You come across them everywhere. Not always in the flesh, of course. Their names are inscribed on the walls of temples and the badges of their old regiments are carved into rock faces around the world. I mean British soldiers, of course, who have served on every continent. At one time they policed one-quarter of the earth’s surface, which is a remarkable achievement for a comparatively small group of men (and these days, women) born in an insignificant group of offshore islands.
They were heroes and cowards, wise men and fools, good men and bad. Their story is one of triumph and tragedy, victory and sometimes defeat, hard living and laughter. Strong bonds of comradeship, a sense of family, and pride in the soldier’s regiment
have always existed, as well as traditions that aren’t found to the same extent in any other army. When times are at their worst, these things provide a tremendous source of strength.
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