Stg. Salty Training in Glenbarrow Waterfall, Co. Laois Hiking

 

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Chapter 4: The Tactical Dip

The "unscheduled, tactical refreshment break" was already devolving into exactly the kind of chaos Sergeant Salty had feared. He sat stiffly on the tartan blanket, nursing his tea and watching his two separate squads mingle like oil and... well, oil and even more oil, but with jam. Ye Olde Large Lad was now competing with Giggles in a scone-eating contest, while McFinleyyy was attempting to teach Snaps how to properly angle a selfie stick to include the waterfall and his own impressive beard simultaneously.

Salty was just starting to feel the warmth of the tea soothe his frayed nerves when the next complication arose, delivered, predictably, by Sarah and Susan.

"Sarge," Sarah began, adopting a tone of utmost seriousness that Salty immediately recognized as a prelude to something deeply unserious. "We've completed the sustenance phase of the tactical break."

"Indeed, Sergeant," Susan continued, nodding solemnly. "And now, we must address the issue of thermal regulation and muscle recovery."

Salty blinked. "Thermal regulation? Muscle recovery? What are you two going on about? We're having a picnic!"

"Precisely," Sarah stated, gesturing towards the roaring, icy-looking plunge pool at the base of the waterfall. "A strenuous climb demands proper cool-down. The water temperature of the Owenass River, particularly post-cascade, offers an optimal environment for cryotherapy."

Susan placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "It’s practically a military necessity, Sarge. Think of the anti-inflammatory benefits! We simply must have a swim."

Salty choked on his tea. "A swim?! Are you mad, Private? That water is barely above freezing! It's an Irish waterfall, not a Mediterranean resort! This is not a spa day, this is a... a highly structured, character-building military exercise!"

"But Sarge, it’s building character in the aquatic sense," McFinleyyy chimed in helpfully, stepping away from his selfie lesson. "Imagine the fortitude! Who wouldn't be impressed by a fully submerged soldier in November? Very intimidating to potential rogue sheep, I'd say."

"Private McFinleyyy, I did not ask for your tactical assessment of sheep intimidation!" Salty snapped.

Ye Olde Large Lad, catching his breath after winning the scone contest, spoke up in his deep rumble. "I think it looks refreshing, Sarge. Very... cleansing."

Giggles, always ready to find the humour in impending doom, let out a nervous chuckle. "Imagine the shrinkage, Sarge! Pure character-building!"

Salty threw his hands up in exasperation. "No! Absolutely not! You'll catch pneumonia! You'll freeze your... your appendages off! It's utterly reckless!"

"But Sergeant," Sarah pressed, her eyes wide and innocent. "Isn't recklessness often an essential component of bold tactical maneuvers?"

Susan was already digging through her rucksack and pulled out what appeared to be a very brightly coloured, floral swimming cap. "We came prepared, Sarge. We anticipated the need for rigorous recovery protocols."

Salty glared at the bright cap, then at the churning water. He pictured the official report: 'Sergeant Saltmarsh permitted two subordinates to develop hypothermia in the pursuit of cryotherapy.' The sheer indignity of it was staggering.

"Alright! Alright!" Salty conceded, rubbing his temples furiously. "One condition! No more than five minutes! And you will only enter the water up to your waist! This is a controlled experiment in thermal shock, not a bloody synchronized swimming routine! And if anyone, anyone, starts shivering uncontrollably, you are out immediately!"

Sarah and Susan cheered, stripping down to surprisingly sensible, dark swimsuits beneath their uniforms with practiced speed. Before Salty could fully object to the rapidity of the costume change, they were wading into the frigid pool, letting out loud, theatrical gasps.

The sight of the two privates purposefully wading into the roaring white water had a mesmerizing effect on the others. McFinleyyy pulled out his phone, ready to document the "bold tactical maneuver." Snaps meticulously adjusted his camera settings, predicting the exact light conditions necessary to capture the steam rising from their skin. Giggles just stood and shivered in sympathy.

Salty watched, arms crossed, maintaining the rigid posture of a man who was actively disapproving of every single decision being made, yet knew he had utterly lost the battle.

"See, Sarge?" McFinleyyy whispered excitedly. "Look at the determination! True grit!"

Salty grunted, taking another large sip of his tea. "It's lunacy, Private. Pure, unadulterated lunacy."

Just as the five-minute timer (which Salty was covertly tracking on his watch) was about to expire, Sarah turned back toward the group, her teeth chattering only slightly.

"Sergeant!" she called out, her voice amplified by the waterfall's roar. "The tactical recovery is proceeding perfectly! But, we've spotted something! An unidentified submerged object near the falls!"

Salty instantly snapped to attention. "An object?! What kind of object, Private?"

"It looks... shiny," Susan added, pointing a blue finger towards the churning water. "And metallic! Could be enemy intelligence!"

Salty was on his feet in a flash, all thoughts of picnics and hypothermia forgotten. An unidentified submerged object near a classified military training ground? This was exactly the kind of unexpected complication he thrived on!

"Snaps! Get a visual!" Salty bellowed, grabbing his own binoculars. "Giggles! Be ready to cover fire! Everyone, assume tactical alert! This exercise just got serious!"

The unscheduled rendezvous was officially over. Operation: Tactical Dip had just morphed into Operation: Submerged Shiny Thing.

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