Paul Ackerman &The Blue Peter Badg

Okay, here's a funny story about Paul Ackerman, the Welsh Guard, and his legendary (and slightly exaggerated) exploits at Goose Green:

The Ballad of Ackerman and the Blue Peter Badge.

The wind whipped across Goose Green, carrying the distinct scent of damp wool and impending skirmish. In the thick of it, a blur of camouflage and grit, was Paul Ackerman of the Welsh Guards. Now, Paul wasn't your typical grizzled commando. He was more… enthusiastically clumsy. His most famous pre-war achievement was accidentally setting fire to the regimental kettle during a tea-making competition.

But today, something was different. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps he’d had a particularly strong cup of tea that morning, but as the order to advance came, Paul found himself with his bayonet fixed, gleaming menacingly in the pale Falklands light."Right, lads!" he bellowed, sounding remarkably like a slightly startled goose. "Let's show 'em what for!"

The next few minutes were, shall we say, a blur of controlled chaos. Paul, in a moment of pure, unadulterated zeal, somehow became separated from his section. He rounded a small hillock, bayonet held aloft like a particularly pointy flag, and found himself face-to-face not with a lone Argentine soldier, but with what appeared to be an entire company of them, mid-biscuit break.

Silence.

Paul stared. The Argentinians stared. A pigeon, sensing the awkwardness, flew past with a nervous coo.

Then, Paul did something truly remarkable. Whether it was a battle cry, a yelp of surprise, or just a very loud burp, no one could quite agree. But whatever the sound, it was accompanied by Paul charging forward, not with tactical precision, but with the unbridled enthusiasm of a terrier chasing a particularly plump sausage.

He didn't fight like a lion; he fought like a slightly confused but very determined badger who’d been told there was cake at the end of the tunnel.

He tripped, he stumbled, he nearly impaled a very surprised sheep. But through sheer, improbable luck and the Argentinians being utterly bewildered by this singular, flailing Welshman, he somehow managed to create the impression of a one-man whirlwind of destruction.

One Argentine soldier, later interviewed, recalled, "He wasn't fighting, exactly. More like… aggressively tidying the battlefield with a sharp stick. We thought he was mad. Like, really mad. So we surrendered. It seemed the safest option."

When the smoke cleared (mostly from Paul accidentally setting off a flare in his own pocket), Paul Ackerman stood, slightly disheveled, bayonet still clutched, with a line of bewildered Argentine soldiers politely waiting to be escorted away. He’d done it. He’d, well, he’d certainly done something.

Back at base, the commendations were flying. "Ackerman, you absolute legend!" roared his commanding officer, thumping him on the back. "Took on a whole company, eh? Fought like a lion!"Paul, still trying to remember if he’d had breakfast, just nodded modestly. "Just doing my job, sir."

A few weeks later, a package arrived for Paul. Inside, nestled amongst some officiallooking documents, was a small, shiny badge. It was round, blue, and had a distinctive boat on it.

Paul stared. "A Blue Peter badge?" he mumbled, utterly baffled. "For… for taking a company of Argentinians? Is this normal?"

His mates roared with laughter. "Job well done, Ackerman!" one of them choked out. "Seems even the BBC thinks you're a hero!"

And so, Paul Ackerman, the Welsh Guard who accidentally captured an Argentine company with the sheer force of his awkward enthusiasm, went down in history not just as a hero of Goose Green, but as the only soldier in the Falklands War to be awarded a Blue Peter badge for gallantry. And he still occasionally wonders if he should write to them and ask if he can guest on the show to demonstrate his excellent tea-making skills (now without fire).