All is quiet, all is dark. Groundcrew sitting outside mess tents prior to turning in when the night is ripped asunder by the lights of a Land Rover turning into the site. Hides are lit up, comms centre is illuminated, and, heaven forbid, the beer stash is exposed.
The site commander jumps from his seat screaming "Turn those bl***y lights out!" as he storms towards the offending vehicle. THUNK, the lights go out.
SPLASH "Turn those bl***y lights on!" BLINK, the lights go on and there to the amusement of all is the site commander up to his chest in the slop trench outside the mess tent.
