It’s one of the world’s last un-spoilt destinations. They call it ‘Mother nature’s best kept secret, Belize is about the size of Wales with a population the size of Swansea. Unlike Wales it is not full of sheep, but full of snakes, spiders and all sorts of creepy crawlies. This tropical paradise is the only English-speaking country in the region, and it is bordered by Mexico to the North and Guatemala to the South and West. Originally British Honduras, in 1973 someone decided to re-name it after the river that runs through it ‘Belize.’ The river is also known as the Sweetwater Canal, which also acts or acted as the main sewerage system. Nice. Belize finally got rid of the filthy Brits in 1981, and that's when things got a bit dodgy for them. Guatemala, their, not so friendly neighbour, had been trying to get their grubby hands on, Belize since 1839, when they claimed they inherited sovereign rights from the Spanish. The Belizean government was having none of it and came knocking back on their former colonial master’s door for assistance.
Always ready to help, especially a nation that we used to own, and a holiday paradise for our armed forces, it was decided that we’d send a lot of ground attack jets, helicopters and a sizeable number of troops to the country to protect it from the threat of invasion by those Guats. That's the way it stayed until the mid-1990s. An endless conveyer belt of barbecues, getting pissed on Belikin beer or One barrel, in the various unit bars; JB's on the Holdfast road, Raoul's, Rose Garden, the Upstairs Cafe, The Hotel Chateau Caribbean, and lots more. And not forgetting all those trips to the Cayes, Goffs and Georges to name but a few. Spending your R&R in Cancun or San Pedro on Ambergris Caye, it was one big recruiting brochure. But for some, it was a marmite posting, you either loved it or hated it. The stories from the 80s and 90’s up to the present day, I’ll leave for somebody else to tell.
My time in Belize was 1978-79. Back then I was a mere 19, year-old sprog. The average price of a house at that time was £13650, and the price of a gallon of petrol was 79p. Monday morning had arrived. Sun burnt to hell, dehydrated from serious alcohol abuse, a touch of food poisoning, the possible onset of venereal disease, feeling faint from the amount of blood the b*****d mozzies had drained from us, while we were sleeping. You could say we were fully acclimatised and ready to be deployed deep in the heart of Belize’s deadly rainforest. From my book ‘YOU WOULDN’T BELIZE IT’ 1978-79 British Forces Belize. www.clivewardauthor.com
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