What a sad way to cap an otherwise busy and interesting day.

Rad was being his wannabe-lawyer obtuse best this evening when we had a tiring discussion about what dress was in order for the Passchendaele Dinner. The tradition has long been that trews (tartan pants) are worn at men only or (de facto) officers only dinners whereas kilted order is worn when mixed company is present. Why? Hey, it's a tradition and I can speculate on why, but whence time immemorial we had always done so - Rad, who finds himself bereft of trews, insists that he is going to wear the kilted order of mess kit because he doesn't have trews and his DEU jacket is away at the dry cleaners. Which to my mind, would have been argument enough, but he decides to call it unconstitutional (mess constitution) when we have seen fit to draw a tangent in the purchase of a different parting gift for Rick, who is leaving the mess, than the usual pewter mug. This is named as a precedent for his being allowed to essential wear whatever he desires. I see this as a slippery slope, and he really should know better - having been there for almost as long as I have, and comissioned before me. He is, however, young and headstrong and it seems little said unless it comes directly from the CO, and he would even argue with the CO, would settle his hash. IT seems that Rob has become less weasely and oily and Rad has picked up the persona of he-whom-he-hated-most then - Rob. Rad has more interest in the letter of the law than its spirit and I don't imagine that coming in top of his course has not done a little in blowing up his head to biblical proportions. He is not by any measure become, or will I accord any more respect tthan neccessary and only where it lies - he is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefielf. He is. How he is to lead troops is another matter if, God forbid, do not measure up to the expectaions that he has set for himself and them. At least he sets them. I have been around for too long, and been a defender of traditions in the mess when they were seen as an annoyance and a trifle, to let it go so easily and especially to one whom all things are expected to yield simply because he does not. That is the very essence of arrogant presumption. We have certainly suffered, if not retarded, as a mess and as the leadership that is the officer corps of the Regiment in not having a cadre of senior leaders to rein in the feisty spirits of the junior subalterns, and to point out traditions and a respect for what is right for the sake of something more important than we ourselves are - the traditions, spirit and essence of a highland Regiment. When we act and feel as if all must bend to our vaccilating will, then the Regiment must fall for no man is an island...

I do not weep but am angry that he has chosen this time to flaunt this new-found confidence, which he was so lacking in when he returned. I understand his need for a modicum of respect, and his dire straits in having only half of the proper dress required - and that he not be treated like some new officer cadet, green behind the ears and young in the ways of the Regiment, but he acts thus and with an overblown confidence of someone who knows how to argue based upon the letter of words. If he does become a lawyer, he will be good at trying to find loopholes and holding the rules and regulations in your face, but I doubt if he will find an arguement for the human spirit and the moral honour that it takes to defend a thought if it is not in his favour or one that he thought indefensible.

If the old hands go, I shall be left alone in a sea of Rad-flavoured cronies who are too new to know better. I tshall be a tough fight but one that I think I shall relish. I am tired of all this pettiness when we have worked so hard to get where we are. I remember days when we could count the number of officers on one hand. When we were donning and doffing multiple hats and happy in our work - as Colonel Saito would have put it, and we didn't have the luxury of basking in the spares hands that we have now. What will matter is that people that have the fight in them to stand up for what they think is right - to do so, and not shrink and run away at the thought of battle - wither in the flesh or in the mind. The battlefields of the spirit are many, as are the formless and lifeless remains of all those who have come and gone. What is life if not worth the struggle for right and truth? This is where we must shine as man - to make a point, an equitable and fair arguement based on facts and truth and not might.

forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit