Farewell to
mustachioed
magnificence
I FIND myself at a formal mess dinner in the Drill Hall. It's rather a large mess dinner, more than 200 people. They are here to say farewell to the magnificently mustachioed Colonel Pat Acutt who is retiring from military life after 47 years.
In the afternoon there was a helicopter fly-past and a cavalry ride-past in Pat's honour. (He spent most of his career with the Natal Mounted Rifles, today a tank regiment but one that has never forgotten its origins). A field gun was mounted on the forecourt by the Natal Field Artillery. As Senior Staff Officer, Reserve Forces KZN, Pat was responsible for all arms of the services, including the navy, but unfortunately they couldn't get a strike craft to the Drill Hall, not even at high tide.
It's a splendid occasion, a skirling of the pipes, a scurrying of the waiters, much bonhomie among the army, air force and naval officers and their ladies, including senior brass down from Pretoria. Pat has always been a gregarious type, a party animal, so all is as it should be.
Pat started his military career in 1972 as a national serviceman with 1SSB – Special Service Battalion (also known as Soldate Sonder Broek -Soldiers Without Pants). Then he joined the NMR (where his dad was honorary colonel), eventually becoming OC himself in 1996. Then in 2002 he was promoted to the post from which he has now retired after 17 years.
Pat saw combat beyond our borders in those far-off fraught days and has also spent more than half his years of military service in the current dispensation. He has gongs aplenty. One senses that he sees the military as a force for cohesion and conciliation as much as a defence against external threat.
A truly colourful character, it's sometimes difficult to remember he has spent much of his career in minute military planning. He's star of the show at the annual Trafalgar Dinner at Royal Natal Yacht Club, turning out in his cavalry blues and spurs and liberally enlivening the soup of all within reach with the contents of his hip flask. Then joining in with gusto as the Port and Starboard Watches hurl insults and abuse at each other in the later stages. Boys will be boys. Pat is certainly one of the boys.
Pat and his wife, Brenda, live fairly close to Reserve Forces HQ in Durban. As one of the speakers warned, the army haven't seen the last of him. I'm sure he's right - they can't do without him. There's no moustache to compare with his in the entire army.
I hope Pat hasn't had to return his hip flask to quartermaster's stores.
Tailpiece
A FELLOW is riding in a full bus minding his own business when the gorgeous woman next to him starts to breast-feed her baby. The baby won't take it so she says: "Come on, Sweetie, eat it all up or I'll have to give it to this nice man next to us."
Five minutes later the baby is still not feeding so she says: "Come on, Honey. Take it or I'll give it to this nice man here."
A few minutes later he blurts: "Come on, kid, make up your mind! I was supposed to get off four stops ago!"
Last word
I'm all in favour of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters.
No comments:
Post a Comment