Henry Knew.

The Chief of the Defence Force’s VIP aircraft taxied to a halt on the tarmac.

The CDF descended the stairs.

I came to attention, bringing my sword from its blade’s resting place on my right shoulder, to the vertical.

‘Flight! Atten-shun!’ I called to the 18 airmen and airwomen standing at ease behind me.

‘Flight! Shoulder … ARMS!’ I heard the soft whoosh of 18 L1A1 Self Loading Rifles being smoothly hoisted off the tarmac with one hand and grasped with two.

‘Flight! General salute! Pre-sent…ARMS!’

I bring the hilt of my sabre smoothy and sharply to my my lower lip with my right elbow close to my body and they wrist straight.

CDF and his Aide stride briskly towards us as I hold my pose, knowing the 18 behind me are holding their rifles vertically in front of their bodies, just as we practised.

The CDF is almost at the right marker, before I can order: ‘Flight! Shoulder…ARMS!’ He stands and waits for me. Quicker than how we rehearsed.

I draw my sword back to the vertical, execute a crisp right turn, march towards the CDF, halting three paces from him. I give him a shorter salute with my sword, bringing the hilt to my lip, pausing, then returning my blade to the vertical. CDF returns my salute with his hand and a smile. The Air Officer Commanding has slipped to the right rear of the CDF, two paces behind him.

‘Good morning, Sir! Welcome to RAAF Base Pearce. Ceremonial Flight ready for your inspection, Sir!’ CDF nods, I execute an about turn, ready to accompany CDF along the three ranks.

Damn they look good! I think as I scan the front rank and CDF begins his slow walk along their rigid line. They look REALLY good. Bayonets glint in the sun and they are dressed perfectly, aligned with barely a variation along each rank. Text book. I feel proud.

CDF looks each of them up and down, and stops to chat to two or three along the way as I escort him in this ancient military ritual of a commander checking on the readiness and morale of his troops.

We reach the end of the rear rank, and the CDF and I exchange salutes, before the AOC accompanies him the fifty metres to Headquarters to begin his inspection of the Base.

I thank the Ceremonial Flight and dismiss them to return to their various duties maintaining aircraft and filing cabinets.

‘I want the film from that camera, Corporal! NOW!'

It’s the Warrant Officer Disciplinary (WOD) who is the Senior Airman, and who selected me to be the Officer in Charge of Drill and Ceremony. (‘You’re the only Officer who polishes his shoes and knows his left from his right, Sir!’ he explained with faint praise.)

I returned my sword to its scabbard and followed the Warrant Officer to find out what he was so angry about.

‘Henry!’ I called out after checking all the airmen had dispersed from earshot and would not hear me calling the WOD by his first name. ‘They looked good, didn’t they? CDF rushed us a bit, but they looked impressive.’

Henry ignored me. 'Do NOT send those photos to RAAF News or anywhere other than on my desk!’ he continued to yell at the poor Corporal photographer. ‘If any other WOD sees pictures of what I just witnessed, I’ll be buying beers until my retirement!’

‘I don’t undestand, Warrant Officer,’ I said. ‘They were perfect!’

Henry finally stopped turned, and gave me a curt salute, which I returned. ‘You left them at the Shoulder Arms, Sir!’ Henry said, before turning his back on me and striding towards HQ, shaking his head. ‘You were meant to return them to the Order Arms, Sir. They’re meant to be inspected at the Order Arms, not the Shoulder Arms.’ He was far enough from me to be shouting, now.

‘I didn’t have time, Henry!’ I protested. ‘And anyway, I think they looked better at the Shoulder Arms position!' Don’t you?! They should change the Drill Manual and have inspections with weapons at the Shoulder. Those bayonets looked so good…’

Henry shook his head and kept walking. ‘Officers!’ he growled. ‘Bloody Officers!’

We talk of ‘Excellence’ and ‘High Performing’ and ‘Elite’ and other buzz words.

That assumes we know what ‘Excellence’ looks like. What ‘High Performing’ feels like. What ‘Elite’ requires.

My ‘looks sharp’ was the Senior Airman’s embarrassment.

My ‘good enough for government work’ was the Warrant Officer Disciplinary’s vocation.

My ‘high performing’ was Henry’s disappointment in me.

I doubt my boss the Air Officer Commanding or his boss the Chief of Defence Force picked up the error.

But Henry did.