Back In Action

Chapter Thirteen

David glanced at his watch, then took his copy of Daily Orders from his breast pocket, unfolded it and turned to Garth. "The zero seven fifty Parade. That's a daily thing?"

"Yes, roll call, flag raising and inspection are the main things. Fridays are graduation parades if there's a course ending. Also, every Friday there's a memorial for alumni casualties during the week. Thankfully, they've been short lists the past while."

"I've missed much of the news the past two months. I'll need to catch up on it."

"We've a large archive of newspapers, files of situation reports and maps with position plots. They're all in the mess reading room."

"Mess. That reminds me." David ran his finger down the orders. "Here, eighteen thirty — Mess. Is that in uniform or lounge suit?"

"Either. It's a mandatory parade. Most wear their uniform since they've neither mess dress nor a lounge suit yet." Garth laughed and looked at the other three. "Particularly these underpaid Brits."

Richard did a raspberry at Garth. "Bloody rich colonials." He pointed to the clock on the wall. "We should go. Parade's in six minutes."

Seven companies formed up in the Quadrangle in an open hollow square in front of the flag staff. The Company Sergeants-Major did roll calls, then the officers were fallen in, and at zero eight hundred, the flag was raised as the band played God Save the King.

After the flag had been hoisted, Company inspections commenced. The Lieutenant stopped in front of David. "I hope you're a Pioneer with those whiskers."

"Yes, I am, Sir."

The Lieutenant looked closely at his beard. "Well-trimmed. Keep it that way while you're here."

"Yes, Sir." He felt a tension ease. One he hadn't realised was there. Could have done the medical exemption Picot suggested, but this is easier.

When the inspection was complete, the inspecting officer stood in front of them and spoke. "I'm Lieutenant Condon, your Company Commander." He looked to his left and right. "These are your Platoon Commanders, Second Lieutenants Bishop and Richards. You'll be divided alphabetically." He glanced at his note, then continued. "Allan to Mitchell with Second Lieutenant Bishop as One Platoon, Moore to Wilkins with Second Lieutenant Richards as Two Platoon."

He welcomed the group to the school, outlined the course and the standing orders, protocols and procedures, then concluded with, "Remember this well. You are being assessed the entire time you are here, whether it's on morning run, on parade, in class, in field exercises, in the mess or walking in town. It all counts. You're assessed in all your actions, whether working or relaxing. That's how the enlisted men see their officers."

He motioned his swagger stick toward the two Platoon Commanders, to the Sergeant-Major and to the two Sergeants. "We're all here to help you. We want you to succeed. Britain needs you to succeed." He turned to the Sergeant-Major and introduced him as Weber, then said, "He'll introduce you to your Sergeants. We will see you later this morning."

Sergeant-Major Weber bellowed, "Atennnn — shuh." He saluted, and the officers left, then he paced in an oval pattern until the officers were out of earshot before he said, "You're a fucking motley crew." He pointed his finger into the Company, singling out the five wearing civvies. "Some of you are too proud to wear your old uniforms. You're not fucking officers yet." He pointed at David. "You, furry face, where's your fucking uniform?"

"I buried it behind the German lines in Belgium, Sergeant-Major. Quartermaster stores didn't follow me as I evaded." There were many choked laughs in the Company, and a few which were much more audible.

"Silence!" Weber snapped his head toward some of the louder laughter and tried to hide his amusement. "Good answer. And the blonde fur on your face? You also buried your razor?"

"No, Sergeant-Major. My face had been ripped to shreds by shrapnel and it was difficult to shave that way."

"From the length of your beard, it must be well healed by now. Have you a medical exemption preventing you from shaving?"

"No, Sergeant-Major, but I..."

"No buts, Cadet. You'll present to me with a cleanly shaved face before you go to the mess for lunch."

"Yes, Sergeant-Major."

Weber gave a loud huff as he turned and pointed his swagger stick at another man dressed in civvies. "You! — Yes, you. Where's your uniform, Cadet?"

"Baggage hasn't arrived yet."

"Hasn't arrived yet, what?"

"Hasn't arrived here yet."

"Arrived here yet, what?"

"Here at the school."

"At the school, what?"

"This one, Oxford."

"Oxford, what?"

Someone in the rear rank said. "Oxford, Sergeant-Major."

"Silence!" He looked across toward the voice. "I wanted to see how long it would take this dunderhead to understand respect. Respect includes using a person's rank when addressing him. So tell me again why you're dressed in civvies, Cadet."

"My baggage has yet to arrive, Sergeant-Major."

Weber pointed to the other three. "Same excuse for you, delayed baggage?"

"Yes, Sergeant-Major" was repeated by all three.

"Fine." He strode back to centre himself on the front of the Company. "Most of you are in your issued uniforms. Those of you who have not done so already, remove your old rank badges. You're no longer Lance Corporals, Corporals or Sergeants, you're Cadets now. Remove them before you go to Mess for lunch."

He began pacing in an oval again. "You're all required to purchase proper officer's uniforms and kit. That will be your mandatory dress from the fourth week onward. That's why you saw five smartly-dressed companies on parade a while ago."

The Sergeant-Major then talked on a variety of topics, concluding with: "The entire structure of the Army depends on discipline and respect. Self-discipline and self-respect are essential, but most important is a deep respect for those you lead. Remember this. You must respect your men if you expect respect in return. Without respect, there's no leadership. Without leadership, there's chaos."

He signalled to the two Sergeants. "Your last session this morning before lunch will be a presentation on uniforms and kit. To fill your time until then, I'll leave you with Sergeants Jenkins and Rawson. You met Sergeant Jenkins earlier this morning, so the smarter among you will deduce the other to be Sergeant Rawson. They'll be refreshing your memories of parade ground drill so you'll look less like a gaggle of geese for tomorrow morning's parade."