We had a Change of Command parade on Thursday. I
currently work at the Canadian Forces School of
Aerospace Technology and Engineering, so think
new principal, or dean. In order to commemorate
this event (some guy I never see is taking over
the job from some other guy I never see), about
two hundred of us "volunteered" to be on parade.
(The Chief asked for volunteers, so our MWO
"volunteered" our section.)
Of course, to make sure we all looked good out there, we had to have two "practice" parades before the real event, each lasting a couple of hours, and mostly on our own time. God forbid we might have forgotten how to stand at attention, stand-at-ease, or stand-easy after 20 odd years in the military. (In truth, the practices aren't really for the rank and file--they're for the officers and senior non-comms, who've forgotten how to tell us to stand at attention, stand-at-ease, and stand-easy.) *head-desk*
The weather here has been hot and humid the past few days, which was bad enough for the parade practices, but the actual parade was held indoors in a building with absolutely zero ventilation. It had to be at least 90 degrees in there, and humid. In their wisdom, they decided we'd be dressed in the full bib and tucker: shirt, tie, jacket, pants, boots, hat.
They formed us up at 8:30 for a parade that didn't actually start until 9:30, so we stood there at-ease until 9:55 and then were marched on. (At-ease, btw, is not as comfy as it sounds. In the CF, it means standing perfectly still, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind your back, head up, shoulders back, and looking straight ahead.)
At about 9:45, after we'd been out in this heat and humidity for about 45 minutes, and in front of all the civilian and military spectators who were seated for the ceremony, a private in the front rank thundered in. (Meaning he passed out.) I couldn't see him from my vantage point in the ranks, but when someone faints on parade, it's not the usual slump-to-the-ground kind of faint. What with all their joints locked, it's more the timber! kind of faint, and he crashed face-first into the concrete floor. I don't know how badly he was hurt, but the look of shock and horror on the faces of the spectators, the chilling sounds of someone who is barely conscious and in excruciating pain moaning like a wounded animal, and the guy who ran out with the bucket and mop to clean up all the blood off of the parade square after they'd carted the private away in a stretcher, leads me to believe it was pretty serious. (Ironically, this added probably another 20 minutes to the length of the parade.)
To give him credit, our outgoing C.O. looked mortified, and ordered us to Stand-easy as much as he could get away with(which is a more relaxed position in that you can fidget a bit and keep the blood flowing.)
Still, here I was, 45 years old, with sweat streaming down my face, back and legs, my right shoulder throbbing, the small of my back on fire, my heels aching, and my toes asleep, and I'm wondering what the frack I'm doing here. No sane person would go through this, simply because their boss was changing jobs. Anyone in their right mind would have just walked off (or would never have been there in the first place).
These guys aren't soldiers. They don't train for this everyday. They're lucky if they get Physical Training three times a week. They're technicians--hell, they're teachers.
But they're still military.
And that's the reason the young private thundered in. He takes pride in what he does, and what he is. Sure, you're allowed to go down on one knee if you're feeling faint. Someone will come from the sidelines to lead you off parade. But it's been drilled into us since boot camp that that's a sign of weakness. (Some units actually met out punishment if you go down on one knee--although that's a lot more rare in the Airforce these days.) So they hold on until the last possible moment, and then some, usually until it's too late.
After the first guy went down, they were a lot more diligent. If someone even looked wobbly one of the senior staff in the audience would come and walk him off. Still, the parade went on for another hour and forty-five minutes after that.
And I can't help but wonder how it was worth this guys face--all for ceremony and show. He wasn't wounded defending his position--he was injured so that a couple of officers can hold their little tradition and feel good about themselves, while everyone hears about their career accomplishments and where they're off to next. It's not like they didn't see this coming--that's why there are stretcher bearers and Medics there in the first place. They expect this.
It's senseless--just like the rest of the world.
Of course, to make sure we all looked good out there, we had to have two "practice" parades before the real event, each lasting a couple of hours, and mostly on our own time. God forbid we might have forgotten how to stand at attention, stand-at-ease, or stand-easy after 20 odd years in the military. (In truth, the practices aren't really for the rank and file--they're for the officers and senior non-comms, who've forgotten how to tell us to stand at attention, stand-at-ease, and stand-easy.) *head-desk*
The weather here has been hot and humid the past few days, which was bad enough for the parade practices, but the actual parade was held indoors in a building with absolutely zero ventilation. It had to be at least 90 degrees in there, and humid. In their wisdom, they decided we'd be dressed in the full bib and tucker: shirt, tie, jacket, pants, boots, hat.
They formed us up at 8:30 for a parade that didn't actually start until 9:30, so we stood there at-ease until 9:55 and then were marched on. (At-ease, btw, is not as comfy as it sounds. In the CF, it means standing perfectly still, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind your back, head up, shoulders back, and looking straight ahead.)
At about 9:45, after we'd been out in this heat and humidity for about 45 minutes, and in front of all the civilian and military spectators who were seated for the ceremony, a private in the front rank thundered in. (Meaning he passed out.) I couldn't see him from my vantage point in the ranks, but when someone faints on parade, it's not the usual slump-to-the-ground kind of faint. What with all their joints locked, it's more the timber! kind of faint, and he crashed face-first into the concrete floor. I don't know how badly he was hurt, but the look of shock and horror on the faces of the spectators, the chilling sounds of someone who is barely conscious and in excruciating pain moaning like a wounded animal, and the guy who ran out with the bucket and mop to clean up all the blood off of the parade square after they'd carted the private away in a stretcher, leads me to believe it was pretty serious. (Ironically, this added probably another 20 minutes to the length of the parade.)
To give him credit, our outgoing C.O. looked mortified, and ordered us to Stand-easy as much as he could get away with(which is a more relaxed position in that you can fidget a bit and keep the blood flowing.)
Still, here I was, 45 years old, with sweat streaming down my face, back and legs, my right shoulder throbbing, the small of my back on fire, my heels aching, and my toes asleep, and I'm wondering what the frack I'm doing here. No sane person would go through this, simply because their boss was changing jobs. Anyone in their right mind would have just walked off (or would never have been there in the first place).
These guys aren't soldiers. They don't train for this everyday. They're lucky if they get Physical Training three times a week. They're technicians--hell, they're teachers.
But they're still military.
And that's the reason the young private thundered in. He takes pride in what he does, and what he is. Sure, you're allowed to go down on one knee if you're feeling faint. Someone will come from the sidelines to lead you off parade. But it's been drilled into us since boot camp that that's a sign of weakness. (Some units actually met out punishment if you go down on one knee--although that's a lot more rare in the Airforce these days.) So they hold on until the last possible moment, and then some, usually until it's too late.
After the first guy went down, they were a lot more diligent. If someone even looked wobbly one of the senior staff in the audience would come and walk him off. Still, the parade went on for another hour and forty-five minutes after that.
And I can't help but wonder how it was worth this guys face--all for ceremony and show. He wasn't wounded defending his position--he was injured so that a couple of officers can hold their little tradition and feel good about themselves, while everyone hears about their career accomplishments and where they're off to next. It's not like they didn't see this coming--that's why there are stretcher bearers and Medics there in the first place. They expect this.
It's senseless--just like the rest of the world.