THE SLAMMER By Doug Russell, 2 RAR
It was about halfway through our time in Rwanda (three months). We had a parade for the presenting of our UN medal. So we did the parade and some piss was put on when the parade had finished. Of course a few of us took the drink too far and got fucken blind. I remember a good mate of mine, Chook Blunden, got locked up for making a cunt of himself, so me being a drunken fuckhead thought I could get my mate out of the slammer. I marched, or should I say staggered, up to the OC and started having my piece to say about my mate in the slammer. It ended up with me also fucking up, chest poking the OC and telling him how I wanted the next plane out of that cunt of a place. So sure enough the guard commander Jake Blake and a few blokes on guard duty came and grabbed me and threw me in the slammer too. The next day Chook and I had to front the CSM, Allan Gillman. He said to me, “So you want to get out of here do you, Private Russell?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“WE ALL FUCKEN DO,” he screamed. Needless to say I had extras hanging out of my ass.