Diary of a Patriotic Corper: Once a Navy Boy, Forever an Ex-boy

We all received the memo yesterday that we were to assemble at 8 a.m. at the local government council. The memo included that we were to dress properly and that it was mandatory that everyone come around. Knowing that this new development was going to disrupt my plans, I was really sceptical about going.

I didn't want to take any chances, and so I got myself taken care of and dressed up when the morning came. At the time, I was ready to leave; however, it was around 9:00 a.m. The subtle art of African timing is at work again. Everyone knows that such a meeting never really starts on time, and so I just didn't feel the need to hastily move. More so, I had a tonne of work to attend to before I left.

Fast forward to the time I arrived at the location. The ceremony, as it turned out, hadn't started yet and didn't seem like it was going to commence any time soon. That was very surprising.

Armed Forces Remembrance Day was what we were actually there for. It was a very familiar day to me, but it didn't come to mind. Consequentially, we were supposed to perform a march past as Corpers, as it was customary to do so to celebrate it. And that was when it all started.

With no prior information provided, we were left to gather ourselves on such short notice and come up with something to present. Not many people are usually enthusiastic to march under harsh weather conditions like the scorching sun we were under, especially without being mentally prepared prior, so that was challenge number one—getting the squad together.

Someone finally put a squad together, and I helped. For some reason, I was concerned about the march and its success. Then the need for the one person who would lead the squad through the event arose.

"Oh, you're looking for someone who would serve as the parade commander. Don't worry, I'll do it." I found myself saying it at some point. And that was how I became the parade commander.

You see, it wasn't the first time, nor was it the 100th time I was doing this marching thing and even serving as a parade commander as well. In my years as a student at the Nigerian Navy Secondary School, Abeokuta, I was a very active member of the guard, a group of people that march every morning to decorate the parade. We carried rifles too, but only wooden ones. And when the day came for my set to graduate, there was a passing-out parade, and I led a division.

Even during the three weeks we spent in camp at the beginning of my service year, I served as a parade commander for my platoon. It is always a natural thing for me to want to do.

Unlike how it should be normally, we had a really small area to use, and the way it was seemed like a puzzle on how to strategize how we would move. Considering that not everyone was savvy with this thing, we all settled for something simple. We didn't want to overcomplicate things and embarrass ourselves like the audience had expected us to.

After a long time of rehearsing what we had come up with, the moment of truth finally came. There was only a small problem. A squad of elderly men put together were right in our way, covered up, and not likely to move. No, this was a very big problem instead.

There was no way we could do all that we had planned to do, and we even spent a lot of time rehearsing. And there was no more time to figure out something else. At this point, everything rested on my shoulders, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to lead a squad on something we didn't even anticipate and prepare for.

"Guys, just listen to me and follow my commands." I said this to my parade people. I didn't want to put them off balance by coming off confused, but in reality, I was perplexed in that moment. "Parade! By the left, right, turn!" I gave the first command that wasn't planned.

From that moment on, I started calling on my experience as a parade commander and started to perform mathematics on how to navigate the squad around the field. There was a lot of excitement in the audience, but I really couldn't be distracted by it. Otherwise, I would flop it all.

At the top of my lungs, I was exerting all of the energy I had to give clear and audible commands. It was necessary so that my squad would hear me well and respond adequately.

After we were done with our march past, we received applause and accolades. We did very well, even with short notice, and everyone was impressed. There were even commentaries like, "That parade commander must either have a father, mother, brother, or sister in the military to have done such a great job today." It was after everything I processed that I heard about our performance. I had to concentrate, you know.

Throughout today, I heard many good compliments about our performance. Many people who hadn't actually seen me do that in camp before were surprised that I could pull it off. They think it's only laptops and phones that I know how to do in this life. Heh.

Well, hours and hours later, dear reader, I still cannot speak without my vocals hurting. It sure has been so long since I did this. Thankfully, this wasn't meant to be a podcast episode—yet.

There should be photographs and videos to show, but for some reason, the tens of phones I saw taking our photographs and making videos of us seem to vanish into thin air. Until I gather them and share them here, this story will have to suffice.