There was something in the air of Aldershot that worked on Major Hugh Kennedy like spiked wine. The bones of his vertebrae fused, his jaw squared off and protruded inches high above the strangling knot of his tie, and his heels went click, click, click, click to the strict beat of the dual metronomes of his swinging arms.
He faced the desk and saluted the King’s Army in the person of his superior officer.
‘At ease.’ The old officer’s voice was dark and gravelly from years of being raised so that damn-fool natives could understand his lingo. By rights, he should have been raising it at their damn-fool white counterparts in some piddling south-coast town like Lewes, or Hove or Southsea. But because of’this little lot’ about to start on the other side of the Channel, he was reprieved from expulsion from the only man’s-life worth living.
Until the Hun was put down, and he with any luck had his own light put out with honour on the field of battle, the robes and runes and symbols of military life were still his. They were going to need every old war-horse they could muster before this little lot was over.
‘Sit down, man.’ He moved his cane a fraction closer to his gloves and smoothed the rim of his cap in which they were contained. Before he addressed his inferior officer, he ran his hands over his buttons, buckles and badges.
‘Yes… Well, young… ah… Kennedy…’
‘Sir!’
‘Got these billy-doos from the War Office. Says here you’ve been in the Boys’ Brigade then?’
‘Sir?’
‘Chaps here don’t go a bundle on weekend soldiers, but never mind… right idea. Do with young blood. Get in now – and you’ll get promotion goin’ like a dose of liquorice powder.’ He signed the papers with the dash of a cavalry officer with no time to waste on such damn piddling rubbish.
Young Kennedy waited three seconds to see whether there were any further formalities. There were not. He stood up and with two clicks was to attention.
‘That’s the ticket, Majah. Welcome to the Hogs. Best regiment in the world.’
Young Kennedy saluted.
The old war-horse returned the salute and felt to see if his epaulettes were still there whilst the young officer clicked his way across the shining floor and out into the sunshine.
The eyes of the two men had never made contact. Which was as it should be in the men’s world.