In 1966, I was attending St Ignatius College, Riverview in Sydney. In Year 9 I was encouraged to join the Cadet Corps. About 100 students joined the Corps each year with many staying through until Year 11 or Year 12.
The first year in the Corps was all about basic training, particularly on the Friday afternoon parades. We trained for the fun we would have on the annual camp held at the Army Training Facility in country Singleton.
Much of the basic training focused on presentation. We wore jungle green clothing. We were issued with web belts, anklet gaiters, traditional Australian Army slouch hats and standard issue Army boots. As cadets we had only one pair of boots – they had to do the task of training on dust swept grounds, basic bush training and parade ground presentation.
The front part of the boot, just below the laces to the tip of the boot, was especially toughened. We were trained how to spit polish this part of the boot so that it shone like a mirror (well that’s what we liked to think anyway).
The webbing was blackened with a special stain. The web belt was done up with brass clips – and on each side of the brass clips were brass stays to enable the belt to be fitted for length. Naturally, the brass was expected to be highly polished. We used a product called (naturally enough) Brasso – it was most effective in banishing the verdigris/green muck that accumulated on the brass bits if not cleaned regularly and carefully.
Towards the end of the year, the whole of the school’s cadet corps paraded on First Field at the College. Our parents attended and we all sought to perform parade ground drills at an excellent standard.
Now at the annual parade, prizes for achievement or exemplary conduct were awarded to cadets including some from the most senior ranks down to one from ‘C’ Company, the Company to which all first year cadets were attached for recruit training.
Some three Fridays prior to the holding of the Annual Parade, Senior Cadet Under Officers (CUOs) – students who had been in the Corps for at least three years and who had undertaken in addition to attendance at the annual Singleton camps, specialised leadership training also conducted at Singleton – named five cadet recruits from ‘C’ Company and asked that they present themselves outside the Armoury at the conclusion of the day’s training.
I was one of the 5 – and quite uncertain as to why my name had been called out. As we made our way to the Armory, the 5 of us wondered as to what we might have done, or not done, that had led to us being called out for a mini-Parade.
I have three older brothers – one was a couple of years’ older than me. He had finished school in 1965. He too had been in the cadets. John was always into discovering nick-nacks that helped make life easier. He had discovered an ironing tool that could be used to keep the bend in his slouch hat. He had discovered something even better than spit to polish his boots and he had passed his secret on to me – neither of us were aware just how this would help me on that fateful day.
The 5 of us arrived a few minutes before the CUOs joined us at the Armory.
That Friday afternoon was warm with a bright sun and little cloud. We had trained on the College’s Second Field. There had been no rain for days and the Field was dusty. Everything was dirty. All the gear we were wearing desperately needed a wash.
As we lined up at the Armory, I put my hand in one of the deep pockets of the trousers. I pulled out a cloth dampened with Brasso - wiped the damp section over the brass without removing the webbing. I wiped the drying Brasso off with a dry corner of the cloth. The brass accoutrements gleamed.
I reached into pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle with a black cap – unscrewing the cap revealed a foam appliqué positioned above a container with black fluid.
Reaching down, I ran the appliqué over the front part of my boots, over the part we had been encouraged to spit polish. In less than 30 seconds, the front of my boots were gleaming. Spit polish might leave a longer-lasting shine, but I wasn’t going to bet on that.
The Regimental Warrant Officer called the five of us to attention – we still did not know why we were on parade. The CUOs began to review – I was the 4th from the right so I was the 2nd last to be approached. As the CUOs moved done the line,they reached me and stopped. Almost as though someone had punched them. They completed the review and moved away to have a brief discussion. Two of them returned to me and, with the other cadets with me still in parade, challenged me – did I know why we were on parade. Had someone told me to leave the training parade early and put clean gear on. I answered in the negative to all of this.
The Regimental Commander dismissed the others and asked me to remain at attention.
All the CUOs and the RSM then approached me and advised that as I “had clean boots” they had decided to choose me as that year’s “Smartest Recruit”.
Now I like to think that I was the Best Recruit of 1966 – and maybe I was, they just call the award something a little different. And perhaps being smartest is even a little more difficult than being the best.
The truth is, an older brother, using the wisdom of his years of experience, gave me the nod to have a bottle of Collonil always close at hand. A wonderful German product I still use today.
