Military Masturbation

Once, years ago, we were rehearsing for the big parade. Lance Corporal Gardner and I were standing side by side in the front rank, because we were tall chaps and looked reasonably presentable, as opposed to some of the sad sacks with two left feet and pockets eternally unbuttoned.

The Regimental Sergeant-Major was running the regiment through the various actions involved in the parade. “Now the brigadier will walk through the ranks, now he’ll return to the reviewing stand, now the colonel will order ‘Quick march’…”

At each point the RSM would mime the actions of the official party, point at an officer who would come to life like a clockwork toy and give the appropriate command, and watch to see that everybody followed the script.

We did all the stuff like good troops, marched past, advanced in review order and so on. We were getting close to the end, looking forward to getting off the parade ground, having a cool drink in the shade, but there were still a few bits left before we got there.

“Now the brigadier’s car pulls up, the door opener does her thing and salutes as he gets in. That’s you, Corporal Liddle.” Corporal Liddle, selected for combined reliability and pulchritude, marched one pace forward, opened a non-existent car door, saluted a notional brigadier. “The colonel calls the regiment to attention and everyone salutes while the brigadier is pulling away.”

That was the unfortunate moment that Lance Corporal Gardner and I got the giggles, setting each other off. Every time one of us would get ourselves under control, the other would snort or gurgle or something, and we’d be gone.

I don’t think anyone else got the joke, which was probably a good thing, or we would have all been rolling helplessly around on the dusty parade ground, while the officers looked on in bewilderment.