The Royal Marine Corps’ Parade

On Ugglesby Head Day 2011, Friday 13 May¹, it was decided that the Royal Marine Corps would be allowed to stage a parade along Marygate and Castlegate in Danby. It was suggested this was a kind of belated victory parade for the Lower Mumba operation, but Admiral Leslie and General McRobbie downplayed that idea, saying simply that it was high time the Marines were given such recognition. The last time any similar parade had taken place was in 1942, and early colour film was dug out which was noteworthy for the wide variety of regimental uniforms, the large number of horses present and the rather feeble-looking Mayonnaise-built tanks of the day. Now, of course, the Marines had the latest state-of-the-art Brunswickian main battle tanks.

Some concern was expressed that it would bring back painful memories of the 1968 “tanks on the streets” episode, but realistically enough time had elapsed for that to become just a distant memory. There were also predictable grumbles that it would be “just like Rolvia”, but of course it was nothing of the kind. The topography of Danby prevented any kind of mass show of force, and in fact it consisted of relatively small representative detachments of the eleven Marine Corps regiments, in total involving about 2,500 personnel, of whom maybe 300 were women, out of the total strength of the Marine Corps of about 21,000. In the past, during Coronations and Royal funerals and weddings, train services had been suspended over the Castlegate Arch, but the railways weren’t going to lose two hours’ business, and so the parade took place with a train trundling across every ten minutes in each direction. Not surprisingly, the parade attracted large crowds, with people ten deep along the length of Marygate and Castlegate, and viewing grandstands erected at the start outside St Mary’s Cathedral, and at the end outside Danby Castle. It was a beautiful bright Spring day with a few small fluffy clouds high in the sky and the temperature reaching a peak of about 17º C.

The Marines were usually seen in combat fatigues, and it wasn’t generally realised by the public that each regiment had its own distinctive dress uniform, often based to some extent on the pre-war uniforms of predecessor regiments. This had been grudgingly accepted by Admiral Henderson in the 1950s and had been allowed to blossom rather more under Vauclain in the 1980s. Particularly eyecatching were the uniforms of the Rifle Regiment – black trousers with gold piping, maroon tunics with gold buttons and (fake) bearskin caps. All the soldiers wore their appropriate regimental caps or berets – there were no tin helmets at all on display. The sight of a platoon of strapping men marching in immaculate formal uniforms inevitably stirred the blood of many Arransian women.

The Marines had never much gone in for formal parade ground marching, but for this parade the infantry regiments felt they should make an effort, and the Paras and Rifles were drilled by Brunswickian instructors to an acceptable standard which may not have been the best in the world, but certainly didn’t disgrace themselves. The Commandos – to their lasting chagrin – decided this would look a bit sissy, and elected to attend in fatigues riding on the back of open lorries, which meant they didn’t make anything like as much of an impression. Musical accompaniment was provided by a military brass band and a couple of pipe and drum bands – although rest assured that no Arransian soldier ever had, or ever would, wear a kilt.

The parade was led by fifty mounted cavalry of the “Demonstration Cavalry Troop”. In 1949, Admiral Henderson decreed that henceforth the Marines would be an entirely mechanised force and that any military use of horses would cease. From a fighting point of view this made sense, but many officers, not exclusively from the former cavalry regiments, regretted the abandonment of even any ceremonial use of horses, and by the late 1950s had set up an unofficial cavalry unit entired financed by themselves. In the 1980s, under Vauclain, this was given some formal recognition, and by 2011 about two-thirds of the funding came from official sources. The Arransian love of horses is often thought to equal their fondness for cats, and it was hard to conceive of fifty more magnificent, powerful, well-groomed steeds. There was no attempt to match colours, so there were whites, greys, bays, piebalds and blacks, although the riders (eight of whom were women) wore standard issue uniforms as to wear their individual regimental uniforms would have given a motley impression.

No doubt a vague order was issued that no animal mascots should be on display, but inevitably there were the heads of one or two cats to be seen, most memorably including a handsome ginger-and-white fellow sitting alongside the stern-looking commander of a 155mm self-propelled gun of the Artillery. This became an enduring image of the event and clearly underlined that it wasn’t “just like Rolvia”. Other animals on show were some snarling, slavering Arransian Mastiffs belonging to the Military Police, who were represented by about forty officers. Not surprisingly, they drew a few good-natured boos from the crowd, but you didn’t join the Military Police expecting to be popular.

One thing that was very evident was both the quantity and quality of the equipment possessed by the Marine Corps. Indeed, they were reckoned to have more vehicles per head than any other “army” in the world.  Although Arransia had the industrial capability to construct all kinds of military vehicles, in general for the more sophisticated ones they have preferred to co-operate with the Brunswickians but ensure their manufacturers got as much subcontract work as possible. Thus the Armoured Regiment’s impressive main battle tanks were of the latest Brunswickian type, fully desertised and tropicalised. Much of the equipment was relatively new, although the main fleet of 4x4 transport lorries and some of the Engineers’ specialist equipment were approaching the veteran stage. Arransia did not go beyond making light armoured cars and armoured personnel carriers, although did produce a model of light tank based on a 1950s Brunswickian design that was noted for its reliability and was widely exported to third world countries. Most of the small arms were of domestic manufacture and Arransia was also a significant exporter of firearms.

The end of the parade passed the gates of Danby Castle, providing the ideal opportunity to take a salute. However, the King, who had never been very keen on military matters, declined on the grounds of indisposition, and Princess Fiona similarly didn’t fancy the idea either. Admiral Leslie felt that for him and his wife to take the salute would appear presumptious, so it ended up being carried out by the C-in-C of the Marine Corps, General Keith McRobbie, and his deputy and expected successor Lieutenant-General Colin Mackenzie, who had in the second half of 2009 served as Military Governor of Lower Mumba, a pair of stern career soldiers who didn’t look as though they would suffer fools at all, let alone gladly. Lt-Gen Mackenzie’s refusal to play political games and complete intolerance of any kind of bullshit had contributed to his success in Lower Mumba. They were accompanied by their respective wives and also by Mackenzie’s two attractive daughters aged 22 and 19 (both dressed very demurely), who from some quarters were accused of acting like princesses. One suspects they had no shortage of suitors beforehand, but they certainly didn’t afterwards. McRobbie, who had in his twenties played a few rugby internationals for Arransia as a second-row forward, was a massive bear of a man, 6’5” tall and big with it, who had a very intimidating appearance.

The end of the parade was marked by an impressive flypast of 29 aircraft from the RNAS’ transport squadrons – three C-44s (the military version of the Curtiss C-420 four-engined jet airliner), sixteen C-49s (similar to a Hercules) in both “short” and “long” versions, two C-52s (similar to a Galaxy) and eight C-60s (similar to a C-17 Globemaster), the last of which had played a central role in the Lower Mumba operation two years before. The C-44s, C-52s and the eight “short” C-49s were all fairly long in the tooth, but the C-60s and the “long” C-49s were relatively new. This was in fact the largest military flypast over Danby since one on Ugglesby Head Day 1984, and underlined the point that the Marines were not going to go into action anywhere unless somebody took them to the scene, something the RNAS were very well equipped to do.

The parade concluded at around 12.30pm, and the crowds dispersed to go and have some lunch, then do some shopping or maybe spend the afternoon in the pub. The entire parade had, of course, been televised live and there was a highlights programme in the evening which was warmly received in the nation’s pubs and drew a lot of comments along the lines of “you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of those bastards, would you?” Arransians could be very pleased with the confirmation that their country had at its disposal a well-equipped, well-trained, professional and enthusiastic expeditionary force to project their interests wherever in the world they might need to, but who at the same time showed a human touch and were not just military automatons.

It wasn’t shown in Brunswick as such (although by this time Arransian TV was available on digital channels anyway) and in general the Brunswickians, while respecting the military capabilities of Arransians as sailors and bomber and reconnaissance pilots, always seemed to struggle with the concept of Arransian soldiers. It could be said, however, that the whole event was something of a showcase for the Brunswickian armaments industry. Needless to say, the parade was a strong boost for recruitment, even though after the Lower Mumba operation two years earlier the Marine Corps were hardly struggling, and indeed were in a position of being to pick and choose that was the envy of some of their foreign counterparts.

The TV coverage was made into a video which proved a popular present the following Christmas. However, perhaps the most striking sight of all was that of the eight C-60s taking off in quick succession from RNAS Headless Cross set amongst the rolling hills west of Clive. Specifically designed to be able to take the maximum weight into or out of relatively short forward airfields, with a light load these big, fat aircraft seemed to be able to just trundle slowly a few hundred yards down the runway, rotate and take to the air.

¹ Friday 13th doesn’t have anything like the same negative connotations in Arransia as it does in this country and the USA

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