Good morning  All, Hope you plan on having an awesome day and enjoying what little sunshine we have left for this year.  This is probably another off health topic I thought I would share with you, my email last week about my time in Iraq got a lot of response, and it got me thinking about another key event that happened just a year later, which again held another key life lesson for me. Never mess with Mother Nature, Mother in Laws, or Mother F**king Royal Marine Commando's! Valuable lesson in life! I loved my Green Beret, I worked very hard for it, not only did I complete the thirty week commando training course, but I broke my hand twice which extended it by 20 weeks. So when I got that lid I felt extremely proud, and when I got the opportunity to go to war and experience what I had trained for it felt like a privilege, and my training made sure I was more than ready. Then it finished. Unlike the Falklands we didn't come back to a Hero's reception. There was supposed to be a big dramatic sailing in to Portsmouth where we would all be stood on the ship waving at large crowed's of our family, friends and well wishers waving Union Jacks and just itching to buy us a drink.  News footage of family reunions with long separated soldiers and their wives, kids, mothers and all who loved them who where probably the real hero's of the war, kept in complete silence watching the news terrified of what they would see and barely keeping it together. ( my own mother learned of the outbreak of the War when she walked past the local newsagent only to see that she was on the billboard, as Mother Waits at home for News of her two sons in Helicopter Crash, it turned out eh Leicester Mercury had cottoned onto the big crash at the start and as me and brother where in the same unit had decided to run with that as a story, I refused them an interview on my return) But then it got cancelled. We where just flown into the UK in the dead of night, no big scene and then we unpacked our stuff and went home for two weeks.  No big welcome.  It turns out the War was pretty unpopular. A lot of questions where being asked.  People where outraged that Blair had just blindly followed Bush into what seemed like more of a personal vendetta than any political reason to invade another country, and all on the basis of fabricated evidence. So nobody bought me a drink, and after months of living a real life version of Grand Theft Auto I was back into reality and finding it hard to adjust.  For people who weren't there it was impossible to explain, and for the family who had so eagerly anticipated the return of their loved ones now found they had a socially awkward and changed person on their hands.  Everyone went through different experiences, some people had nightmares, woke up having wet the bed and struggled to cope. But to be honest I felt fine. Just a little disorientated. Then over the following year morale at 40 Commando went down hill. We got new officers in charge who had never been in the conflict. We took to drinking very heavily most nights. We still had a sense of being indestructible and we mostly fought and brawled and got up to all kinds of stuff that would be inappropriate for me to talk about in a Newsletter. So whilst in Norway I handed in my notice, I was going to leave the Marines and pursue my interest as a personal trainer, a job I felt sure I was well suited for, more of a calling than a career. There was just one problem though. Iraq, we where due to go back there, I was to spend my last three months back in the dessert. I was not very happy with that to say the least, but I just swallowed it and got ready to put my family through it all again. Several of my friends had also handed in their notice, and together we hung around and talked about how awesome we thought civvy street would be! The prized Green Beret I had worked so hard for and felt so proud of had now became something I despised. I cleaned the floor with it. Spat on it and turned my back on everything the Marines stood for. The B.S discipline and administration nonsense and bureaucracy that had never sat well with me. I knew I had made the right decision when I stood in parade one day and watched a 38 Year old man, married with children who was being shouted at by a jumped up litte tw*t of an officer  half his age. Before we had to go to Iraq, we had to go for a two week field exercise in Wales, this was to familiarize ourselves with tactics, and learn new troop formations and test out equipment. It was an important exercise, and the prospect of spending two weeks stuck in the rain on what can only be described as the worst camping holiday ever didn't appeal to me much. So that's when it happened. The basis of the headline of this email We went out for a cheeky couple of half pints on the Sunday night after packing all of our kit. As Ryan and myself rolled back into camp about 4am the next morning, slightly the worst for wear we made a decision which changed everything. (Ryan was with me in Iraq a year earlier, he had laid next to me in a ditch as Rocket Propelled Grenades went above us, he caught the back dust in his eyes and was blinded for two weeks and had to be carried out of Battle by Helicopter) It started out as a joke, one of us dared the other person to go AWOL. We dared each other to just go  AWOL and enjoy a few more nights drinking! Never set dares when your  drunk!  So we got a Taxi and found ourselves to Bournemouth! So we spent a few days in Bournemouth, and had a few drinks, and enjoyed being AWOL for a few days whilst the Military police set off on our tracks. After a few days we ran out of things to do, and decided to hand ourselves in. We rang up the base, told them we where coming and where immediately arrested on arrival. Later that day we where in the office of the highest ranking officer of 40 Commando, who had come back from the exercise in Wales especially for us.  He ran through the charges of AWOL, and then sentenced us to 14 days in Colchester Prison. Then he hit me with the worst news, I was to report to MT that night with my bags packed to go into the field. I was to join everyone in Wales for the last week of the exercise. No way! I wasn't having it. I could appeal against the charges, which would then go to a higher court, but I had to get out of the exercise in Wales, it was a matter of personal pride, NO WAY WHERE THEY GOING TO WIN! So it was, just a few hours later, I stood outside a Hospital in Taunton with Ryan and did something stupid and drastic!  I huffed and puffed hard for 30 seconds, then stood against a tree whilst Ryan pushed my chest, which caused me to go unconscious. Ryan ran and got a doctor, and I received a medical letter from the hospital which I took back with me to 40 commando saying I had an Anxiety attack bought on by stress. I was given a medical reason not to go into the field! I had won! it was just a small victory, but they had not beaten me, and I felt proud. Months later a higher court upheld the sentence, in spite of me getting a sympathetic psychiatrist to write out a report recommending I don't go to jail as my AWOL was a stress reaction caused from Iraq ( I didn't tell them about the drunken bet part) So it was I spent two weeks at one of the toughest jails in Britain, sharing a cell with convicted military murderers, thieves and all round no gooders. To be fair I quite enjoyed it, we got to exercise three times a day, which I liked, and I got plenty of time to read up on Anatomy and Physiology books I had gotten from the Library which prepared me well for my Personal Trainer course I was about to start in a few weeks. Take what lessons you like from this story, for me it was just about not getting beat by the system, winning by any means necessary and making it happen. I also just thought it would be a pretty cool story to share, am sure most of us have a drunken tale or two! Thanks for taking the time to read this rather long email! regards Rich Rebel Without a Cause McKeating!