There was never any shortage of stories about mishaps that occurred on parade or during drill classes. I am pretty sure everyone had something happen to them at one time or another, and perhaps not surprisingly given that drill was such an integral part of RMC back in the day.

That’s my son, the only one in step! The first couple of times I was on parade in front of spectators, I felt very exposed, thinking everyone was watching my every move, especially if I happened to be in the front row.  Later, after seeing things from the other side, because of a hockey injury, I realized with nine squadrons on parade, and a front rank of 20 or so cadets in each of those squadrons, very few if any of those spectators would even have noticed an error.  That said, it is also true that some guys had a special knack of highlighting their faux pas’.  One guy, during a Fix Bayonets command, was a little overzealous swinging his bayonet over to the muzzle of his FN C-1 rifle. That, combined with the fact it was a very cold day and we were all wearing those really smooth white gloves, caused the bayonet to slip from his grip and fly wildly across the parade square, making a very loud and clanking noise all along its wayward journey.  It is really hard to put the genie back in the bottle after that, but later he managed he recover nicely and did a very respectable “air” Unfix Bayonet when the time came.

The Infernal Pillbox. If anyone were ever to ask what kind of headdress a committee might create, the answer undoubtedly would be the pill box.  While the thing might have been useful for feeding oats to horses back in the day, it was terrible for parades.  The pill box always seemed to want to fall off, frequently requiring the wearer to jut his jaw out far enough to keep the chin strap tight.  And invariably after a long parade on a hot day, the edges would leave a dent in your forehead and the rakish angle a sunburn to half your forehead.  Interestingly, some of the more intrepid pill box wearers figured out a way help keep the darn things on their head using copious amounts of masking tape on the inside.  It was always hilarious, at least to us, to see those proactive plans backfire when the owners forgot there was going to be a “Remove Headdress” command on a particular parade. 

Speaking of those “beloved” pill boxes, one guy had his fall off early on one such parade.  That in and of itself was not unusual, but in this case, the pill box seemed to have a mind of its own, remarkably landing on its side and then continuing to roll around for about ten or fifteen seconds, immediately prompting the spectators to look in the vicinity for the culprit who, of course, was quite easy to spot sans chapeau and with a very red face.

Freedom of the City. During the Freedom of the City of Kingston, intended to commemorate the 100th anniversary of RMC, the whole Wing marched from the parade square, through the Memorial Arch, across the Lasalle Causeway bridge and all the way to City Hall to be formally granted this time-honoured and auspicious privilege.  That was a very thrilling and memorable experience, but it was not until later, when we started marching through the downtown that we realized how different this was from being on a parade square. Yes, there was a rush of emotion as we fixed bayonets according to custom and advanced left to commence the march through the city streets.  And yes, the whole Wing started off very impressively in a straight line, six deep. The Wing was perfectly in step with the band’s cadence at the start, as evidenced from a distance by the tell tale huge left wave and then a huge right wave as left boots and then right boots touched the pavement in harmony. The predicament only became obvious after the band and the leading squadrons began a right wheel up the first street.  It was not until then that the trailing cadets started hearing reverberations of the bass drum off the walls of the nearby buildings, a half a second or so later.  Some confused cadets tried to stay in step with the actual drum beat and others got fooled by the echo, with predictable results.

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time. For some unknown reason, my hair seemed to grow at a very rapid rate which some guys might think awesome but for me it was a curse as I had to get a haircut almost every week.  Of course, there never seemed to be enough time to do that, so on one occasion, knowing I had a parade the next day, a female acquaintance I was visiting volunteered to cut my hair, saying she did that for all the other girls in her dorm.  I was in a bit of a pinch so reluctantly agreed.  As there was no mirror, I could not see what she was doing, but she was taking a long time at the back.  She couldn’t quite get the taper on the nape of my neck right and kept trying to make it better.  Oh well, I thought I am sure it will be okay but the next morning as we were lining up for the parade outside the barracks, I heard a few unsettling snickers from those behind me, so I thought “Oh, crap.”  It was the Thursday Cmdt’s parade but fortunately he did not choose to inspect our Sqn that morning so as was usual our Sqn Comd did ours.  After he did the front row, I could hear inspecting party’s footsteps come down the back of our rank, and get closer and closer, and then stop right behind me.  There followed a couple of seconds of silence.   Finally, there was a chuckle and then I heard my Sqn Comd say “Wow, that’s what I call a self-inflicted injury!” My mind was reeling as we marched off the parade square later.  But surprisingly, I never heard anything further, presumably because the indignity was considered punishment enough.  Fortunately, the real barber was able to do a decent repair job and, well, … did I mention my hair grows back really fast.

Band Stand. When the whole Cadet Wing was on Parliament Hill to receive new colours as part of the College’s centenary, we began performing a march past after the colours presentation.  One of the wheeling Squadrons, with a frontage of probably 30 cadets, swung so far wide that the cadets in the last couple of files were having a hard time keeping up and started taking huge steps to keep pace with the rest of their front rank.  They were so focused on trying not to be left behind up that they were no longer shoulder to shoulder, and began heading right towards the band that had taken up a position parallel to the dais.  Without missing a beat, literally, the trombone players in their front row quickly lifted their instruments skyward to avoid decapitating the wayward young cadets.

Nice try, though. The feu de joie is a very impressive movement to watch and hear, as the blanks get fired in sequence up the front rank, down the middle rank and then finally up the rear rank.  Unfortunately, I think I only ever experienced a couple ever go off without a hitch, not because it was a difficult movement but because there were always several cadets who did not want to have to clean their rifles afterwards and so would not actually pull the trigger.  Unfortunately, especially if you had a couple of them doing that in the same vicinity in the same row, that would stop the sequence momentarily as those farther down the line were waiting to hear those ahead of them fire first.  Those sputters would be frustrating to say the least but the good news is the culprits were easy to find during the subsequent rifle inspection as they were the only ones with clean barrels!

In Case There was Any Doubt. One of my favourite stories about parades is not even about the mistakes but rather the recovery.  When the cadet in charge realized that he had given an incorrect command, it was proper to immediately halt the movement by yelling “As you were!” I still laugh because some guys were so good at giving that command, saying it with such vigour and consternation, that most of those being commanded were convinced they themselves must have done something wrong, as probably did the spectators who were watching!

These new Leadership Wings are Still a Little Stiff. It was always fun to watch whenever a recruit was put in charge of a marching formation for the first time, but the truth was that one often learns best from their biggest mistakes.  The most amusing one for me was when one cadet was preparing to halt his squad.  As was protocol, he stretched out the cautionary command “Squaddddddddddd …” allowing the marching group time to be ready for the executive part of the command, i.e., “Halt”!  However, this recruit kept stretching out the cautionary, the reason for which only became apparent when he loudly and reluctantly gave the rather unique executive - “Stop!”