Our Story - as much of it that can be told that is...

Story One - Chapter Two

The Rhinosasauri Appear

The very next night Zita arrived home, loaded down with her regular accumulation of parcels. Pounds of silk from here, bolts of cotton from there, a lump of velvet found somewhere, in addition, peeking out over her shoulder, from inside her knapsack, was, what could only have been a Rhinosasauris; looking a bit bedraggled, and perhaps just a tad apprehensive.

It was dressed in a much smudged, creased turquoise safari jacket, and had an often dented pith helmet tied onto its head with a short pieces of frayed, knotted twine. Zita gently lowered the knapsack on to the living room floor.

The Colonel dropped his newest acquisition - a not too used copy of McPherson’s “Battle Cry of Freedom” and quickly climbed down from his chair.

“Damnation! - This here’s only a bairn. Great Goodness what is happening over there?” He shook his head in a fashion that suggested that the fall of The Empire was not altogether an advance for either Animeaux or Peoples, the hiding his concern behind regimental formality, he picked up his walking stick and marching into the living room, rested against the wicker end table.

“And now wha’s been happening t’ya laddie?” he asked in his best official voice.

(The Rhinosasauris had long since climbed out of the knapsack a stood fore-square facing the household. He was not overly large, but like all of his kind he was wonderfully graceful. He had a rather silvery gray coat and most specifically blue eyes; his two horns were a complementary muted blue-gray, a short tail protruded from under his jacket; it seemed to wave in tempo with his conversation. All-in-all the Rhinosasauris cut quite a stylish figure, though it was clear to all that even with the assistance of extremely well tailored ensembles, he would always be described as “robust”.)

He stood up straight, stretched his arms, shook both legs, straightened out his jacket (as best he could), and adjusted the rake of his hat.

Rubbing his eyes he looked around at the multitude who had gathered in the living room. He held up his head and turning towards the question, replied, “And now who might be asking?”

Dugal stepped back, bowed slightly, “I say. Do beg your pardon. ‘Most forgot myself. Silly of me. The name’s Dugal; of the Blackthorn-Badgers of fair Glenfinnan. Up north of Loch Eil,”

He reached out his hand, “....and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I welcome you to our domicile. First Dragon Dragoons and The Pig Irregulars over there.” He said with a wide sweep of his knobby walking stick in their general direction. The Queen’s Own Pig Irregulars all promptly nodded, while the Dragons brushed the air with their wings in the traditional Dragoon welcome.

“The two Peoples here are our friends; Mister Craiglellachie and the lady of the house, Ms. NíChaomhaigh. To be sure it was herself who ransomed you from that decidedly common retail outlet.”

Zita interrupted, “In spite of all the Colonel’s hopes, I am really not that formal, and I’d be pleased if you would call me Zita, or Mrs. Taylor if you must.”

She leaned over to Craig and whispered, “When I got to the book store all were gone, except for this one. He was lying just under the shambles of the Third World Revolutionary Diets section. I guess he was overlooked. To say the least, his condition is a bit rough, but he is cute - in sort of a blocky way. I am afraid that they were only asking $14.29, which is a bit of a disgrace, but I didn’t tell him so. I’m sorry I missed the others.”

Craig went over to their guest and extended his hand, “I’m pleased to meet you, and glad that we could be of help. Naturally any colleague of Dugal’s is welcome here. Everyone, aside from the Colonel, just calls me Craig; I really wish you’d do the same.”

The Rhinosasauris, with some difficulty, undid various knots and removed his helmet. He shook Craig’s hand and bowed to all four corners of the room.

“I would most certainly like to thank you for my rescue. The last several months have all been a terrible bout of confusion, and I must ask for your forgiveness if I have misplaced some of my manners, you see I really don’t know where I am, or actually how I got here.”

Zita was horrified and promptly went off to the kitchen to make him some weak tea, while he continued with his story.

“You see, one foul day, I don’t really know how long ago, while I was tarrying at the Ritz-intercontinental, making my annual visit to the crusader castles in the vicinity of Amman. Have you ever seen the Karak Des Chevaliers, it’s so wonderful! Oh yes, so wonderful. ” His eyes unfocused and he stared out the dark window for several seconds.

“Ahhh.... well. I suspect someone unknown put a sleeping drought in my good-morning Coca-Cola float. The next thing I knew I was tied to the top of a huge bookshelf, in a rather grimy book store; where I didn’t know anybody or recognize anything.”

He suddenly placed his hand against the wall to brace himself. Craig said, “Quick, get him some porridge!” Two of the Queen’s Own rushed into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later he was on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, munching on a tremendous mound of cheese Ritz, warming his hands on the cup of tea. (Zita had cancelled the porridge.) He was explaining that throughout this adventure, though he was sometimes very confused and often even quite upset, we should all understand that he was never in the least bit frightened. (He had been brought up properly and Rhinosasaurises were never, ever frightened.)

Zita said she was sure that he was not in the least bit afraid, but perhaps he would like to have a bit more to eat and then a small sleep. We could discuss it all in the morning, giving a pointed glance at Dugal.

“Why yes thank you. That would be really quite nice; as long as it does not put any of you to any trouble.” As he said this, he toppled over quite asleep and was carried upstairs to the den by the two Dragons. One of the better behaved of the Queen’s Own was asked to keep watch over him, just in case he awoke and could not remember where he was.

Zita then asked the TeddyBears to have someone bring down the Safari Jacket so that she could wash and mend it before their guest awoke.

(All Animeaux are very neat and tidy, and since they have never been known to go out visiting in un-pressed clothes or less than perfect socks, they all realized that the new guest would be needlessly agitated if he had to appear for breakfast in the disheveled state he had arrived in. As a small aid The Queen’s Own had left some of their favourite French bath talc, a lint brush, some new red and green argyle socks, a mirror and the Dust Buster - on the floor beside the sofa.)

The Tale of The Rhinosasauri

Downstairs Craig and Dugal were lounging in the living room. The Colonel had put one of his Edgar discs on the stereo and brought out some vintage Tonic Water for Craig. He had poured himself a large dram of his currently favoured layaway. They were about to discuss Rhinosasauri.

“They are a noble nation, The Rhinosasauri. ‘Patently they live somewhere up ‘round Lake Tanganyika; hidden far up the reaches of the Blue Nile. Been there since them Angles painted themselves blue. The family first ran into them when they captured a full brigade of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers - some little time after Victoria was crowned - must have been somewhere round the late 40’s, I would hazard for a guess. Now by the time the Rhinosasauri released them poor buggers, the silly Book-Wallahs in high command had given them all up for lost; but one day, marching down Cairo High Street, comes the whole covey of them - singing what was later to become the Triumphal March from Aida.

It was quite a sight to be sure, albeit just a tad strange. It seems that their Colonel had promised the King of the Rhinosasauri the freedom of the Empire - in the name of the young Queen. What was to be done? Couldn’t let the side down ya’see. So there we were, treaty bound to a Nation who looked like rhinoceroses, spoke like a cold dawn in the Kirk, had more pride then a stew of Highland chefs, and were more stubborn then a bag full of hammers.”

Dugal leaned back and loosened his shoes, “Grandfather used to talk about these happenings all the time - when the distaff side was out opening the summer fêtes. He said that he was damned if they didn’t take to wearing our service pith helmets, and carrying on like so many members of The Lords on bath day. Made a real nuisance of themselves for a while. Great-grand Uncle Austin, who was in command of the Scots Grays at the time, ran off with twin gyppo belly dancers just to have some peace and quiet. Well, as I understand, they finally left Cairo - but from then on they kept showing up unannounced on Active Service. In the midst of some desperate skirmish with The Awful Woggoes; you’d look up, and there, coming through the fog of battle would be a Horde of pith-helmeted Rhinosasauri Foot singing “Men of Harlech” in a soaring baritone chorus, as they were about to rudely dispatch some of the numerous heathens whose lands we were pinching. ‘Tis no a surprise that they and our Gurkhas got along like two Kings on vacation.

Can’t ‘member how many times we heard the story ‘bout how they showed up at the very last moment - and with a quick flanking charge, drove off those Zulu fellows, saving all those poor buggers at Rourke’s Drift. Part of their old bargain with the Welsh they said. Never did take any credit for it. That’s the Rhinosasauri for you though; just get on with it, and don’t say it ‘gain.

Took terrible casualties at the Somme and Verdun. Fought ‘longside your poor fellows at that “Wipers” fiasco. Big investigations! Fired half the General Staff. Not nearly ‘nuff mind you.... Left that awful fellow Haig around - blended Scotch - What on earth did they expect! Silly-Bloody-Sassenachs.”

At this point Dugal poured some more of his Glenmorangie into his big brass cup, and Craig got a couple more pillows. It always took Dugal a while to tell his stories.

“Years later; in the next war, they ended up bored to tears in Alex. They and some crazy New Zealanders. Now it has often troubled me, how does one really know if an Australian is crazy or is really a New Zealander. Ahhh... we spent many an hour in the Mess over that one. Where was I? Oh yes! ....all of them, and that mad man Bagnold started racing round and round in their little trucks, generally making a prime nuisance of themselves, but I’ll tell you, them Rhinosasauri knew the Libyan Desert as well as any heathen, so they played bloody hell with the Boche supply lines. ‘Named them the Long Range Dessert Group - generally made more trouble for Jerry then for us. Though the Royal Nursing Corps might have argued the point. Ahhh well.... A wee bit later they all up and followed that terrible lunatic fellow Stirling when he ‘cided to form up a bunch of the lads for a spot of danger, cheap thrills, and worse scotch. Y’see I was his 2-I-C at the time. Called us the Special Air Services. ‘Parently some silly bugger in White Hall thought that it might do some good if we were confused with the Scandinavian Airline Services from time to time. From then on the Rhinosasauri have always had a few of their fellows assigned to the regiment. Great success they made of themselves from one end of the big red map to’other.”

Dugal paused and looked around, “To tell the truth, they seem to have got it all mixed up. Always seemed to be off having assignations with Scandinavians. They ‘peared to think it was part of their duties. No matter how often we tried to explain that The S.A.S. and the SAS were completely different organizations, the Rhinosasauri kept showing up at regimental dances draped with tall blonde stewardesses, named Brijit and Sonja or Ingrid. Sort of a tradition with them by then I would think. Ahhh well.

Those were the.... Ahhh…. Away away…. it was at one of these regimental dances, up in Cromarty, where I met my friend the Commander Rhinosasauris and his “friend” - Miss Tanya. Now you see we never could pronounce the Rhinosasauri names, so we called them by rank; Sergeant-Major Rhinosasauris, Commodore Rhinosasauris etc, etc.... Worked fine, never more than a couple of dozen in at a time Y’see. Well we, the Commander and I, were out together - doing some extended sunbathing in The Malay campaign - also in that unpleasantness out in Aden. Good man the Commander, didn’t talk much, hung around with the politicos. Always scheming an awkward surprise for some of the benighted.”

He hick-upped as he laughed and apologized, “They were very good times don’t you know, me the Commander and - well others - Last time I heard of him he had got himself into a spot of trouble in the near east - doing a bit of liaison work with the Mossad. He was lent to them after that dashed unfortunate episode with his brother-in-law the Crown Prince. I’m sure you heard of it. Was in all the papers. Now I have had word that he has been trapped and interned by some of the scoundrels that seem to thrive over there. ‘Should like to help if we could - ‘know both the Dragon Dragoons and the Queen’s Own are ready to volunteer.”

“Ahh Ha!” thought Craig. Dugal wants permission to rescue his old friend, and has been buttering me up for the last couple of hours.

“Well....” he said, “you don’t know where your friend is at the moment do you?”

“Achhh well - not yet; but if you give me leave, I’ll make some discrete phone calls, and we will find him soon; if it is not already too late.” Dugal said looking sadly off into the distance.

What could he do? The chances of finding this Rhinosasauris were rather small so he might as well give the Colonel permission. It would be easier in the long run he guessed.

“Well Dugal, I’ll write out the orders tonight, and don’t worry about the phone bill. We might as well do it right. If by some mischance you happen to tell Zita, make a point of saying it’s a rescue mission. She is not partial to military endeavours you know, what with all the fuss in the Post Office, not to overlook the guns hidden under her gran’dad’s front hall, the Twelve Apostles and all.”

“Mums The Word” said Dugal as he went to get paper and pen.