It was with a heart made heavy by mixed emotions, and no small portion of anxiety for government bureaucracy, that I returned, fourteen years to the day, like a creature returning to its hatchery to spawn and die, to Clothing Stores to return my issued kit.
There my burdens, literal and administrative, were checked off, like a ledger of old sins being tallied up on Judgement Day.
- Belt, trousers 1
- Pack Assembly 1
- Shirt, combat 2
- Coat, cold weather, combat 1
- Coat, wet weather, combat 1
And on it went.
Each article, made intimate by long usage, named, checked on a computer, and tossed into a bin until this, my last duty to King and Country was complete.
"That's it, sir. You're done." said the Stores Clerk.
Know the feeling, 36 years in the RN and returning a shed load of kit. The stores clerk signing and stamping my discharge paperwork.
ReplyDeleteDriving out the main gate for the last time, freedom.
Willz.