Republic of Mgombi in West Africa two months ago, Captain Carlisle was found not guilty on all counts except one of conduct unbecoming an Officer of Her Majesty's Armed Services.
In summing up, General Sir William Grant- Finche, stated that Captain Carlisle allowed the humanitarian issues to cloud his judgement. However, the public pressure and general acclaim that has followed Captain Carlisle since his return meant that any other verdict was impossible.
None of Captain Carlisle's troops faced any charges, as he publicly defended their loyalty. "I made the decision to disregard what I considered to be an irresponsible order from an ill-informed source, with dubious motives. My men were never party to that, as they believed that our job was to save lives and maintain the peace. Three of them gave their lives to save nearly two thousand. I regret their loss, but was proud to serve with them. Give me one of them rather than any pompous oaf in a suit from Whitehall."
Tens of thousands of people have signed a petition to acquit him of all charges, and even some newspapers have suggested he be awarded the Victoria Cross or the Nobel Peace Prize.
On the single guilty verdict, he was permitted to resign his commission, but the unrepentant Captain stated that if he was presented with another opportunity to punch the new President, General Malcolm Mombossu, then the next time he would ensure that the man wouldn't get up again, whether his conduct was unbecoming or not. The charges were brought by the Ministry of Defence, following a military coup in the tiny republic. UN Peacekeepers had been involved since the civil unrest started two years ago, and Captain Carlisle was present with a small detachment of British soldiers to maintain control of the central mining area. The republic is well known only for the diamonds it produces, and the Captain was to ensure that control of this vital area didn't fall into the rebels' hands.
The coup, which was unexpected, brought a shift in the British Government's stand, so the Captain was ordered to leave the area, allowing the mines to fall to Mombossu's militia. The town of H’Aki, containing the tribal people of the mountains and the family of President Holasu G'ymbai, was to be abandoned to a force that had a reputation of excessive violence and torture of other tribes.
Captain Carlisle refused to acknowledge the order, instead organising the complete evacuation of the town, thereby securing the escape of G'ymbai and his family to neighbouring Ghana. Mgombi is landlocked and sits between Togo and Ghana.
It was rumoured, but never proven, that Captain Carlisle also arranged for a substantial number of diamonds to be transferred abroad, and essential elements of the mining organisation and equipment were removed, rendering the mines unusable for many months while the parts were found or replaced and systems repaired.
Captain Carlisle accused the British government of 'Two-faced mercenary tactics in the name of profit', when he discovered that secret talks with General Mombossu had secured contracts for British companies to assist in the development of the country.
The General personally led at attempt to arrest the Captain at Juminka airport as he was boarding a RAF Hercules to come home. The Captain admitted punching the General, at which point Carlisle's men came to his assistance, securing his release, but not avoiding a serious diplomatic incident. It appears that the negotiated contracts are now in jeopardy.
David Cameron, leader of the Conservatives stated, 'This man is a hero and should be rewarded, not treated like some criminal. This Government has shown complete contempt for human rights in preference to secure small profits to boost their own standing.'
The Foreign secretary was not available for comment.
Captain Carlisle said he was now going to have a bloody good holiday while he decided what to do next.
It is rumoured that a film company has approached the Captain, with a view to making a movie of the story.
I shook my head. What a stupid, fucked-up world we lived in. I had lost my job; a job I'd loved and had given my heart and soul to for the last ten years. I was a hero for a moment, but now had to carry a reputation of being unreliable and too honourable to be trusted with certain decisions. A friend of mine in the City of London told me that I was unemployable, for such is the level of corruptibility and greed that anyone with scruples and a sense of honour wouldn't last a second. It said a lot for the nature of big business.
I read the last couple of lines with a chuckle. Where the hell did they get this crap from? I wished it was true, as then at least I'd have an income coming in. Without a salary, my flat would have to go, as I wouldn't be able to pay the mortgage.
I ate my stimulating breakfast of a high fibre cereal that guaranteed to keep me regular, as if I needed it, wondering who I knew I could contact and seek help. It brought home just how alone I was. My parents had died some years ago and, as an only child, I had gone straight from boarding school into the army. All my friends were in the army, so I knew very few people on the outside.
The doorbell rang again.
I'd threatened to remove the genitals of the next photographer or reporter who rang the bell, so was prepared to be as nasty as possible when I answered it.
A tall and elegant young woman stood there, the drizzle spotting her charcoal grey jacket and skirt.
"Captain Carlisle?" she asked; her voice clipped and professional. She sounded well-educated and appeared completely unphazed by my obvious hostility. She looked at the Napoleonic bayonet in my hand with mild amusement.
"I'm just plain Rob Carlisle, as I'm not a Captain any more. Are you the press?"
"No. Which I hope is a positive factor."
I put the bayonet down behind the door and just looked at her.
"My employer would like to meet you to discuss a potential business proposition."
"Oh yes, what might that be, another relief of Mafeking?"
She ignored my sarcasm, looking slightly bored and unamused
"May I come in?" she asked instead, as if that was the last thing she really wanted. After all, I was unshaved, wearing boxer shorts and an old rugby shirt and hadn't brushed my hair since getting out of bed. She was actually one of the nicest looking girls I'd seen in a long time, so I rather regretted not looking better for her.
I'd never been the biggest or strongest man that walked the earth, neither had I been the kind of man who'd turn heads when I walked into a room, but I was neither ugly nor strikingly handsome. In fact, I was very good at passing through life and never really being remembered in the process. I was always that kid in the class who no one remembered, or that soldier whose name one just could never recall, and whose face just never came back in focus.
My one feature that made me slightly less forgettable was my nose. I inherited the Carlisle nose, a large and Roman variety that had led to me being nicknamed as Conk Carlisle at Prep School, which I liked to believe was short for Concorde, due to my wonderful speed on the rugby pitch, but sadly, I rather think it had nothing to do with the first supersonic airliner. However, a year after my parents' death, I managed to catch a very fast cricket ball on the bridge, which smashed it out of all recognition. After three sessions with an ENT specialist, it still looked like a large lump of gristle on my face, providing me with limited use of both nostrils. It became a nightmare whenever I contracted a cold.