At school every boy at the end of the first year of senior school had to select which of the cadet corps he would join. It was compulsory and conscientious objection had no place. So it was that I joined with the majority of my fellow classmates in joining the Army School Cadet Corp. Being a military-style school, our day uniforms of grey, trimmed with red braid were discarded for smart soldiers' dress with simple insignia, boots, hats and all the paraphernalia of a proper military uniform. Boots had to be shone, belt cleaned, brass polished and discipline maintained.
Each Monday we paraded after school, pretending to be soldiers, but only pretending. Neither me nor my compatriots had any desire to join the military but rules had to be obeyed. Cadet officers, supervised by one of the Masters who had actually served as a soldier for a period, taught us the drills and all the other rubbish which pretend soldiers played with. These boy officers took their rank seriously but it was one group which was especially officious and comprised those boys who were not Prefects of the School and therefore lacked the disciplinary powers invested in those of high status. Their authority within the Cadet Corp gave them temporary custody of the rights and powers commonly exercised by the Prefects and House Captains. And they reveled in that authority, no matter that it was transitory.
Cadet parades commenced predictably with an inspection of all the cadets formed into platoons of three dozen boys. Each platoon had a boy corporal in charge and each platoon comprised boys of the same year. Thus, in my first year I found myself in a platoon with 35 other boys around the age of 14 or 15.
The roles played out in this environment were quite predictable and Cadet officers, accompanied by the relevant Corporal, were meticulous in their attention to detail during inspection. Never was there any grounds for not finding fault with some aspect of a boy's dress and demerits were awarded for each and every fault - real or imagined - which was noted. Demerits were also awarded for matters of such great moment as making a wrong turn whilst marching, talking in the ranks, not paying attention to our overlords or for any apparent reason it seemed.
Demerits were worked off generally by extra demeaning duties such as cleaning the playground but beyond a level of 12 demerits the cane would be an option. Whether this "rule" was actually codified, I am still not sure but it was more often than not observed with absolute rigour.
Canings were administered in the gymnasium at the end of the 2 hours of training and I truly cannot recall a single Monday afternoon when at less than a dozen boys lined up outside the gym awaiting the arrival of their respective Officers.
The gymnasium was to one side of the main parade ground and those with a lascivious interest in corporal punishment or indeed in one of the victims could readily loiter at the back of the building to hear and occasionally observe the administration of punishments.
The selection of victims was quite clearly an aesthetic exercise for rarely were the fatter boys or the less pleasing to the eye among the congregation at the entrance to the gym. (Those who fell into these categories tended to spend endless lunchtimes picking up rubbish from the playground or doing other menial tasks.)
As one would expect in a regimented environment, punishments were awarded with due regard for ritual. The relevant Officer would arrive and enter the gym and proceed to terrify his intended victim by swishing the cane through the air as if to practice (when indeed no practice was really required). More than a few boys would tremble slightly as the sound of the cane slicing the air carried through the closed doors. The victim or victims of the particular Officer would have to wait until his name was bellowed from within and it often seemed like an eternity between the sounds of the practice swings and the summoning of the selected offender.
Upon hearing his name, the selected boy would march into the gym and salute the Officer and then be given a detailed explanation of the matters which had brought him to this moment. Finally, having been given a plausible explanation as to why he was to be thrashed, the boy would be asked if there was anything which he wanted to say in mitigation - a fruitless exercise with which no-one bothered. A simple "No Sir!" sufficed.
With punishment thus properly justified, the boy was then ordered over the end of a vaulting horse or, in the case of the smaller boys amongst our company, over a bench to which one clung for dear life. A process of adjustment then followed with the Cadet Officer ensuring that the target was exposed in the most desirable posture - feet well apart and buttocks well exposed.
In most cases the tightly clad backside, covered in relatively thin khaki would serve the Officer's purpose but if the number of demerits warranted a more meaningful lesson (or lust dictated a more delectable sight) trousers would be removed prior to the victim assuming the required position.
Once in position the Officer would take due care to space the strokes as evenly as possible over the target area with the number generally being either 4 or 6 strokes.
At the conclusion of the allotted strokes the victim adjusted his dress, saluted and then marched out of the gym trying as best he could to avoid tears from forming until he could reach the sanctuary of the toilets where water to the face could mask the inevitable evidence of crying.
During my first term in the Cadets it was my misfortune to have one Charles Wilson as my Cadet Captain. Charles was a member of the First XV, an excellent sportsman and as strong as an ox. Charles was also extremely handsome and had more than enough youthful admirers to satisfy his lust without having to prey upon the boys for _s_e_x_ual gratification. But Charles quite clearly increased his teenager's _s_e_x_ual appetites through the rather liberal use of the cane.
It was perhaps inevitable that those of us in our platoon who were less than enthusiastic about marching around a parade ground, occasionally getting to fire rifles on the firing range and learning a lot of useless information about military practices would be on the receiving end of Charles' cane.
Whether we lasted six weeks or eight before our attitude finally incurred his wrath is immaterial, but incur it we did. At inspection, three of us (Rex, David and myself) were singled out for very close inspection. Every aspect of our uniforms and our appearance was found to be at fault and the demerits mounted with every breath he drew. Rex and I received some 15 demerits and David 18 so we were accordingly ordered to report for punishment at the end of the parade.
Now Charles must have been having an off day for his retribution was severe, even by his own high standards.
When the parade finished, the three of us ambled over to the gym to join a group of about a dozen other boys all in various states of anxiety. The muted conversations were predictable as each group of boys speculated on their fate.
One of the other Captains arrived first and took and interminable time to deal with two miscreants while the three of us moved from a state of quiet confidence to one of increasing concern. Being the most junior group, we had expected to head up the order of discipline but this was not to be.
Charles finally arrived and was clearly in a foul mood. He observed none of the usual civilities of acknowledging the presence of any of the boys and barged into the gym. Before he could summon any of us he had to wait while one of the other Officers finished caning another boy. The effect of the waiting and the sounds of backsides being caned over quite some minutes caused each of our fear levels to be heightened considerably.
Finally we saw the last boy leave followed quite promptly by his Cadet Captain. The ensuing silence was, as they say in the classics, "deafening".
Finally Charles yelled out for Rex to enter. Looking at David and I for comfort, Rex entered the gym. There was an extraordinarily long period of silence followed by a stern lecture from Charles and then another period of silence. Finally, after a lifetime of fear we could all hear and count the six strokes which Rex received and after some time our friend emerged looking unusually distraught and with tears rolling down his face.
Without any time to enquire what had transpired, I was summoned by the clearly angry voice of my Captain.
I marched into the gym and saluted and then had to stand at attention while Charles walked in slow circles around me. It seemed that he was trying to decide precisely what he wanted to do. Finally there came the predictable lecture about how ill disciplined we were as a group, how my hair was too long and the brass on my uniform too dull. And then came the order which nearly caused my bladder to empty: "Take down your trousers". Now I understood why there had been such intervals in the ritual with Rex because in order to remove ones trousers I had first to remove my boots.
Having accomplished this task Charles simply pointed his cane at the vaulting horse and I moved into position. Charles came up behind me and literally kicked my feet further apart and pushed my back so that my chest was firmly plastered to the leather top of the horse.
The first stroke of the cane arrived with such venom that it took my breath away but the pain arrived a moment or two after the cane. The pain built and built and it was then that I realised that Charles was deliberately taking his time to ensure that the maximum effect was achieved by each stroke.
By the time the second stroke arrived there was already a pronounced weal across my backside so that the second impact served to heighten the pain radiating from the first. Four more times the cane swished through the air with unerring accuracy and a lifetime seemed to have passed from the commencement of the process until its conclusion. (In reality of course a space of no more that 3 or 4 minutes of my life was occupied by this event.)
The concluding phase of getting dressed, putting on one's boots, saluting and marching out seemed to take forever and while I could pretend that I left the gym with only a hint of moisture in my eyes, the truth was that tears were running down my cheeks for all to see. I rushed to the toilet block to both wash my face and to try and rub the pain away from by backside and to compare the results with Rex. We waited there for David who, having amassed more demerits than either Rex or I, took his cuts across his bare buttocks.
When the three of us were able to compare the results of Charles' swishing, David clearly had achieved a not to be envied result with far deeper purple and black ridges marking his posterior than either Rex or I had to show. I think it was a that point that we each resolved to take Cadets more seriously that hitherto but with the passage of time, and opportunities presented during Cadet Camps, each of us was to experience and/or observe the ingenuity with which Cadet officers could devise means for disciplining their charges.