Chapter 2

The Sargeant of the Guard, a Marine Master Gunnery Sargeant in undress uniform, medals and sash, gazed studiously over the assembling crowd wondering once again how the 'newbies' could so totally on this one day each year disrupt his peace and tranquility. This was 'THE DAY'. The day when the schools' – many schools' - graduates arrived to begin their posting to the Weapons' Development Bureau. He had pointedly suggested to the personnel officer that the arrival should be staggered. His back channel to his friend the Space Lord's writer was repulsed with an acerbic, 'can't change the system, that's the way it's always been done'.

He surveyed his domain standing ramrod straight beside his Corporal watching his sentries' attempting to turn chaos into order as newly minted Ensigns, apprentices (he swore they got younger each year and most of them should still have been in short pants and dresses) and civilians fresh from colleges physically struggled in and against the tide of the civilian garbed naval personnel and hordes of tradesmen and labourers going to work in the grounds behind his guard house.

The 'newbies' were all supposed to be intelligent or at least able to read and write but the Gunny didn't believe it – their orders came with instructions to wear work dress (at least they all got that right) and to report for inprocessing at Gates 5 and 6 for other ranks, civilians etc and Gate 7 for officers.

Around the fringe of the crowd towards the 'newbies' gates he could see a loose clustering of the more experienced as they had started on that side at the rear. As he looked over the struggling throng a flash of light colour behind the throng caught his eye. It was passing rapidly toward his left outside the fence of the extensive front gardens. Some minutes later movement at the left periphery caught his eye and through the garden shrubbery came a grey uniformed figure walking briskly toward Gate 7 across the lawn.

He had never seen that uniform before. Warning bells sounded behind his eyes and telling the senior sentry at the post to follow him, he pushed through the lines at Gate 5 and 6 and, with apologies to the loose throng moving to Gate 7, through them, to intercept the trespasser.

Halting at the tail end of Gate 7 line, he watched the young man approach.

What he saw did not impress him. The tunic coat was collared of all things with the top button undone, there were expansable buttoned chest pockets and similar side pockets on the below waist flap; the trousers were, to say the least, baggy, and the colour was that ghostly light grey. Even his fore and aft cover (he later found out that it was called a forage cap) was that unrelieved grey. The only contrast was the black fleur-de-lis on the side of his cover, a black bar on each collar tab and the black low quarter shoes. Towering over the skinny underweight miscreant, the Gunny unleashed his best drill instructor stare.

"There is no gate over there!"

His stare was blankly returned from non descript brown eyes in a totally unexceptional face.

The Gunny repeated, "There is not a gate over there!!!"

The return gaze did not alter.

"Sir!!!?"

"Gunny?"

"I said there is..."

"Yes, I heard you!"

"Sir!"

Nodding to the Master Gunnery Sergeant, the grey clad figure stepped briskly around the fuming NCO, marched through the door marked 'Gate 7' and after a quick glance moved to the table marked "J – O", halted and presented his orders' chit to the seated CPO. A quick glance at the officer's face, a request for a signature indicated at a line under the CPO's gnarled finger was followed by the chip's return and

"Follow the green line, sir, lift to third floor, turn left and Room 3001 is at the end".

"Thank you, Mr Matson" and Ensign McCock made his entrance to Weapons' Development.