on manoeuvres with the irish army

The plains of Kildare.
A cold February wind gusts through the hedgerows.
A slew of army vehicles, armoured personnel carriers, jeeps and the odd innocent looking tank are careening around.
On the edge of a hill, Brigadier Berrigan and some fresh faced recruits are crowded around a map table.
Occasional droplets of rain spatter the map.
"Now then," barks the Brigadier all business like. "Young Flynn, tell me what you'd do in the event of an invasion of Ireland."
Flynn's innocent boyish features crinkled confusedly.
In the film version you get the feeling, he won't last long.
"I can't imagine anyone invading Ireland Sir," he ventured. "I mean how could such a thing possibly happen?"
The Brigadier sighed.
"Alright," he said. "Imagine this. Al Qaeda suddenly activates a terror army which it has already infiltrated into Ireland. There are assassinations. Riots. Arson in the suburbs. Bombs are detonating in city centre locations. There is blood in the streets. The Muslims are attempting to secede a selected region with a large Muslim immigrant population from the rest of Ireland. The same way they did in Cyprus, Serbia, the Phillipines, Thailand, China, Russia and India. What do you do? What... do... you... do?"
There was an awkward silence.
Private O'Wienerschnitzel raised a sheepish hand.
"Yes O'Wienerschnitzel," growled the Brigadier.
"We could all sue the State for deafness," he chirruped. "You know. With all the bombs going off. Our hearing is bound to be affected. Remember we did it before. Judge Liberal forced the Irish tax payer to give us all free money. We could do it again. That means everyone would benefit from the invasion. At least the invaders would. And, er, us."
The Brigadier put his head in his hands.
Another young talent leapt forward.
"Now you're talking," cried Private Kelly. "And we could put in for danger money. And maybe take additional law suits for stress and anxiety. We've done that before too."
The Brigadier stared into the middle distance.
These answers were not what he was hoping for.
Private Sherridan spoke up.
"I've an idea," he enthused. "We could deploy our forces to Lebanon and run pass defence for the Iranian backed terror army Hezbollah in its attempts to destroy the State of Israel. We could do this while posing as strictly neutral peace keepers. And we could deploy any spare units to Chad and Sudan to help uphold the Islamist Sudanese governments genocide against the Darfuran people. We've had plenty of practice by Jove. And in going to Chad we'll also be doing our bit to prop up French influence in Africa. There's a noble cause worth dying for. Sacre Bleu. At the same time we can make clear that we're going to continue to play absolutely no role in the War On Terror. Let the Mussies know we're their friends. Maybe then when Al Qaeda actually takes over Ireland, they'll let us keep our nice cars and houses and silly money pay packets."
Brigadier Berrigan smiled bitterly.
He was in many ways a true soldier.
Rough as a badger's arse but possessed of a genuine intellect and not a little love for Ireland.
Unlike these others, he knew the simple truth.
People who are unwilling to defend their countries, lose them.