Chapter 7
The passing out parade at Sandhurst is a fine and prestigious tradition. A new set of young officers, turned out and ready for service. Training completed, we were now eager and willing to join our regiments and serve our queen and country. Two hundred and fifty of us, from all sorts of backgrounds, were formed up perfectly on the main parade square in front of the grand Georgian building. Sniff backs, stiff upper-lipped, and all holding back the tears.
The families and friends of all the young soldier's sat in their smart suits and dresses, mothers sniffing into hankies, fathers never more proud. I could see my parents, smiling. My father nodding sincerely. My mother entranced by the music of the military band. My girlfriend Elena smiling her perfect smile. My sister taking sneaky photos on her mobile phone. My brother Ferdinand fidgeting in his dark suit and looking at his watch.
To the left, I could see some of the NCOs we'd had the pleasure of meeting during our training. The fearsome corporals. The sadistic sergeants. The dead pan captains. All dressed in their finest mess dress - red coats, black trousers, boots so polished they looked like mirrors, and swords glinting in the sunlight. And us new officers, turned out more smartly like we'd never been turned out before. My fellow former cadets, friends, with whom I'd never got through the punishing routines. I glanced for the umpteenth time at the gold threaded little pips on my shoulders, an indication of my newly appointed status as a ranking officer. We were leaders now. Leaders of men.