Stories

Para Reg!

Selection CSM McBride

In the spring of 1988, I got a call at the house from Battalion. I was on a day off for having Brigade Staff Duty the night before. The battalion wanted to know if I would like to be assigned to the British Parachute Regiment on the Allied Exchange program.

Dream Job? Yes, Please!

Each Battalion of Parachute Infantry in the 82nd submitted the name of their best Sergeant First Class to Division Sergeant Major McBride. He would choose the guy.

My initial interview went well and CSM McBride called me in for a second interview and told me to bring my wife. He chose us out of the ten or eleven names. No doubt Kim was the deciding factor. They were looking for a team and Kim, being strong, smart, and independent was a perfect fit. All I had to do was be a good platoon Sergeant.

Now there were a thousand things to do. We would need to pack out some of our things and store others. We would have to ship our left-hand-drive car. I needed a Mess Dress Uniform with all of the accouterments. CE would attend a British preschool and Jay The American School in Switzerland (London). We would all need Passports. Mine was a maroon Diplomatic.

The Regiment and current Exchange NCO, SFC Lance Allen, were helpful in this process.

Before leaving, I had to be briefed at the Pentagon. For the first time, I heard that my Senior Rater was the Military Attache at the US Embassy in London. Part of my job was to Invite him to visit the Regiment. Everyone knows these guys are spies. I listened but decided I was never going to do that. I never did, no matter how much he complained and insisted.

I don't remember the flight over, but do remember being picked up by the Regiment. The sergeant who picked us up, Jordie, took us straight to our apartment in Church Crookham. the Regiment had already set us up with furniture, cooking and eating utensils, made the beds, and filled the fridge with all the essentials for the first few days.

Jordie picked me up the next morning to meet the RSM and my unit. Since 1 Para was in Northern Ireland, I would be with 538 Platoon, Depot Para, like our basic training on steroids. I was introduced to SGT Bunkel, Corporals Pitcher, Edwards, and Fuller, and LT Boyns. I began training with them the next day. The cadre treated me like a soldier, a visiting dignitary, and a team member, depending on the situation.

I was there to learn. This was the best place. My corporals ensured I was prepared as a British soldier and Platoon Sergeant.

Their Physical Standards were tough. The three I remember most were the 10-mile Ruck March (Run), the 3-mile Release Run (out at a 7-minute pace and back at a sprint), and the 2-miler (run with webbing, fatigues, boots, and rifle with the same passing times as out pt test run.). I figured out, quickly, that I might be a top dog in the 82nd, here I was a middle-of-the-road guy.

I traveled wherever 538 Platoon went. I attended British Airborne School before them to take the Range Management and Safety Course. Mostly we trained around Aldershot and at the training facility at Sunnybridge Wales.

When 1 Para returned from across the water, I joined them. Against the Exchange Program rules, they assigned me to the Training Team, like the S-3 Shop. I think they were pissed at having to give away a Platoon Sergeant slot that a Brit Soldier needed for promotion. They justified this by sending me on every trip the Battalion made.

The first thing I did with 1Para was the Memorial Service for Sergeant Michael B. Matthews, killed by a bomb while they were in NI. Man, I shouldn't have been there. This was a close-knit elite group of warriors with shared experience and common sorrow. I was an outsider. The RSM criticized me for wearing my uniform and my terrible marching during the parade to the service. I didn't take offense.

The Battalion held a Ddning in to welcome me to the battalion. The RSM insisted that I drink the Yard of Ale as a right of passage. I can only assume he didn't believe I could do it. Well, I did. After that, the boys began to warm up to me.

I got to go to Fort Ord with one company, Cyprus with another, and Germany as an evaluator on an exercise. I made friends throughout the Battalion by sucking it up and doing my assigned duties.

In the desert, the Alpha Company Commander asked if I knew how to direct close air support. I took the radio and killed all the enemy on his objective with bombing runs.

In Cyprus, I got word that the Bravo Commander told his soldiers that if they came in on a release run behind The Yank he would confine them to post. During the run, I cruised along in the middle of the pack but stopped just before the finish, turned around, and ran downhill to his last soldier. The boys behind me loved it and when word got around, I was a hero to the men. The CO was pissed.

When the 82nd got wind of my assignment, they threatened to send the Brit NCO, Baz Bardsley MM, who was leading my Scout Platoon, to work at Range Control. I became Platoon Sergeant of 8 Platoon, Charlie Company. With this platoon, I went to Oman, Wales, and Scotland.

Brits do not like Jumping. They don't do it enough. Whenever visitors came to jump, I got the call. Hell, we jumped the Barrage Baloon, the sweetest jump in the world. So, the Brits, sent the Yank, to put the Germans out of the balloon. Crazy.

Just before I left the regiment, the Battalion gave me the responsibility for their Service Protected Evacuation Exercise. I guess I had finally earned their officer's trust. It went flawlessly. It was my last FTX with them.

I volunteered when the regiment detailed the Battalion to supply a sergeant to 2 Para's Northern Ireland Training. It was a great two weeks. I met a lot of good people. The Irish were great to me.

Now the Battalion thought they couldn't live without me. They wanted to send me on an exercise two weeks before my PCS date, regardless of the work Kim and I needed to do before moving to Turkey. I respectfully refused. They put me on guard duty. I only had to pull it for one evening.

The Warrant Officers and Sergeant's Mess held a dining out in my honor. It was a good time but hard to say goodbye to my mates.

My Mates were: Al Pitcher, Andy Vickery, Rand Marshall, Steve Morris, Blackie Dickson, Jerry Long, Spike Shaw, Kerien Day, and Dick Catton.

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