In all likelihood, yes, very deleted. This is a scene ostensibly from Episode 3, that I like but probably fits the rest of a story like Bryan Mannix's pants fit Alan Brough. As always, I will inform you why the following is crap, just in case you can't see it for yourself...
I wanted to do a tribute scene to just how frigging retarded UNIT could be, and were, during the Pertwee era of the show. Specifically, the late Pertwee era when they spend a bewildering amount of time in plain clothes, gasping in shock at stuff, being made fun of by basically every irritating guest star and generally being prats.
This is problematic, as a harking-back to how utterly, incredibly pathetic they were circa 1973 is a bit odd, when the rest of my story tries to re-invent them a little bit, as people who actually understand and know how to fight aliens. And Episode 3 is an odd point for this particular piece of tomfoolery. Of course, it's small-scale compared to the indignities of The Green Death and, in their defense, they have just lost their base to the most terrifying of alien menaces.
Anyway, here it is:
EXT. CAFE (DAY)
(The same street-side cafe that the Doctor and Peri were at earlier - now their seats are occupied by Larkhill and Russell. They are both sans-caps but in their slightly grubby fatigues, staring into the distance. However, they attract no attention - this is a place that has had the Doctor and his technicolour dream coat earlier in the day, after all...)
LARKHILL: It's strange, isn't it?
RUSSELL: What is?
LARKHILL: All these people here. To them this is just another day. Another day of... bills. Working hours. Commuting. Petrol prices. Normal things. We live in different worlds, Lieutenant. Right now I almost wish I could live in theirs..
RUSSELL: You won't in about half-an-hour's time.
(Larkhill nods sombrely)
(Carver emerges from inside the cafe, awkwardly balancing a cup of tea that is filled to the very brim of the cup. She manages to navigate to the table, though, and looks suitably serious when she addresses Larkhill)
CARVER: Ma'am. Command appreciate the level of emergency..
CARVER: But... there's no way they can spin an airborne payload being dropped onto Deltech.
(Carver sits herself down.)
RUSSELL: I can't say I'm particularly surprised...
LARKHILL: What else did they say?
CARVER: Colonel Crawford will be here tomorrow to assume command of operations in the city.
LARKHILL: Tomorrow? We've got to deal with this now. We can't just sit around..
(She trails off as Carver sips her drink.)
LARKHILL: Is that tea?
CARVER (deadpan) The phone was paying customers only, ma'am. Did you want me to get you one?
LARKHILL: Damn it all to hell, we're a professional organisation!
CARVER: Well, so are they, ma'am. Command expected you to make the call, ma'am.
RUSSELL: Rank has it's priviledges, Corporal. Like not looking a complete fool in public. (Looking to Larkhill) Fall out?
(Larkhill nods. They all get up to leave and gradually begin walking down the street.)
CARVER: So what now, ma'am?
LARKHILL: I've got command of all forces in the city for the rest of the day and I intend to use it. We're going to call in the Battersea barracks - that's at least two dozen good men. First things first, though, I need to get ahold of whichever Regular Army stooge shows up at Deltech first and take command from them. It shouldn't be hard - only an idiot would want it.
And then there was meant to be a bit where Carver asked about leaving a tip, but that was WAAAY too goofy so that's gone.