Read Online Out in the Army: My Life as a Gay Soldier by James Wharton - Free Book Online
Authors: James Wharton
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onlookers as they saw us go. Who was in that coach?
When we arrived at the castle I was surprised to see a medium-sized anti-French protest going on outside the gates. What were they protesting about? We took up our positions in earnest as somebody came around and touched up our brasses. I stood at the top of the steps next to the main entrance to the area of the castle where the state dinner was being hosted by the Queen. I noticed early on that there were film crews capturing the event from within the castle walls. I overhead one of the cameramen say it was for a BBC project. Thoughts of TV stardom entered my tired head. I’d been wearing full state kit for some hours and my body ached.
It was dark with rain falling heavily as guests began to arrive. Many cars pulled up opposite to where I was positioned and important people disembarked, most of whom I didn’t recognise. Suddenly, another blacked-out saloon pulled up and out of it came Arsène Wenger. Stood there in the pouring rain this celebrity sighting raised my spirits again.
More cars arrived and people made their way into the castle from the pouring rain. Then I noticed flashing blue lights on the front of a car as it entered the centre quadrangle of the castle grounds. When it pulled up opposite me, a very smart Tony Blairstepped out of the vehicle. He dashed up the steps and stood next to me, trying to shelter from the downpour while he waited for his wife Cherie, who I could see was putting a final touch of lipstick on in the back of the car.
‘Good evening,’ he said to me. ‘Terrible weather!’
It wasn’t just a slight shower, the rain was throwing it down, and I’m sure the Prime Minister felt very sorry for me standing there soaked to my skin.
‘Good evening, Prime Minister’ were the only words that came into my head and with them the pair walked past me and into the castle. Unbelievable. I had held a conversation, albeit a brief one, with the Prime Minister. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wait to tell Mum on the phone.
The guests were to enjoy a full royal banquet in the presence of the Queen and both Prime Minister Blair and President Chirac. We, meanwhile, simply got back onto our coach and returned to the barracks, which was only five minutes away, without any supper waiting for us.
In bed that night I considered just how incredible the day had been. From putting on the kit for our first official occasion to standing on the staircase and catching that amazing first glimpse of our Queen. The excitement of the police escort to Windsor and the surprise of having the briefest of conversations with the Prime Minister. These kinds of things didn’t happen to people like me. I wanted to tell the world and relish the feeling of euphoria for as long as possible, but there wasn’t time. The next morning we were back at the riding school, though there would be plenty more opportunities to mingle with the royals in future. One thing was very clear though: I had loved every minute. I was certain I’d made the right choice. The Household Cavalry was definitely for me.
The nights we spent in Windsor over the winter months were some of the greatest of my life. The entire ride would go out on a Friday to the hotel opposite Windsor Castle, which held weekly karaoke nights. Jamie, Josh and I would sing week in, week out, culminating the evening with a rendition of ‘California Dreamin”. Josh always took the lead.
Christmas was on us soon enough and with it my eighteenth birthday on New Year’s Day. My three friends took me out and we drank the night away in some dodgy bar in Slough. What an eighteenth! The four of us had certainly become close over the winter months, Dean, Josh, Jamie and me. The variety of experiences we faced together drew us closer, and this time I allowed myself to get attached because we’d be together in the regiment for the long term. Warren had drifted away from Dean and me slightly, for no other reason than he’d
When we arrived at the castle I was surprised to see a medium-sized anti-French protest going on outside the gates. What were they protesting about? We took up our positions in earnest as somebody came around and touched up our brasses. I stood at the top of the steps next to the main entrance to the area of the castle where the state dinner was being hosted by the Queen. I noticed early on that there were film crews capturing the event from within the castle walls. I overhead one of the cameramen say it was for a BBC project. Thoughts of TV stardom entered my tired head. I’d been wearing full state kit for some hours and my body ached.
It was dark with rain falling heavily as guests began to arrive. Many cars pulled up opposite to where I was positioned and important people disembarked, most of whom I didn’t recognise. Suddenly, another blacked-out saloon pulled up and out of it came Arsène Wenger. Stood there in the pouring rain this celebrity sighting raised my spirits again.
More cars arrived and people made their way into the castle from the pouring rain. Then I noticed flashing blue lights on the front of a car as it entered the centre quadrangle of the castle grounds. When it pulled up opposite me, a very smart Tony Blairstepped out of the vehicle. He dashed up the steps and stood next to me, trying to shelter from the downpour while he waited for his wife Cherie, who I could see was putting a final touch of lipstick on in the back of the car.
‘Good evening,’ he said to me. ‘Terrible weather!’
It wasn’t just a slight shower, the rain was throwing it down, and I’m sure the Prime Minister felt very sorry for me standing there soaked to my skin.
‘Good evening, Prime Minister’ were the only words that came into my head and with them the pair walked past me and into the castle. Unbelievable. I had held a conversation, albeit a brief one, with the Prime Minister. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wait to tell Mum on the phone.
The guests were to enjoy a full royal banquet in the presence of the Queen and both Prime Minister Blair and President Chirac. We, meanwhile, simply got back onto our coach and returned to the barracks, which was only five minutes away, without any supper waiting for us.
In bed that night I considered just how incredible the day had been. From putting on the kit for our first official occasion to standing on the staircase and catching that amazing first glimpse of our Queen. The excitement of the police escort to Windsor and the surprise of having the briefest of conversations with the Prime Minister. These kinds of things didn’t happen to people like me. I wanted to tell the world and relish the feeling of euphoria for as long as possible, but there wasn’t time. The next morning we were back at the riding school, though there would be plenty more opportunities to mingle with the royals in future. One thing was very clear though: I had loved every minute. I was certain I’d made the right choice. The Household Cavalry was definitely for me.
The nights we spent in Windsor over the winter months were some of the greatest of my life. The entire ride would go out on a Friday to the hotel opposite Windsor Castle, which held weekly karaoke nights. Jamie, Josh and I would sing week in, week out, culminating the evening with a rendition of ‘California Dreamin”. Josh always took the lead.
Christmas was on us soon enough and with it my eighteenth birthday on New Year’s Day. My three friends took me out and we drank the night away in some dodgy bar in Slough. What an eighteenth! The four of us had certainly become close over the winter months, Dean, Josh, Jamie and me. The variety of experiences we faced together drew us closer, and this time I allowed myself to get attached because we’d be together in the regiment for the long term. Warren had drifted away from Dean and me slightly, for no other reason than he’d
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