am not sure or cannot now recall exactly why I joined the cadet force when I was in second form. Maybe I was just bored and was seeking an avenue for my pent up energy. It was not as if most of my friends were joining up, because they were not. In fact, from my class only about three of us joined up and in the entire second form of that year not more than 15 of the 250 of us decided to become cadets. As I recall, others taking the plunge into the unknown with me included Simeon Stewart of Sagittarius Band fame, Knolly “Dread” Derby, Richard Blackford (who went to Camperdown for 6th form and started a cadet unit there) and the late Norman Watson and the late Milton Richards.
At my first cadet meeting we were introduced to the other boys in the unit, senior officers from Up Park Camp who were there to greet us and introduced to the tenets and ideals of the force. At the same time we were extremely pleased to see that there were several boys only a year ahead of us in school who were already seasoned cadets and who would, hopefully, be able to show us the ropes, because the 5th and 6th formers who were the ones with the stripes on their shoulders seemed like towering giants to us.
The boys whom we recognized because they were at Melbourne the year before included Hamlin Pagon, Barry Miller, Oscar Darby and Bert Kedroe. We would be depending on these boys to guide us on the straight and narrow. Soon we were practicing our drills which mainly entailed marching all around the North Street Campus to the “left, right, left, right” commands of the officer in charge. Also important was the preparation for the basic exam in which one had to know a great deal about map-reading, army and military terminology and so on. Passing this exam was important if one wanted to get a stripe and move up the ranks. Within a few months of joining we found ourselves preparing for the seminal event of the year – the annual inspection parade. We looked forward to inspection like children looking forward to Christmas. We were excited but at the same time we wondered if we would be able to take home the prize for even then we felt that winning the trophy was our God-given right.
Back then one of the main features of the KC cadet unit was the cadet band. If you were lucky enough you were invited to join the band. To me it was seen as a privilege open to a select few. I desperately wanted to join the band. In fact, I wanted to be a bugle or trumpet player, even to play the drums, but when I tried to blow the bugle and trumpet no sound came forth and the few drums in the band already had their players. So much for my music career; it never even got started.
By third form I was a seasoned cadet. I attended every practice after school as well as those on Saturdays, and it was not for the food which was provided for us on Saturdays because it was not very delicious. I learnt a thing or two about food in the cadet. For example I learnt a new meaning, new to me at least, of the word “mess”. I had a hard time using the word “mess” to denote anything to do with the food as the senior cadets did. So one day I looked it up in my dictionary and discovered that “mess” was one of those unique English words with several meanings which were sometimes miles apart. To my surprise two of the several definitions of “mess” were, “a company or person who takes meals together, especially in the armed forces” and “a place where such meals or recreation take place communally”. These definitions were distinctly and totally removed from the definition that I knew as a country boy, which was, “a domestic animal’s excreta”. So at the end of training when the senior cadets barked that we were going to the mess-hall after training for lunch I sure did not think of food.
During the school year we had a few training sessions at Up Park Camp and I eagerly attended those and I went to every camp that the unit had during the holidays and also took part in all the hikes. I especially liked the hiking which took us to Newcastle and Blue Mountain Peak and we got to know several remote places in the hills such as, Irish Town, Mavis Bank, Clydesdale, and tiny farming villages which as far as we knew were not even on the map. On these hikes we glimpsed farmers planting and reaping vegetables (and vegetable matter) on steep hillsides where only mules and donkeys felt comfortable. And of course the brave among us would always stop to have a swim in one of the many icy cold streams rolling down the hills. I suppose that that was done to prove one’s manhood just as Russian men swim across the Volga River in the dead of winter to prove theirs.
The first time that I hiked to Blue Mountain Peak I was shocked to see that there were only about 10 bunks in the Forestry Department’s old and dilapidated cottage, when in fact there were about 25 of us on the hike. Those unfortunate enough not to secure one of the bunks had to find sleeping space on the cold floor, but no-one complained because anyone who did would be labeled as someone not fit to be in the KC cadet, a sissy or worse. I had heard stories that on a clear day one could see Cuba from the peak but on the occasions that I went to the peak one could only see about 20 feet away on account of the thick fog which enveloped the mountain. Because it was so cold we also set ice to see if it would freeze but I suppose that the temperature was not below zero on those occasions so we had no ice.
My first cadet camp was to a town in Portland and I recall also going to a camp in Clarendon. At these camps one learnt how to pitch a tent and how to roll out and set up a cot. At least we did not have to sleep on the grass. I doubt that I got much sleep on those occasions because I had this fear that a mongoose would enter my tent while I slept and nibble at my toes. At these camps we also had to hike 10 miles or more each day and again no-one complained for the same reasons given above. Hiking to me was always fun anyway because as a country boy in my pre-KC years my brothers and I had to walk about 5 miles up hill to church on Sundays and for good measure my grandmother would also send us to Sabbath church with our neighbour on Saturdays. That church was also about 5 miles away and uphill. All this hiking to and from church twice a weekly put me in good stead when I joined the cadets. I did not complain to my grandmother either, because as far as she was concerned we would only be excused from attending church if there was an approaching storm or hurricane in the Caribbean Sea or if one of us broke a leg during the week. I noticed however, that she only went to church on Sundays and when we asked her why she did not go with us on Saturdays she mumbled something about arthritis, which we thought was a bad heart.
By the end of third form I grew bored of the cadet which was amazing and ironic because boredom was probably one of the reasons why I had joined in the first place. I suppose that I grew bored of the constant “left, right, left, right” as we marched around the campus. I also never dreamt of a career in the army and so after two years I lost all enthusiasm and motivation to continue. After leaving the cadet unit, to get rid of the ennui, I joined the Camera Club which surprisingly went on hikes to Clydesdale, Cinchona Gardens and other places of interest in the hills of St Andrew and I also became a member of Peter Maxwell’s book club.
I am still friends with many of the boys who entered the unit with me as well as with those who were a year ahead of me. In fact, I was prompted to write this article by a picture posted on Facebook of three KC cadets standing at ease at a camp we had in Clarendon way back then. For some people the cadet unit was a driving passion and some went on to successful military careers in the Jamaican Army. And, of course Barry Miller is still running the unit today and for that we admire his commitment to the unit and his dedication to the development of youngsters at KC.
