By Commander Gaurav Aggarwal - © Quarterdeck: Vol. 18, 2005.

The author is a regular contributor to naval magazines. His irreverent humour has found many admirers. He currently serves in the Naval Repair Yard, Port Blair; the Mecca of jointmanship.

It was D-Day at the Naval Academy...Passing Out Parade of the Spring Term 1988. I stood at the head of the Parade, awaiting the arrival of the Chief Guest, the COAS General V N Sharma. The bugle sounded, and after the Salaami Shastra I strode out towards the dais to make the customary report. I halted at the annointed spot with the loudest thump of boots that I could muster. My sword hilt brushed my lips as I saluted the Chief in absolute copy book style. Down went my sword hand against my side, and I was in Salaami Shastra position, the tip of the blade quivering, the regulation 6 inches off the ground at the specified 45 degree angle. Not bad at all, I said to myself, as the General's hand flew to to the peak of his cap, in return of my salute. So far so good, I thought, as I waited for the General to cut his salute. That would be my cue for shouting my report to him. Boy, oh boy, I really loved the shouting. The more senior the VIP, the louder the shout. After all, when does one get a chance to bellow at a Senior Officer, and get complimented for it!!! But what in blazes was this? Instead of sticking to the script by slapping his thigh sharply, and cutting the salute, thereby letting me get on with proceedings in the prescribed manner, the COAS kept his right hand firmly at the peak of his cap, glaring ferociously at me from under his bushy brows. All those who knew him will vouch that his glare was disconcerting indeed, even to senior officers, never mind a lowly acting Sub Lieutenant, yet to wear his first stripe.

So there we stood, both ramrod straight, mentally locked in ritual, neither willing to budge from the prescribed format of his Service. What the heck is he waiting for? Something was wrong, but what? I mentally ticked off all my movement - no problem there - it had gone with clockwork precision. What is he waiting for, I asked myself. "To complete my salute?", an inner voice hesitantly suggested. Logic struggled with military (inflexible) indoctrination. Believe me, it was a struggle! A sign, an omen, please Lord, get me out of this mess, I pleaded. And through the thickening clouds of confusion, I saw the Captain NAVAC, signal frantically from behind the VVIP, to complete the salute. Ah, light at last! Eureka! Land ahoy, and all that jazz! Up swung my arm, and….Now, what?! The General had decided not to wait till this Naval greenhorn got his act together. Just as my arm started to swing up, to complete my salute, he cut his salute, freezing me once more. Now my sword was hovering 6 inches higher, in mid air. This is too bloody much, I thought! Why can't he make up his mind. Gritting my teeth, I once again assumed Salaami Shastra, with sword tip quivering the prescribed distance off the ground. We faced each other squarely again, only this time it was I who was glaring at him. An almost imperceptible smile quivered at the corner of his mouth, he nodded ever so slightly. Satisfied that he would stick to script, I made my report to him, informing him very loudly, very clearly and unambiguously, that the Parade was ready for his inspection...SIR. I was hard put to explain to the Gunnery Officer why things had almost come unstuck, right at the start. Now, in these days of jointmanship, I hope small glitches like this one have been sorted out… Have they?

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