The Cadet Sergeant Major by Christopher Cummings

commander had been issued with both and they belonged to the unit, not the army.
    Graham checked the time. Nearly twenty past six. ‘Ten minutes longer than I should take,’ he noted irritably, angry with himself. He glanced across at the officer’s camp and noted the cluster of OOCs and CUOs sitting or standing around the fire. At Graham’s call the platoon sergeants reported that there were no radios or compasses missing. He said, “Good. Any sick can report to the medics as soon as you are fallen out. Remember you have inspections at 0730: Hygiene and gear. Platoon sergeants there are still two latrines to dig. I will show you where. You provide me with a work party of one lance corporal and two diggers. Company parade is at 0800 here. Platoon sergeants, carry on!”
    Graham stood and watched as the platoon sergeants marched their platoons away. Sgt Griffin waited till HQ was gone but then, instead of turning them left, as the easiest way to get them back to their area, he turned them right. This wouldn’t have been so obvious if he had then ordered ‘quick march and ‘right wheel’ as that would have put the corporals at the front, which was normal. Instead he ordered an ‘about turn.’
    From among the ranks of 4 Platoon came an aggrieved, “Make up yer bloody mind!”
    Graham could not identify the culprit but he snarled, “Silence in the ranks!”
    Sgt Griffin gave him a sheepish look and then got the platoon marching.
    Graham groaned inwardly. ‘Bloody drongo!’ he thought. Shaking his head he turned and marched towards the officer’s camp. The check parade had been entirely his business. The officers and CUOs were not involved. They sat or stood around the fire. Graham marched up to Capt Conkey. Being ‘in the field’ he did not salute.
    â€œAll present sir. No radios or compasses missing and no sick.”
    â€œVery good CSM,” Capt Conkey replied with a cheerful grin. “Carry on.”
    â€œCompany Roll please sir,” Graham asked, still standing stiffly to attention.
    Capt Conkey was busy describing an incident with Sgt Griffin during a bivouac earlier in the year. He pointed with a cup of coffee. “My briefcase CSM.”
    Graham extracted the roll book and sat on a log to mark it. While he did he listened to the story. Capt Conkey continued in his hearing because Griffin was of a lower rank and therefore the CSM’s business. The story confirmed everything Graham thought about Griffin.
    As soon as he had marked the roll Graham went on his way, leaving the officers to talk. Normally he liked to sit and listen to their stories and discussions but at that moment he had too much to do. He liked the officers. They were not like normal army officers. They were Officers of Cadets, although the OC, 2ic and QM had been, or were, officers of the Army Reserve. All were teachers who ran the cadet unit as a part-time, mostly unpaid ‘extra’.
    Graham did not linger. He marched over to where HQ sat in a circle having breakfast.
    â€œWhat have we got?”
    â€œVienna sausage, potatoes and peas,” Peter replied. Graham quickly hauled out his stove and mess tins. He poured water into a mess tin, then struck a match and lit the half block of hexamine in the stove. It flared into flame and Graham smiled. He knew he did this every time because the smell of hexamine conjured up thoughts of food and warm drink; and many happy memories. ‘Like that bloody Russian’s dog that salivated every time it heard a bell. That’s me and hexamine,’ he thought. Still smiling he placed the mess tin of water on to heat.
    Peter passed him food tins. Graham spooned his share into the other mess tin. Coffee and sugar were added to his Cup Canteen Steel. He quickly prepared the hot drink and food, listening to the cheerful banter of the others but not joining in. His mind was too busy planning his day.
    Graham ate