It was a stifling summer day. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky and reflected off the Portland stone of Whitehall. Only the breeze from the direction of Saint James Park brought any relief to the soldiers lined up on Horse Guards Parade.
There were just over two hundred men formed up on the sand-covered square. Two hundred men in full ceremonial dress - red jackets, black trousers and heavy bearskin caps. Tradition dictated that these were worn on all official occasions, no matter how inappropriate for the weather.
Private James Full was one of those lined up on Horse Guards Parade. He stood there, almost motionless in the heat, a fine trickle of sweat making its way between the bristles of his recently barbered scalp. The parade had been called because some foreign politician - Full neither knew nor cared who - had decided that he wanted to see "England's finest soldiers in all their finery." And so the Ministry had obliged him. But, all that James knew was that he desperately wanted a cold beer.
A crowd had gathered on the road, just the other side of the security cordon, and were watching the pomp and ceremony. Phones and cameras were raised to record the foreign dignitary's walk along the ranks. Meanwhile, a military band beat out a tune loud enough to drown the noise from the London traffic. The rhythm of the drumming was soporific in the summer heat, and Private Full felt his body respond. His heart slowed, starving his brain of precious oxygen and his muscles of essential nutrients. He started to sway.
No! James caught himself, and stiffened his stance. The words of his company sergeant came back to him.
"Whatever you do - don't fucking move! Anyone who steps out of line, so much as moves their eyes, I will have them up on a fucking charge! Got that?"
"Yes sar'nt!"
"Yes sergeant," James murmured, his lips barely moving as he vocalised.
"And if you're going to fucking faint - faint to fucking attention! Got that?"
"Yes sar'nt!"
As the sand of the parade ground rose to fill Private Full's fading vision, all he could think of was how desperately he wanted that beer.
