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A Totally True* Story from Exercise Tartan Eagle 2008

(*Mostly true. Some details may have been enhanced for dramatic effect and to protect Sgt Rodgers from therapy.)

Gather round, children, because it’s time to talk about the time the Royal Marines politely borrowed a chunk of Washington State for two weeks and accidentally triggered a minor international incident involving line dancing, a bear (maybe), and one very traumatised sergeant who shall henceforth be known as “Rodgers the Rabbit-Hearted”.

Chapter 1: The Invasion Begins (With Tea and Confusion)

Every year, a hardy band of Fleet Protection Group Royal Marines (FPGRM, or as the Americans learned to pronounce it, “those guys with the funny hats”) cross the Atlantic to play war games with the US Marine Corps. In 2008 the exercise was called Tartan Eagle, which sounds like a rejected Harry Potter house but is actually code for “let’s all go to Fort Lewis and see who can clear a building faster while the locals offer us free food”.

(FPGRM during Tartan Eagle 2024)

Royal arrived expecting the usual: rain, bad coffee, and Americans asking if they knew the Queen personally. Instead they got:

• A hotel booked “on the act offering” (local sheriff dialect for “we have no idea where you’re staying, good luck”)
• A town that thought 911 was a takeaway service
• BBQ so good it should be classified as a Schedule 1 controlled substance
• Sgt Rodgers discovering that America has wildlife that isn’t just drunk badgers and angry pigeons

Chapter 2: CQB, But Make It Freedom

The actual training was top-tier. The USMC brought their A-game: live-fire shoot houses, M16s, 9mm pistols that actually worked and a level of dexterity with weapons systems that made the Royals lift an eyebrow.

The British instructors, being British, responded by handling both their own kit and the American kit with the casual competence of men who’ve been doing this since the Falklands and still have the hearing damage to prove it. Accuracy was… let’s just say the myth of British shooting being “a bit agricultural” was politely put to bed. Most of the Squadron passed first time. The ones who didn’t were forced to drink decaf for a week, which is technically a war crime.

Chapter 3: The Great Whistler Bear Incident of Aught-Eight

And then came Canada.

On a jolly little adventure sport arrival many (read: everyone who wanted to see Rodgers cry) were dismayed when the prospect of being eaten by a “gentle jog” with Sgt Rodgers was announced. Translation: a nice gentle run up a mountain in Whistler.

Rodgers, a man built like a machine with the survival instincts of a guinea pig on heroin, was soon seen sprinting in a mad panic away from a small bear outside the accommodation. Sources differ on whether it was:

a) An actual black bear b) A large raccoon c) A particularly fluffy dog wearing a bear costume as a prank

Whatever it was, Rodgers broke the Squadron 400-meter record that day while screaming. The bear (or dog) looked mildly confused and went back to eating garbage.

Chapter 4: Things We Learned

1. Fort Lewis is the size of a small city. Complete with airfields, heliports, and at least three Starbucks.
2. Most Americans legitimately cannot tell the difference between a British accent and a South African one. This led to several awkward conversations about apartheid and cricket.
3. The USMC loves Royal. Like, a lot. Suspiciously large amounts.
4. MILFs (the dance, not the… other thing) are surprisingly good at line dancing. Who knew?
5. Sgt Rodgers is officially terrified of anything smaller and fluffier than a Labrador.
6. The more you trash-talk the USMC, the more they feed you. It’s a trap. A delicious, delicious trap.

Epilogue: The House is Clear

At the end of the exercise both sides agreed it was a roaring success. Skills were sharpened, friendships forged, and an entire Squadron now has photographic evidence of Sgt Rodgers running from a creature approximately the size of a large handbag.

Many thanks to the USMC ranks who looked after us, fed us, and only laughed a little bit when we called flashlights “torches” and asked where the kettle was.

May Exercise Tartan Eagle live on for eternity. And may Sgt Rodgers never, ever work at a petting zoo.

Oorah. And jolly good show.

(The Globe & Laurel, 2008 – slightly embellished for your reading pleasure in 2025)