On the day four more of our fallen return home and the MoD go to the Court of Appeal about payments for two injured soldiers owing to badly designed legislation, one other story has not had so much press coverage.
Before any of our military go on tour to a war zone, they are asked to name, in order of priority, two next of kin to be informed if they are killed. The details are recorded by the personnel system at their unit.
In addition each serviceman/woman is asked to make a Will. This is placed in a sealed envelope with his funeral wishes and choice of personal photographs he/she wants released in the event of death.
The receipt of the Will envelope is logged by administrators at the respective unit before being sent by them to the Service Personnel and Veterans' Agency's Document Handling Centre in Glasgow. An executive agency of the MoD, the centre is responsible for releasing the Will to executors if he dies.
Four Wills of Royal Marines are missing. Across the entire Armed Services the figure is suspected to be far higher. One Will was eventually found, after Kate Miller the fiancee of Marine Neil Dunstan, was told it did not exist. It was later found 'in a drawer' and she has received an apology. She could well have lost her home if the Will had not been found.
One unnamed MP accused the government of 'bureaucratic incompetence bordering on cruelty'. Such a pity the MP wasn't prepared to be named.
This office is another government department which is incompetent in the extreme. I certainly believe this story as I have knowledge of just how inept the SPVA can be.
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There's the story of the soldier who was upbraided by an officer for retreating. 'Do you realise I am the general officer commanding?' said this officer chappie. 'Gosh - I'd no idea I'd retreated that far' said the squaddy.
It's a long way from Afghanistan back to 10 Downing Street. No longer 'lions led by donkeys' but lions sent by the spivs, pimps, ponces and sluts of the Labour Party, a harem of social detritus, sugar-daddied by the fat cats, pocket-lined by the morally unspeakable, bottom-patted by the racketeers. With their sharp suits and limitless trough of public taxes and private bribery they maintain themselves like the pashas of a century ago, a long, long, long, long way from harm. At least Haig and his cretinous cadre were occasionally within earshot of the guns, even close enough to bump into the odd retreating soldier.
....shit, that was a good little muscadet....I've got the American habit of steaming off the labels and plastering them on the fridge. Lest we forget.
Superb comment thanks Vronsky. 'It was ever thus' would be my response to your story, although I believe more and more officers insist on leading from the front.
The ones with the golden braid have done their time at that, so they're given a chair and a tent somewhere - just comfortably outwith the smell of gun smoke.
I'm with Vronsky on all counts including the labels!
Seriously, every walk of our lives has been dragged into the sewer of Labour incompetence. It is becoming difficult to breathe through the poisonous gas emitted minute by minute , day by day in an endless stream of exhaust from the rotting putrification that is Jimmy Jesters troupe of has beens. Loathsome bunch of Dunblane veterans.
OR, I thought Vronsky was joking about steaming labels off favoured wine and sticking them wherever.
I learn something every day right enough!
Now I have visions of Vronsky's kitchen walls being a veritable history of wine.
It's one of the civilised things about America. If you're out for dinner, enjoy the wine but haven't come across it before, you can ask for the label from the bottle. The waiter will steam it off and bring it to you, and you can file it in your wallet. I've got quite a collection (got family in southern California, and make the occasional visit).
What a lovely idea Vronsky, I hadn't heard of it before. How often do you like a wine and keep the bottle then throw it out eventually without noting the details? I do that quite often.
As usual I'm behind on the cultural developments. True, I keep the labels but I also keep the bottles. They're great for throwing at the picture of Gordon that I keep in the hall. Then, wearing heavy boots, I fantasise that the crunching sound is me stepping on his teeth.
The neighbours never scomplain. They have the same picture and they have their own bottles.
Jesus that is seriously frightening. An unmarried partner could be in deep doo doo in the event of a death where s/he thinks that it has been taken care of. OK the law has been changed to a certain extent but ''they'' always try and find an excuse not to pay out. And if these guys as are asked to give an image of themselves after death then that is their decision how they want to be portrayed. The dead can't argue when they are gone, it might seem petty but when it's their choice that must be honoured.
Evening Jim. Sounds rather a noisy place where you live or maybe you're all accustomed to the sound of breaking glass now. :)
Observer, I always though making a Will was compulsory for the military but I may be out of date. This Glasgow office is another seriously incompetent one believe me.
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