Cadet-Aviator

[cadet-aviator]

Trust

There I was: 15 years old, a cadet in uniform, in full-time service, and there was now really nothing to keep the Army, the Army Cadets and my colonel to shape me exactly as they saw fit.

You may wonder why a normal 15-year old kid would consent to be drilled into shape and made a servant – and not just a servant, but a houseboy, an orderly serving an older man, waiting on him hand and foot.

What made it possible (or what made it ‘work’) was that on several moments in this long process I had talked to people I trusted. They made me understand that I was not ordered to obey by outside forces, but by an inner drive to be submissive and obedient. My life was now unusally strict, unusually isolated, but I had volunteered for it. I had wanted it.

I had visited with the Army therapist, who had been very kind and understanding, but also resolute.

She got me to confess, in tears, that all I really wanted was to obey and serve. It was a real ‘coming out’. I confessed that I loved the uniform, I loved being challenged by the discipline, but that I was ‘nothing’ yet, I wanted to be trained, I wanted to be useful. 

I was ordered to go back to her a few times. We would continue to talk about the ‘profound truth’ of that confession. Every time she made me open up to the reality of this 'inner drive'.

After the first of those sessions I had felt so embarrassed about my 'resistance' that I had apologised to the colonel, on my knees, and told him I would obey his wishes.

He took that very ‘fatherly’, patted me on the head, and said: ‘Good boy, cadet. Stop worrying, stop thinking.'

'I know you are looking for clarity, cadet. A simple life. You will have that, now, here. The same schedule, every day, every week, every month. Stop worrying. I will determine how you live. I will determing where you live. You will become fully disciplined, fully obedient, perfect in every detail, and just plain content to be of service. Nothing else.'

Without the distraction and worries of school life I found that any ‘second thoughts’ faded away, surprisingly swiftly. You might say that the process of submission and indoctrination was paying off (and you’d be right).

All my orders were clear, my daily schedule was clear, my uniform requirements were clear, there wasn’t any reason to worry about anything other than being perfect in service.

Day after day, week after week, this attitude ingrained itself, became my first nature:

‘Just do what is asked of you.'

'Do it well.'

'Don’t talk. Be quiet.'

'Don’t resist doing what you really want to do’.

To my relief and, yes, peace of mind, I found that not thinking about myself actually made things easy. I put my energy into doing things 110%, in the house, in my Army duties, in drill and exercise.

After a while it all became a calm coccoon, a well-organised sphere. Uniform every day. Haircut once a week. Kneel for your superior officer and await his orders. Then obey them. No stress, no distractions, just be perfect and then better than perfect.

[cadet-aviator]

Perspective

This was all arranged in a matter of weeks, and it had gone largely over my head. I assumed, of course, that the Army, the cadet service, the colonel, and my Dad had agreed on this – even though my Dad had told me he opposed the idea.

I did not go back to school to say goodbye. I simply disappeared. I put my handsome white shirts with the stiff high collars in a box with the school ties and the long socks.

Some of my mates called me at the house, wondering what was happening, but I was unable to reply; they had been told at school that I had moved to another school, at short notice. As I was the son of diplomats, this was not uncommon. I guess they just moved on.

When this happened, I had been in the colonel’s house on the Army compound for just over three months.

I had applied for this kind of life, thinking it was a temporary thing, a kind of internship, a chance to learn some new cadet skills. It made sense also because Dad was going to be away a lot, so why not find a kind of foster family and do some cadet training at the same time?

Initially, I had been shocked with what was expected of me, and I had struggled to keep up. I could not be a good student and a good house-cadet at the same time. My grades suffered, the colonel was unhappy, his son got demerits at school and at cadet drill for uniform flaws and they were my fault, and so on. Something had to give. So when I was told that my school duties had ended, I actually felt relieved. Now I could meet the cadet challenge. It was very much what any 15-year old boy might feel, a chance to prove himself, to excel, suprise his elders. If this had been a football team, I would have been on the training pitch every day, all day. 

I had walked away from that phone call with my Dad, not really thinking about what he had meant (and not really understanding what it all meant to him, his son abandoning him for a uniformed life of service).

At the risk of getting ahead of the story: Dad wasn’t my parent anymore. When I had enlisted in the cadet service, and signed my name and sworn an oath, I had officially joined the Malay Army, and was now subject to military law. As I was under 16, the Army had, in a very real legal sense, adopted me. The Army had appointed the colonel as my legal guardian.

I had never realised that that was the consequence of my joining up; neither had my Dad realised that, when he agreed to having me posted there, under the colonel’s wings, he had formally given me up for adoption. Only when he found that the colonel had taken me out of school, and that there was nothing he could do about it, did the reality of that sink in. This was the beginning of a long legal battle, of which I was not aware. I will save the outcome for later in this story.

[cadet-aviator]

Resuming...

[Dear reader, I apologise for the gap in publication. Recounting the events of my youth in Asia continues to have quite an impact on me, more than I expected. I will pick up where I left off. I am using a different (but eerily accurate) way of conjuring up images.

These stories are essentially true; they happened decades ago, in a southeast Asian country - not the one described here.

When I last posted, I wrote that my guardian, the colonel, wanted me to drop out of school. My Dad had objected.]

Out of school 

A week or so later I reported for my evening assessment, and the colonel very matter of factly said: ‘Cadet, you are released from your school attendance, effective immediately. Your father has informed me that as he will continue to travel, both in this country and to Europe, he has consented; I am executing my authority as your legal guardian. I will allow contact between you and him but only after my permission, and these contacts will be open to my scrutiny.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘You will not go to school tomorrow. This is permanent. You will no longer be referred to as cadet-student, just as cadet, fourth class. You will only refer to yourself as ‘cadet’, no first names or surnames.'

'You will remove all items of your school uniform from your room and make them available for disposal to charity. From now on you will be only in your cadet whites, your service uniforms, or your army greens.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘To be frank, cadet: you know that I have doubts about your motivation to become a true cadet. I have expressed some disappointment about your application in this house and I have let you know that perhaps you'd be better placed in active service, as a regular private.'

'I was never happy to see you in your school uniform; it was a distraction, it gave you too much to think about, and your service here suffered. I am ready to give you another chance, which means that in your life here you will focus on service and obedience, and nothing else.'

‘Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.’

I wanted to ask a question, but I thought better of it.

‘Wait outside, I may need you. Dismissed.’

I stood outside. The house was quiet.

[cadet-aviator]

A call

After he received my second letter, my Dad called me. He had a bit more time, this time; he was clearly upset, worried.

According to the new rules, I could talk to him, but only while the colonel was in the office, and heard everything I said. But: in the state of mind I was in, after the therapist, I found it very easy to let this sense of obedience and service take over.

For Dad, it was frustrating.

‘Son, I’m dead against you leaving school. There’s just no way. It’s great that you have this … hobby of yours, and I suppose it’s fine that you want to live there, and not go to a normal boarding school, while I’m away, but I can’t have you throw away your future because your officers says so.’

‘Yes Sir, but please, I think it’s the right thing to do, Dad, Sir, it’s only a few months, right?’

‘That’s not what this officer has told me. He says ‘indefinitely’, and then after you turn sixteen he’ll decide what you’ll do next.’

‘Yes Sir. I hate to contradict you, Sir, but really, I want to do this, Dad. You’ve know this for a long time, remember when we went to Thailand, and I cried because I felt wrong to be in just my school uniform… I want this, Dad’

‘I know, son, but this is too big a decision to make on your own, son’

‘I know, Sir, the colonel will make that decision for me, and I’m happy that he will do so, Sir’

‘Hold on, son, I’m still your Dad and I say what’s what, right. Leave the colonel to me.’

‘Yes Sir’

‘Son, surely you see that you are able to do all sorts of things, later on, when we’re back in Europe, any university course, you’re so smart. Even if you wanted a military career, you’ll need that education, right?’

‘Yes Sir, but what if… what if the course I’m on, as a Mess & Household cadet, is really the best thing for me now, Sir? I mean I’m quite good at it, although the colonel makes it clear that I have a lot more to learn, I mean I’m still sloppy in so many things, I’m not a good cleaner, and…’

‘Son, it’s not up for debate, I’m sorry. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to your colonel, and we’ll sort this out. This project I’m on is winding down, I should be back at the house in a few weeks, a month at most, and you’ll just come back and live with me there. And you can do cadets or space cadets or jungle ballet or whatever you please, then, but you’ll be in school.’

‘Yes Sir. I apologise for contradicting you, Sir.’

‘And lay off the ‘Sir’, for god’s sake.’

‘I’m under cadet rules, Sir, I’m afraid that’s what I’ll call you, Sir.’

‘Fine. Now don’t worry about this. I’ll deal with it, call you next week or so.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Goodnight, son’

Goodnight, Sir.’

The colonel said, quietly: 'Cadet, for failing to address a superior adult correctly, two demerits. For contradicting your father, two demerits. Report to sergeant Yu Sunday morning, discpline detail, four hours.

'Yes Sir'

[cadet-aviator]

Submission (1)

The visit to the therapist had a profound effect.

I was suprised at myself, first of all, the loss of control. At that age, I almost never cried, my emotions never got the better of me; so I was amazed that she got me to say the things I said – that I wantedto be an obedient boy, that I knew I was meant to serve.

I felt alarmed and confused, but I also felt that there was a truth in it. It was bewildering, but in a way also liberating, it gave me a sense of clarity – and it was that last feeling, that caught on.

But in the first few days after that session I was confused and emotional. Every evening I went and stood to attention next to the door of the colonel’s office at 8.30 sharp, waiting for him to call me in for my evening ‘assessment’. The first evening after my therapy session he said nothing, and nothing on the second day; on the third day I was given a punishment for a bad grade in school, and only then did he say something: 

‘I trust your meeting with the therapist was useful, cadet.’

It was not a question.

‘Yes Sir, thank you Sir.’

‘Anything to say about that, cadet?’

‘Yes Sir, thank you Sir.’

Again the emotions kicked in. I stood to attention, but I was shaking inside, trying not to burst into tears. I heard myself say things which I hadn’t dreamed of saying before, but the therapist had opened the doors. 

‘I am deeply sorry and I humbly apologise for my poor performance, Sir.’

'You will apologise on your knees, cadet.'

I obeyed. I had no resistance.

'Well?"

‘The officer-therapist said that I’m proud and acting against my own self, Sir.'

‘What’s that, your 'own self'?’

‘Well… I am a boy... but I am a cadet because I want to serve… Sir’

‘And?’

‘And obey, Sir. Please Sir, I’m really sorry Sir.’

Again, tears welling up.

‘Go on?’

'She said that I need to accept that fact, Sir, I'm just not like other boys, Sir.'

'So?'

‘I apologise for my bad behaviour and will obey without question, Sir.’

‘Good. So no more begging me for a relief of your duties, eh, cadet-student?’

‘No Sir.’

It all came out without thinking, freely, 'liberated'. No resistance.

‘Good. Now, the officer-therapist has contacted me about those duties. I will spend some more time with XY, but your duties remain the same. I know that your service here and your school work are hard to combine, I was never happy with the arrangement, so I’ve contacted your father about taking you out of school for a leap year, as you so wisely suggested to him in your last letter, cadet.’

‘Yes Sir’

‘We will know what he thinks soon. However, I have already informed your school that this is going to happen, cadet.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘You’ll still go to school, for now, but I expect this to pass in a few weeks. Until your 16th birthday you will continue to serve as a cadet, officially as a junior private, and I will remain your legal guardian, cadet-student. I will decide what you will do or not do in the coming years, cadet-student. Is that clear?

‘Yes Sir.’

'What that means, cadet, is that there will be no excuse for anything under 110% performance, cadet. You will become fully disciplined, fully obedient, perfect in every detail, and just plain content to be of service.'

'Yes Sir.'

'I know you are looking for clarity, cadet. A simple life. You have that, now, here. The same schedule, every day, every week, every month. Stop worrying; I will determine how you live and where you live.'

'Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.'

‘Dismissed.’

As I went back upstairs to my attic room I felt oddly relieved. The colonel had a way of making things very simple.

I remembered how that simplicity had seemed so attractive to me in the first place, the clarity of a disciplined life. The truth of who I was and why I was there was finally sinking in.

I went to work. I spent about three hours doing XY’s laundry and ironing, separating blues from whites. I focused. I knew I had to be calm, quiet, helpful and pleasant, become clear and open and numb, lose my pride and my sense of self. Complete obedience was the only way forward, now. It made perfect sense; I would stop feeling unhappy. 

When I finished, I got up and stood to attention in my empty bedroom, as I had done countless times before. I then ironed my own uniform to perfection. Then I went to bed.

[cadet-aviator]

Counseling

I went to see the Army therapist, a friendly female officer, slightly older than the colonel. She said that she was a professional psychologist, and even though this chat had been arranged by my superior officer, I could speak freely, there would be no record, nothing I said would ‘leave the room’. She did know my file, so she knew how I got to where I was now. 

I was, then, very vulnerable. The angry outburst by the colonel, with that threat of posting me somewhere far way in the jungle, for years to come, had shaken me badly. At the same time I couldn’t really get my head around my own feelings. Was this really what I wanted? A healthy young European 15-year old, wanting to 'serve and ‘obey’, wanting to kneel for Army officers, polish their floors, polish their boots, stand to attention for hours holding a briefcase? No social life, no interaction with other cadets? Uniform every day? Standing to attention in your own room, to fill the time before you could go to bed? I knew I did all that because I wanted to do that – but at the time I never knew exactly what made me want it.

The meeting would have a profound effect, perhaps even a devastating one.

‘I understand you’ve had a bit of a discussion with your commanding officer?’

‘Yes Ma’m. About my duties, mostly, Ma’m. It’s just too much for me, Ma’m, it’s too much work, I can’t deal with it all, and I’m really alone in that house, and ... ’

‘And…?’

‘Well, I have to serve the colonel, but I also have to take care of his son, and I have no idea how to do that, I mean I can’t raise that boy to be a soldier, make him obey every little order, I can see he’s not happy with all that.’

‘I see. That may be a burden to you, indeed. Let’s take a step back, if I may. I know from your file that your school cadet corps went to national finals, you went to conviviality meetings, you volunteered for Elite Camp, you were proud to go there a second time. Your superiors note that you never failed to do the honorary guard at night, your behavior was always exemplary, and so on – am I wrong to think you wanted to be a real cadet and do everything that means, including serve senior officers?’

‘Yes Ma’m, but I guess I didn’t quite understand what that would mean, I mean I was fine with doing Mess & Household in Camp or in the Officer’s Mess, but now it seems the colonel is going to make this my career, or at least what I have to do for the next years.’

‘And?’

‘Well, my parents and I had other ideas about what to do after school, go back to Europe with my family, go to university maybe, not this life.’

‘Yes, but at the same time, you chose this life?’

‘Well, yes, but now my officer says I could now be posted anywhere, or even as a regular soldier somewhere in the jungle for years…’

‘And you don’t like that prospect?’

‘No Ma’m, I mean I am a good cadet, but I can’t be just a soldier somewhere in the jungle for the next years, I mean I’m not even a Malay national, Ma’m.’

‘What would you like to see happen, then?’

‘I don’t know, Ma’m, I mean I don’t want to throw in the towel, I love being a cadet, I love the uniform, everything, but maybe I should be sent home, figure out a way to live with Dad, maybe with a housekeeper, just do cadet drill at school, like the other boys.’

‘Before we get to that, let me ask you something else. You have sworn an oath of obedience only a few months ago. What does that mean to you now?’

That was a tough one.

‘Well, I was proud to do that, but I think now I didn’t really know what it meant, I also didn’t understand what it meant that the Army was now my legal guardian, and not my Dad, so there is the big mistake, Ma’m.’

‘A mistake, perhaps, cadet.’

‘Yes Ma’m.’

‘Let me ask you another thing. You’ve been a cadet for almost four years now, first in school, then in the Program. At every step you were taught to follow orders, to be obedient, to serve.’

‘Yes Ma’m.’

‘I believe you were part of a group of boys who chose to wear the uniform at all times, is that right?’

‘Yes Ma’m, a bunch of us at school, we were very keen to do well in cadet drill, Ma’m. It became a bit of a game for us, I guess, we outdid each other in looking perfect, that kind of thing.’

‘So what does obedience mean to you, now?’

‘Well, … I guess… I’m still young, 15, so I’m not really an adult, still a child, in a way, and I have to accept that I have to learn things, how to deal with my superiors, or my betters, how to be a good member of society, things like that, and I guess I have to obey what other people tell me to do, until I am older.’

‘Hmm, yes, but that sounds very… practical to me. Didn’t you feel anything else, when it comes to obedience?’

‘Like what, Ma’m?’

‘Something stronger than just doing what your teachers tell you to do?’

‘I suppose, Ma’m.’

‘Can you tell me when you felt that?’

That came out surprisingly easily.

‘When I was in Camp, doing these endless drills, in the heat, you know, long marches, my brain just went numb at times Ma'm. It just shut down, all I felt was the rhythm of the march, left right left right left right, and all I could see was the neat hairline of the cadet before me, marching, and all I could think of was that at the end of the march we’d have uniform inspection and even after 20K my tie had to be in its proper position and did I need a haircut perhaps…’

‘What do you mean by numb?’

‘Well, yes, Ma’m, something like that, it was sometimes… as if my body was just my body, marching as ordered, dressed as ordered, and my body was just sort of carrying my brain, but it was not important what I was thinking or feeling, my body just carried on…’

‘If I were to say that this numbness means that you internalised obedience, at that time, what would you say?’

‘I suppose that was what it was, maybe, Ma’m, it was just… It was numb, but… I don’t know, it was also clear, natural, simple. I stopped thinking, I guess.’

‘Indeed. So looking back at what you’ve told me about your life now, with this family, trying to be a good house servant, a good Mess&Household servant, and do your schoolwork at the same time, everything about it indicates that you find it easy to obey orders, to do as you’re told.’

‘I don’t know really, Ma’m.’

‘I think you do. I think you’ve told me about that moment of clarity, marching in the jungle, to tell me that this is what is on you mind now – you struggle with your duties in the colonel’s household, and you are confused by your reluctance to really engage with those duties, and at the same time you remember that clarity, the moment everything made sense to you. So now something is holding you back, right? Could that be true?

I had to think about that, for a bit. Clearly the therapist knew exactly how to dig deeper into my feelings, pushing all the right buttons.

‘I don’t mind work, Ma’m and I don’t mind orders, Ma’m, but it’s just too much, and then the boy… I really don’t think I can go on doing this, Ma’m.’ 

‘I disagree, cadet-student. I can clearly see you are selling yourself short. You are a wonderful cadet, and a very promising one too, precisely because of this experience. The one thing that gets in your way, I think, is that you still have an idea of yourself as ‘better’ than all the rest.’

‘Ma’m?’

‘And I believe this is what your superiors have been telling you before. You are a foreign national, or you were one, and you’ve grown up in rather privileged circumstances, these diplomatic services. People probably liked you, and told you you were a special boy, perhaps?

‘Well, yes, it was just how we lived, Ma’m, I was expected to do well, dress decently, we had school uniforms of course…’

‘Right. And in cadets you discovered that discipline and order and obedience are really what you needed, what you wanted to experience. Am I right?’

‘Yes Ma’m.’

She was right. She nailed it. And then she went even deeper.

‘So now things are difficult for you. Without your own family, away from your old life, in this very disciplined household. And you suddenly feel you can’t obey anymore? Is it the work, or is it your pride?’

‘Well, no, or I don't know, I just can’t do it all, in that house, Ma’m. Even when I’m doing everything right I get corrected and punished, and the colonel keeps adding chores and duties, and it takes all the time I need for laundry and housework, and for schoolwork, and then the son comes home and just drops everything, takes off his uniform, which is not allowed, and goes on playing videogames, and…’

‘Yes, yes. I’m aware that you have a lot on your plate. I think a word to the colonel about that is in order, leave that to me, cadet-student’.

‘Really Ma’m, that would be great, Ma’m, but I still think that I…’

‘Yes, cadet-student, I know you want out, you want your Dad.’

‘Yes Ma’m’.

Again, tears in my throat.

‘But that’s not going to happen, cadet-student.’

‘Ma’m, please Ma’m’.

‘No, son. For me, and I think for the colonel, but certainly for the Army, it would be a terrible waste. I can see that by just looking at you: you’re uniform is spotless, the knot in your tie is perfect, the crease in your sleeves is sharp, you are the very image of a good cadet. They have all invested in you, made it possible for you to be who you really are, a wonderful cadet, who will become, perhaps, in the near future, a wonderful servant to someone high-up. Surely you understand that it would be wrong for us to change course now, cadet?’

‘But Ma’m…’

‘Do you understand, cadet-student?’

‘… Yes Ma’m.’

‘But that’s not the main reason. You are going to stay, and serve, because the hard truth, cadet, is that that is what you really are.’

‘Ma’m?’

‘You are going to face up to that truth, cadet, and you’ll embrace it, and you’ll let your superiors take you to where you really need to be.’

‘But…’

‘Face the truth, dear boy: you are not special. You are nothing, yet. Don’t be afraid of that. Just follow what’s really inside you. Tell me yourself, cadet student. Let me hear it from you. Tell me what you are.'

By now I was close to tears, and shaking. I felt the answer come up inside me, undeniably, I was going to say it, and then I said it.

'Ma'm, I want to be a good cadet, Ma'm.'

'And?'

'And I want to serve my superiors, Ma'm'

Swallowing more tears.

‘Because…?’

‘Because I’m nothing, Ma’m. Just stupid Ma’m.’

‘Say that again?’

‘I’m a proud stupid boy, Ma’m. I just need someone to teach me, make me obey and serve, Ma’m’

In tears, now. She let me sob a bit.

‘So this resistance of yours, against what the Army and the colonel are asking from you, what’s that?’

‘It’s stupid and wrong, Ma’m. I’m so sorry, Ma’m’

'Again, please say so yourself, cadet student. Let me hear it from you.'

[By now I really was crying.]

'I'm... I want to be a good cadet, Ma'm. I want to serve my superiors, Ma'm.'

'Because...?'

'Because I want to be obedient, Ma'm.'

'Again?'

'Please Ma'm, I want to be an obedient boy, Ma'm.’

She finally let me be. I sat and sobbed.

‘Well, that was quite the confession, cadet. I’m pleased that you were ready to let it all come out.’

‘Yes Ma’m’.

‘Now, dry your eyes, blow your nose. I have feeling you’ll feel relieved after this, cadet. Now, as I said, everything we talked about is private, of course, but I will have a word with the colonel about your concerns regarding his son – it may be wise to leave the actual parenting to him, I think. And then you must settle down and do the work as ordered, cadet-student. No more tantrums'.

'Yes Ma'm.'

‘So, I hope that clears things up for you, cadet?’

‘Yes Ma’m’

‘Anything else?’

‘No Ma’m’

‘What’s your first task when you get home?’

‘Home, Ma’m? I guess serving the family at dinner, Ma’m’

‘Good. But I also recommend that you ask permission to speak to the colonel, and tell him what you told me, apologise for your request. I’m sure he’ll see reason. Just remember that march, looking at the cadet in front of you. Nothing else. You are a cadet, you serve. Nothing else matters. I know that you will be happy that way.’

I was just too exhausted and stupefied to say anything else. I got up and came to attention, so she could dismiss me.

‘Dismissed’

‘Thank you Ma’m.’

[cadet-aviator]

A second letter

Army personnel is nothing if not methodical, and I knew, when I knocked on the door for my assessment exactly two weeks later, that the colonel would sit me down and have me write another letter to Dad.

This time, his aide de camp handed me a note with, as he put it, ‘a few suggestions’, but he made it clear that I was to include them verbatim. 

I had no choice. I did as I was ordered.

‘Dear Sir,

Another two weeks have gone by, thanks for the call, last week; don’t worry, I know that you didn’t have much time, I know you’re in and out of airplanes, so that’s fine. I was just glad to hear your voice and very happy to hear that Mom’s doing a bit better.

I do wonder if you’ve given any thought to the proposal of my commanding officer and legal guardian, the colonel, about me taking some time out of school, to focus on my service in this house and my cadet activities. I think it’s very kind of the colonel to suggest this, as it would obviously mean having me around the house more, with more supervision on his part. Already he has done a lot for me, for my development as a cadet, there are so many aspects of life as a Mess & Household cadet that I need to learn still. 

I know the decision about school lies with the colonel and with you, Sir, but I want you to know that I’m still very much committed to my life as a cadet, everything about it makes me happy, and I am sure the colonel will do everything to help me develop, Sir. I am also sure he will make the right decision for my future, the next few years; he’s mentioned a few interesting options, such as a long ‘internship’ at the Elite Camp, or perhaps placement in another officer’s household elsewhere in the country, Sir, or even as a M&H servant in one of the country’s embassies, Sir, I may be a 'diplomat' after all, Sir.

So I hope you’ll be in touch with the colonel soon and let him know what you think; I am bound by my oath to obey the decision of the colonel, my guardian, and so I really hope you’ll agree on what’s best.

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Love,

Cadet-student B

I stood and handed it to the aide. ‘Well done, cadet-student, I’m sure we can soon proceed with that leap year.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Dismissed.’

[cadet-aviator]

Continuation (4)

It took a while before I had enough courage (and he seemed in a good mood) to breach it. This was on a regular Thursday evening, after dinner, when I stood to attention in his office. He went through some paperwork, let me wait (as usual) before he would then dismiss me with a few ‘notes’, as he called them. 

‘Anything else, cadet-student?’

‘Permission to speak, Sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you Sir. Cadet-student needs to confess that he finds it difficult to keep up with the house assignments and the school work, Sir. It’s just too much, Sir, and…’

‘And…?’

‘Please Sir, Cadet-student asks you to consider relieving cadet-student from some of his duties and assignments, Sir.’

‘Relieving you? Of what?’

‘Please Sir, some of my duties, Sir. There seems to be not enough time in the day to complete them all, Sir’

‘This wasn’t a problem for you when you first entered the household, cadet-student.’

‘No Sir’

‘What has changed, then?’

‘I don’t know, Sir, perhaps I was too eager to take on too many responsibilities, Sir.’

‘Really? I remember your application letter, you were very keen to join the cadet program, live on the base, be a full-time Army Cadet, as I recall…’

‘Not full-time, Sir, but…’

‘Don’t contradict me, cadet-student’

‘Yes Sir. I apologise, Sir.’

He was quiet for a while. 

‘Cadet, to be frank, it’s been a disappointment to me and my family to see you fail in your duties. I’m disappointed that I’ve been forced to correct you more often than I thought necessary.

You only have to blame yourself for your sloppy work, and therefor for your punishments, and the lack of time. A quick six strokes with the cane would take up a lot less time than writing 400 lines or copying out the Cadet Manual or spending the afternoon with sergeant Yu, but I won’t bring that option up again, cadet.’

‘Yes Sir’

‘Would you like to reconsider?’

‘No Sir’

‘Very well. Your schedule, your tasks, your duties will remain the same until you finally understand why you are here.’

‘Sir?’

‘I mentioned this before, cadet-student.’

He took a second, before he told me – always calm, with no hint of irritation.

‘You are a proud boy, cadet. You have a notion of being a free person, making your own choices, your own plans. Perhaps it’s your European roots. You were pleased with yourself, as a perfect schoolboy and cadet - you were showing off, you were proud. You know this was the assessment after your periods at the Elite Camp – they told you then about your lack of real engagement. Even those months of corrections didn’t really get through to you.’

‘Sir?’

‘And then you asked your father to sign you over to the Army, to me, and now it is my job to now make something out of you. To make you understand what it is to truly obey, to truly serve. 

‘Sir’

‘You come in here, now, asking for fewer duties. A real cadet-student would be ashamed, deeply ashamed for failing to serve a superior officer and his family. A real cadet-student would kneel and ask to be corrected. Not you: you want ‘relief of your duties.’

‘But Sir...’

‘Well, you won’t get it, cadet-student. I will not honour your request; your duties and assignments remain as they are, and they will increase. I will ask my aide to keep a sharp eye out for any more failures. I will contact your mentor at school to inform him that scrutiny should be intensified, now that your grades are falling. You will act like a cadet-student and meet these challenges without complaint, cadet-student.’

‘Yes Sir’.

He paused for a bit – I was expecting a few kind words of encouragement, but I got the opposite.

‘Let me indicate what your options are. You will obey and do the work you have been given, quietly and diligently, and that may very well lead to a suitable career as a Mess & Household servant, over the next five or six years. Or: you can put in a request to be discharged from your cadet-student status. You’ll then become a junior enlisted soldier, until you turn 16 in a few months, when you will be enrolled formally in the Army. In both cases, I will remain as your legal guardian and your commanding officer. If you request to be discharged, I will make sure that you spend the last months before your 16th birthday in the QQ disciplinary facility in the jungle, on enhanced punishment detail.

After your enrollment, I will then see to it that you are posted with the absolute worst infantry training company I can find, somewhere deep in Borneo. I promise you that you will then think differently about not having enough time for your homework or the laundry of your superior officer. Am I making myself clear, cadet-student?'

I was too blown away by it all to answer.

‘Anything else?’

‘No Sir. Thank you Sir.’

‘Very well. Now, as it is my duty to make sure that my staff are not liable to suffer from mental problems, you will pay a visit to the psychologist on the base, to give you some clarity.’

‘Thank you Sir.’

‘Dismissed’.

[cadet-aviator]

Continuation (3)

On and on, and on, all day long, seven days a week, weeks became months.

There were moments when I thought I could handle things, that I was getting the hang of it; I began to understand what the colonel wanted and needed and at what times. I had established something like a friendly-helpful relationship with XY, the boy. I didn't feel all that bad about having to eat alone and in silence - Mrs Chows food was actually quite nice.

But then the colonel would add something to the list.

He could say, at a moment’s notice, that I had to accompany him to a meeting and carry his bag for him.

This was usually when the meeting was high-up, formal, and he felt it was unbecoming for someone of his rank and status to carry a briefcase, so I did that. I'd walk three paces behind him, head up.

At the office, or somewhere on the base, he would take out a folder or a few sheets of paper and I would be told to stand and wait.

And I would: an hour, three hours, a whole afternoon – and then he’d emerge, give me the folder, order me off home, and he’d join the others for ‘tea’.

I was used to just standing and waiting, but this was a very public display of my status as a servant. I’d stand there with the bag, nobody would speak to me. Nobody would ask if I needed a drink of water, or something. I was the colonel's aide, and under his orders.

And at the house he would sometimes remark that the floorboards of the veranda hadn’t been cleaned well enough, or the tile floors in the hallway needed an extra polish – and he’d land that on me.

Obviously, I was not to use anything mechanical or even remotely handy, like a broom; I had to be on my knees, scrubbing and waxing and polishing. And I did as he ordered.

There was nothing I could do about it, of course; I understood full well that the colonel was increasing the pressure, expecting me to catch up every time. And I also understood why this had to be done 'on my knees'. It was a humble task, it had to be done well, it was the kind of thing I was meant to do.

I tried, I really tried, but I was still alone, and struggling, and I felt I was nearing the end of my tether.

There were simply not enough hours in the day for both the service in house and on the base and my work at school.  

My failure to be 100% perfect in the house led to more and more punishments, which took hours to complete, and made it almost impossible to also do my homework assignments, and so I began to fall seriously below the set mark at school, which in turn led to more homework, repeat assignments, and so on.

I just had to talk about this to the colonel.

[cadet-aviator]

Continuation (2)

On and on, and on, and as all this was getting more and more difficult for me, I put on my school uniform every morning, after breakfast service, and hurried to school. 

I was feeling increasingly lonely, or even isolated, in the colonel’s house, I realised even more how important it was to have just normal chats with boys of my own age, about trivial things, homework, sports, even girls (although that was still very much an abstract theme, for most of us).

But as I mentioned before, I was formally ‘encouraged’ to keep to myself at all times, not initiate conversations, devote all my time to my studies, every second of it.

Many of my mates just left me to my own devices. 

There was, however, my mentor, my school counsellor, who was a really nice teacher. I had talked to him before, more than once; I remembered the last time, when I had been very confident or even cocky about my involvement with cadets. I had told him rather proudly about the daily inspections, the corrections, my busy schedule, and I remember telling him said I was ‘grateful’ for all of that, including the many ‘corrections’, and that I really wanted to be in uniform all the time. I even said that ‘obedience came before everything else’. The mentor was baffled by it all, but as my school results were excellent, he had no reason to intervene. I guess he considered it to be a fad, or a hobby which I was taking a bit too seriously, but he could see no harm in applying myself as a cadet. After all, the cadet program was mandatory, in school.

My mentor called me in again, for ‘just a chat’. Things were different now. For starters (small detail) I was now wearing shirts with an old fashioned stiff collar. It was something the colonel had ordered me to wear.

Some of the older boys liked to wear them too, I think it referred back to the time when boys wore detached eton collars, 'the good old days'. They were very uncomfortable, but they looked smart.

By now I was a bit obsessed with the idea that I was wrong to resist my life of discipline. I shouldn’t doubt it. It went through my mind how I had been on my knees for the Admiral, pressing my forehead on the floor, and how that had felt completely natural. I also thought a lot about why I had asked Dad to let me move to a different house, on the base, and live as a cadet. I hadn’t explicitly told him that it was because I wanted more structure and clarity in my life, because that would have been unfair to him, but that was the real reason behind it – or so I thought, when the mentor asked me in.

I now realise that he sat me down he may already have been informed that the Army wanted to take me out of school for a ‘leap year’. He had also seen that my grades were slipping – reason enough for a talk.

‘Well, son, what’s going on? You were doing so well, we were all in awe of you! Anything bothering you?’

‘Thank you Sir, I think it’s just that I have too many other things going on now, Sir.’

‘You mean in that new family, with colonel Y?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘Well, Sir, nothing out of the ordinary, Sir, it’s really much like at home with my father, Sir, I have chores like everybody else. I do laundry, I serve dinner, things like that, Sir.’

‘Isn’t that a bit much, for chores?’

‘Not really, Sir, just helping out when I can, I mean I am a guest in their house, Sir, and the colonel is a superior officer of course, Sir. His orders are… well, orders.’

‘So are you happy, there?’

‘Yes Sir, I guess so, Sir. I mean I miss Dad, and I have to adjust to things, it’s on the base, so I’m really sort of in the military now, Sir, but it’s what’s good for me, Sir.’

‘Why do you say that, son?’

‘Well… ‘

[There I was suddenly not all that self-assured. It was difficult to let it come out, but it did]

‘… I think it’s good for me, Sir, because it… fits, Sir. Being a cadet has taught me what kind of boy I really am, Sir.’

‘And that is…?’

‘Well, that some people are born to lead and some are not, they are there to help and serve, Sir, and I am that kind of person, Sir.’

‘Help and serve, and… obey orders?’

‘Yes Sir. Of course, Sir.’

‘Really, son? Isn’t it a bit early for all this, becoming a soldier? You’re only fourteen, right?’

‘Fifteen Sir. Perhaps you’re right Sir, but…’

‘So what’s the big attraction? Is it the Army rules, the discipline?’

‘I don’t really know how to explain, Sir. I went to Elite Camp, you know, and that was tough, but good too, and they had this thing where as a cadet you were supposed to volunteer for this ceremonial thing, something relate to the war, I think. Cadets would stand guard in the officers’ quarters after dinner, for a few hours, Sir. That was tough because we had really long days there, so you’d be very tired, we all wanted to go to bed – but I volunteered every night, Sir, and I did that.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Yes but Sir, I would just stand there, and stand correctly, fighting off sleep, but here’s the thing: I never had the feeling that it was strange, Sir. I felt natural, Sir, like I just had to do that, and not worry about it, just do it and do it well, Sir. Do you understand, Sir?’

‘I think I do, son.’

‘Do you think it’s wrong, Sir?’

‘I think it’s… unusual, for a boy your age, to not think about football or the beach or games or hanging out, but I guess it’s not unusual for a boy in your situation to seek a certain level of structure, of guidance; and I can’t fault you for wanting to be a good cadet, of course…’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘But I’m a bit worried, though, if you don’t mind. Not just the grades, although it’s a pity that they’re slipping a bit. It’s that I’ve noticed you’re keeping to yourself, you’re not engaging with your mates, you’re letting your friendships slip. Everybody needs friends, son?’

‘Yes Sir, of course, Sir. I’m sorry about that too, Sir, but the colonel thinks it best that I really focus on becoming a good cadet, Sir. And when I’m in school I realise he’s right, Sir, too many distractions are just not good for me now, Sir.’

'But surely you need to get out once in a while, I don't know, go to the movies, get a coffee, hang out, isn't that what you boys did before?'

'Well yes, Sir.'

'But..?'

[sigh]

'But I know that’s not right for me now Sir, really, Sir, I can't really be a good cadet if I get distracted by movies and things, Sir. It would be difficult anyway, Sir, since I'm not allowed to socialise with boys who are not in uniform. And really Sir, I am happy to be in the colonel's house and help out there, Sir.'

‘Very well, son. But what about that 8.5 average? Anything I can do to help?’

‘Not really Sir, I don’t think so, Sir, I mean I really enjoy these chats, Sir, but I know what my duties are now, Sir. And I'll work on those grades, Sir.’

‘Right. Very well. Oh, and I see you're wearing these old school high collars! Very smart. How are they?’

‘They’re fine, Sir, a bit stiff Sir, but colonel’s orders, Sir, so fine, Sir.’

‘Right. Off you go, then.’

‘Thank you Sir’

A few days later, putting on the uniform, feeling the stiffness of that collar, I suspected it might have been the last time I spoke to him.

[cadet-aviator]

Continuation (1)

And so things went on, and on, and on. For now, I still went to school, and did my school work, and I wasn’t told anything by any school officials about the colonel’s plans. There was no message from Dad, neither.

I was confused and sad, but the reality of life left me very little time to complain. My plate was always full. Seven days a week. House duties continued on Saturdays and Sundays, breakfast service and dinner service, occasionally lunch service too.

Getting the boy ready for school and his school platoon drills and then, even though he was tired and angry, getting him to dress sharply for prep classes and often those ‘friendly’ meetings with older officers.

It was a major headache to get things absolutely right, trying to keep him from ruining his uniforms, trying to keep up his spirits. 

The colonel had indicated that once I was out of school I would be getting additional household tasks, but for now I was given another little job on Saturdays: I was ordered to be available for chats with young cadets, the 10-to 11-year olds who were just being introduced to uniforms and drill and all that, at their schools.

This had been a feature in my life when I was that age, too: after drill we would occasionally get a visitor from a senior year, or even a proper Army Cadet, who would sit with us for an hour or so, and talk about life in cadets and in the military – all very friendly.

We had to make sure we looked perfect, but I remember that we felt fine with that, we wanted to look good for those older boys. 

And now I found myself in the same situation.

Of course I didn’t feel that becoming a cadet was a bad choice, on the contrary, I still loved the discipline, the uniforms, and I was happy to talk about all that and enourage them to engage with it. I was also happy to suggest to those kids that it was cool to wear the uniform after school, and during the weekend, and be a perfect little gentleman-cadet at all times.

And I also told them how my friends used drop by and we would talk about how to keep things neat and tidy, how to do drills, how to behave like a real officer, but also, of course, about school work, holidays, sports, parents, siblings, normal stuff. 

I could see the surprise in their eyes when I’d tell them how I had thrown away all my non-uniform clothes, so I could be a cadet all the time.

‘Really? But how about holidays, when you go to the beach?

‘Same there, boys. Me and my mates would go the beach in uniform, and have a swim, and then get dressed up again!’

‘Wow.’

‘And comb our hair neatly!’

‘Geez. And can we do that too?’

‘You don’t have to, no. But you can, you just need to try it out. Some kids are a bit embarrassed to wear uniform, but I loved it, so maybe you’ll like it too. And your parents have to agree too, of course.’

And so on. It wasn’t too difficult to get them interested, even a bit mesmerised. I have to add that I cut an unusual figure, as a European boy in Malaysian uniform. The parents loved me too, they were often all over me, ‘So wonderful to see you, such an example…’ 

I had real impact, though. Some of these boys really went for it, as I had done. I’d see them again after a few weeks and they’d show me their empty closet: ‘I’ve done as you said, cadet! Only uniform now!’

‘Well done, cadet! What does your Dad think of that?'

'O he think it strange, but good, he like the uniform so I'm happy!'

'Excellent, cadet.'

It seemed fun, at first, I was very happy to be out of the house, and just allowed to talk to people, a real break with my lonely life - but as with the colonel's son, I began to have doubts about it all.

[cadet-aviator]

A letter

During all this, I had very little contact with my Dad.

And then one evening, as I was entering the colonels' office to hear my daily assessment, the colonel said – out of the blue - that as communication with my father was so sketchy, he thought it wise that I would write a proper letter once every two weeks, starting there and then.

I was told to sit down, he handed me pen and paper, and then made it clear what this letter was going to have to say. I was expected to write that I was happy and grateful for the constant care of the colonel and his family, the pleasant surroundings, the wonderful house, etc.

I was also told to be honest about my failing grades, and suggest to Dad that it might be better if I were to leave school for a while, so that I could fully devote myself to my service. I could of course be as personal or intimate as I wished, but the letter would not be sent if it didn’t meet with the colonel’s approval. This was simple military procedure, he said.

I sat down and did as I was instructed. The colonel didn't have to dictate the letter; I knew what he wanted, and followed suit.

This is what I wrote, with his aide de camp literally looking over my shoulder:

Hello Sir,

Hope you’re doing fine, out there, Sir, I’m sending this through your office, hoping they’ll get it to you. Really hoping to see you soon, Sir. Is there any news from Mom? I wrote to her but haven't heard back.

Things are going really well here, I have to say it took some time to adjust, but the colonel and his wife have been very patient and kind, and the schedule for my work in the house is OK, mostly the kind of laundry things and ironing that I did at home with you too, so nothing new there. I am also getting along with XY, who is a great kid, and I am a actually bit jealous sometimes that he grows up in this great home with these great parents. He’s getting to be a real cadet too, very inspiring.

I kind of miss the school drill squad, but I get to spend a lot of time with the colonel on base, sometimes he takes me along to carry his papers as an aide de camp when his real aide is off on leave, and that is always very interesting. I am really honoured to stand guard outside while he’s having a meeting, or things like that.

One thing is not so great, you will have heard, and that’s my school stuff, the grades. I have to stay at 8.5 but I’m not doing so well now, I mean it’s still pretty good compared to the rest of the class, but both the colonel and my school mentors have suggested that my first priority should be my service at home and my cadet duties. As I have done OK in the past years they are willing to consider giving me a leap year, which is one year away from school, just to do better as a cadet. 

I know that it is up the colonel to decide that, but I wonder what you think? You know I will do whatever you and the colonel decide, of course. The colonel also told me that my performance at home will be most critical to whatever plans the Cadet Program has in store for me after I turn 16, so I’m trying to really focus on that, you know me, always trying to be perfect, Sir! 

I’m still a bit in the dark about my passport, I mean my nationality, Sir, am I still European or did the fact that I signed up for the Army Cadet Program mean that I will become a Malay citizen, Sir? And does that mean I have to stay on in the Army after I turn 18?

Hope to talk to you soon, Dad, I mean Sir,

Love

B

The colonel approved of this, and it was duly sent to Dad.

Only later that night did it sink in that I had just asked my Dad to let me quit school and become a fulltime soldier.

[cadet-aviator]

Relentless

Weeks went by. I’d like to say that I got used to this new life, this strict household, the mad schedule, but I didn’t.

Things were tough to deal with and they got tougher. It wasn’t the discipline as such, I had internalised a lot of that before I was enrolled in the Army Cadet system, it was simply that I got very lonely.

The colonel was always formal and always strict; he never raised his voice or showed emotion, he just dealt with me as the obedient subordinate that I was. His orders were clear and succinct, it had taken me only two days or so to realise that there was no way I could ever respond to them, or debate them.

It was military discipline in pure form, and added to that was this aspect of his status as a member – very distant, but still – of the reigning royal family. I had noticed that other people treated him with unsual respect.

The colonel’s wife never spoke to me, just a nod or a gesture, ‘go’, ‘enough’, ‘more tea’. It wasn’t even that she was cold, it was like I wasn’t a person to her.

I had a better time with the son, who did appreciate having someone around who wasn’t a parent or a superior officer, but he too was aware of his status, and spoke very little to me. He also appreciated the fact that I was his footman, his servant; he would drop his clothes wherever he pleased, made no effort whatsoever to make my life a little easier. 

And where was Dad? I know now that he was genuinely busy, traveling all over the country and several other countries in the area, and he had also flown back and forth to Europe for consultations a few times, so he was simply unable, most of the time, to sit down for a good chat on the phone. I also know that he did call the house, sometime, but he would be told that all was well, and I was busy somewhere in the barracks, and would call back – but in practice, these messages came late, and I had to apply for a phone call well in advance, which didn’t make much sense as I didn’t know when and where to reach Dad. So our normal, familiar relationship suffered; I also realise now that Dad felt that this was my choice, it had been against his better judgement, and it wasn’t all that odd that he thought I had to suffer the consequences of my actions.

That thought did occur to me too, of course. I had persuaded him that I really wanted to live as a cadet, 24 hours a day, seven days as week. I had not counted on this life, this sphere of total compliance, total obedience, this numbness – but saying that, I did have, at the back of my mind, this difficult, lingering thought that it was actually right for me, that my request to live as a cadet was not just me being a petulant adolescent. I lived like this because I had to live like this, because there was something deep down in me that made me want to obey, to serve.

I had already spent hours and hours standing, waiting, breathing, numb and quiet, and I remember how strong I felt when I did those late evening shifts in Camp, but now the numbness crept up on me, it kind of began to freeze me, inside, and then there was that recurring thought, that it was exactly what needed to happen to me.

It was confusing and alarming, I felt as if my 'self' was falling apart, or was just... discarded, as not necessary for what I was ordered to do.

Very confusing. And something had to give.

[cadet-aviator]

The son

Taking care of the colonel’s son, XY, was also part of my duties, although I was not formally called a nanny, or something.

My responsibilities were practical, first of all: I had to take care of the boy’s laundry – which was quite extensive – and I had to make sure he was dressed correctly for school, and for his other obligations.

That seemed simple enough, making sure he had a clean uniform shirt every morning, and providing a fresh one in the afternoon, after he got home – the colonel had determined that XY was to wear uniform every day of the week, although he did have normal, casual things, and would get to wear those occasionally.

He was not scrutinised as fiercely as I was, but every evening before dinner the colonel took his boy apart, and checked his uniform, so they could then sit down and be like a normal family.

But the boy had more uniforms than one, and it took a lot of figuring out what he had to wear, and when. His basic uniform for his military school was grey – grey shorts, grey shirt, red shoulder lapels, a red and grey striped tie, only on certain days.

I had to be very attentive to his school schedule, then, so XY wouldn’t show up in the wrong uniform for the wrong occasion on the wrong day.

His drill uniform, for instance, was dark blue, with a dark blue and grey striped tie, and there the tie was mandatory during drill practice.

If XY got in trouble, then so did I – his demerits were immediately transferred to my discipline record.

That was not all. His dad, the colonel, had also enrolled him in something like a ‘junior cadet prep programme’, specifically for officer’s children, to prepare them for a life in the Armed Forces. For that, he had a rather formal uniform, much like mine: white shirt, red and grey striped tie, grey uniform jacket. In that program XY had to attend extra lessons and drills on Saturdays and they were often followed by a reception or even a formal dinner, where the boys were supposed to chat with older officers.

Often his dad was there with him, and XY would be shown off, almost like a mascot.

These gatherings were not unlike the ‘conviviality’ meetings to which I and my best drill mates in school had been invited, years before. The Army obviously seemed to think that it would inspire young children to stand around in perfect uniform, listening to older officers talk about how wonderful life in the Army was. I remember that I enjoyed those meetings, as at the time I was still very excited about being a perfect cadet, and I felt I was honoured and appreciated this way.

For XY it was different: he had no choice in the matter. He was a lively kid, basically very nice, actually, but his dad simply had determined that he was to have a rigorously strict upbringing, and so he sat through those dinners, polite and scared and subdued, enduring the endless ‘tutorials’ of these older men, afraid to put a foot (or a fork) wrong. 

I know how that those dinners went, because on more than one occasion I was the attending servant.

You can imagine this produced quite a bit of resentment, or even anger, in the boy, and he had only one outlet: me. I was five or six years older, but in the household I was a cadet-servant, and he outranked me. I had to follow his orders, I had to make sure he would not get into any trouble, I had to clean up after him.

He would come home from these events exhausted, ready to drop te uniform as soon as he could. He took of his tie and crashed on the bed.

I was my job to then get him to shower and change into a fresh shirt, a fresh tie, remind him to obey the rules, be proud of his uniform, focus on being a good boy during dinner with his parents.

At dinner, his dad would quiz him on the names and ranks of the officers he spoke to, what they had talked about, what XY had learned from that, and so on. Sometimes the colonel would tell XY to write a thank-you letter to an officer, thanking him for his inspiring words. At other times, XY would have to write an essay for his Dad, on a minor topic that had come up during such a meeting.

I felt for him, really, he was not a monster, he was trapped in a world of rules and punishments (he did get the cane, now and then), and it was up to me to set an example. I began to find that very difficult.

[cadet-aviator]

The wife

I had little to do with the colonel’s wife.

This was a bit of a disappointment to me, as I had lived without my own mother for a few years already, and I guess I secretly expected a bit of kindness and warmth from her. This was not to be.

Mrs. Y was very much the colonel’s wife, very much aware of rank and standing. She was also of a very respectable patrician family, local people treated her with exceptional respect – in short, I was not on her level and she acted accordingly.

During the first few days of my stay in her house she did acknowledge my existence.

She chatted to me, friendly, ‘Glad to have you, cadet-student, my husband can use the service’, ‘Hope you fit in’, ‘I’m sure you’ll be comfortable up there’, ‘Hope you won’t miss your parents too much’, but that was about it. I was a cadet-student, lowest rank possible in the Army, and I also noted a distinct dislike for anything ‘European’ – so that put me even lower on her scale of things. 

There was a kind of cold steel in her; when she said 'We like to run a nice clean house, here, and I'm sure you'll contribute', she really meant: 'I will not tolerate any kind of sloppy behaviour or faulty appearance, and you will be quiet and invisible.'

She had her own assistant, a lady who took care of her outfits whenever Mrs. Chow wasn’t available, and she used an Army driver to get her around town. I only served her during meals and made sure I got out of her way as much as possible. She never ever came to see me in my attic room.

I have to say she was equally cool to her son, XY. He was clearly her husband’s little project, and at the dinner table she could be very distant and very strict with him, usually addressing him as ‘cadet’, rather than with his first name. He had been brought up in that manner, and never seemed to mind too much, but I felt for him.

[cadet-aviator]

The colonel

After school I went back home immediately, changed into my cadet whites, checked to see if the colonel or his wife had left instructions, and then usually I had a mass of laundry to get through.

I would spend hours preparing the colonels uniforms, polish his shoes, iron his shirts to perfection, clean up in his bedroom and his office. 

One of the things that really struck me then, as a perfect illustration of my low status, was that the colonel would occasionally walk into the room, as I was working. I had to immediately come to attention and take up a position in the room where I would not be in the way.

He would pick something up, or change his shirt – he had a lot of uniform changes, formal-informal – and as he did that he never ever acknowledged my presence (or my existence). He'd go about his business, humming, at ease.

He’d undress, shower, pick out clean underwear, put on a fresh shirt, it was as if I was invisible to him. Only rarely did he give a direct order. Most of the time he would just drop his old shirt, say, and it would be obvious what needed to be done.

This was the main challenge for me: to accept being invisible, quiet, part of the furniture, as he said I was.

[cadet-aviator]

Back in school

Every morning, after my inspection and my breakfast service, I was dismissed, so I could quickly change into school uniform and walk – never run! – to school.

Until then, school had been pretty strict in its discipline too. We lined up for the national anthem and the raising of the flag every morning, we walked quietly and well-behaved through the corridors, we were very attentive in class, but it was a regular school.

I had mates there, we chatted about everything and anything, and since I was a straight A student, I didn’t have much of the exam stress other students had. And until my transfer to the Army base I had been deeply involved in the drill squad, which I had loved; the school’s team had reached the national finals and had come home with honours.

But things had changed. First of all, my mates were suprised that I had requested that transfer, even though they were aware of my home situation. Doing your best in drills and taking meticulous care of your uniform was one thing, volunteering to enter the Army and becoming a house servant to an officer was quite another. And as I had only just begun to realise what was really going on with me, that I was firmly owned by the Army, now, and that the colonel had in fact become my ‘parent’, I found it hard to explain to my mates why I had made that request. I brushed it off, saying it was only temporary, until my Dad returned from his busy job, and my Mom got better, and such. 

The changes did extend, however, to life at school.

There was a little specification in the colonel’s rules which I remember particularly well, something new. My school shirts were now to have ‘regulation high collars’. I had only two shirts with such a collar, and had to quickly organise to buy some more in the school shop. Some of the older boys at school wore them, they were considered old fashioned, they harked back to the times when boy’s collars were much wider, and not attached to the shirt.

Wearing a collar and tie in a tropical climate was a challenge at the best of times, and these high collars were quite uncomfortable – but they did look smart, I have to say. You could do a bigger knot in your tie, and make it stand out a little.

My new rules stipulated that I could chat to other boys, but I should refrain from initiating conversation. Whenever I had a few minutes to spare, waiting for a new class to begin, I had to find a quiet place, back to the wall, and stand in waiting mode, hands behind my back.

My teachers and my school mentor had clearly been informed of my new status, and took it upon themselves to check on me almost constantly, inspecting every detail of my uniform before and after classes.

I had to show I was focused on following the rules all the time, every second of the day, and never give the impression that I was not paying attention. 

So I changed, from a normal happy 15-year old schoolboy to a quiet, introverted, utterly serious and utterly alert cadet-student. The only thing I could really do was work, and work hard. It was hugely challenging, though, especially the loss of social contact.

Some of my best friends would come up to me, trying to get me to chat, and I would oblige, but it was awkward. Some of them respected that, some of them just gave up. And so my life at school, like life at home, became very still. I was really reduced to being uniformed, completely obedient, quiet, almost numb.

I began to internalise that situation. I felt I could handle it - and deep down, there was this quiet voice that told me this was who I really was.