High school army cadets were a huge part of my school’s extra-curricular program, largely due to the principal, who was a former army officer. Everyone, both girls and boys, was required to participate. For some strange reason, it caught my attention and interest. I became an avid cadet during my five years as a student. During that time I took an active part in all activities offered, one year winning the top marksman competition for rifle shooting. Again recognition and affirmation became major factors that inspired me. During my last year of high school, I was promoted to Cadet Major, head of the corps, and awarded the highest cadet award-the Gold Star, the affirmation that my efforts had brought some distinction to my school’s cadet corps.
In grade 13 I was chosen to represent my school at a five-week summer camp in the Canadian Rockies. I was one of 235 cadets from high schools across Canada chosen to be a “Banff Cadet”, the name stemming from the fact that our camp was close by the popular Alberta resort town.
Early one morning, two weeks after we had settled into our routine, we were suddenly ordered to fall in on the parade square. A trio of army officers solemnly marched along our ranks ordering certain cadets to “step forward”. I was among them. The reason for this unusual exercise puzzled us, but was soon made apparent. They had chosen 100 cadets to serve as honour guard for the Duke of Edinburgh who was scheduled to make a stop in Chilliwack, B.C. while on his royal tour. We were quickly fitted with tropical worsted army uniforms and placed aboard a special train headed for B.C. It seemed like no time that we were standing at rigid attention while the Duke sauntered up and down our lines, pausing here and there to chat with nervous cadets. It was the first and last time that I have been in the presence of royalty, but this fleeting moment caused me to realize that I mattered.
While at the Banff camp, a small group of cadets, organized by the army brass on a rotation basis, was invited to the Banff Springs Hotel for dances with young female hotel guests who needed dance partners. My school’s elegant Scottish uniform- the red tunic, kilt, leather belt, sporran, diamond socks, and white spats- was stand-out attire that few other Banff cadets wore. It is difficult not to notice such a handsome uniform, although I do not recall being swamped by eager dance partners. Some of my cadet friends begged me for the loan of my uniform when it was their turn to go dancing, thinking it would be a definite advantage.
Perhaps it was. Feeling good in a smart uniform suited me well because, following the example of my foster father, who was a snappy dresser, I quickly caught on that smartly dressed people look sharp, feel good, and look good. Others sit up and take notice. Throughout my working life, I have always believed in dressing well.
