80s Cadet Conflicted Memory

I startled myself awake last night, pulled into a vivid dream of my teenage years—one moment that still stirs unease.

It was the early ’80s, and I was seated outside my Commanding Officer’s office, summoned by my father, who believed I owed an explanation to the C.O. for abandoning something I no longer believed in.

A year before, I loved Army Cadets. It gave boys a sense of structure and pride. When the idea of girls joining was raised, a vote was held—teachers, parents, cadets—all had a say. The vote passed. The girls were in. At the time, I supported it.

We could share this unique experience, but integration encountered challenges. Day training was done together, but the girls and boys were kept apart at night. The weekend camps became divided by high hessian walls. The sections became split. Separate camping, cooking, and toileting facilities contradicted the survival lessons we’d been taught in training.

And when promotions came, some females were awarded them without completing the same rigorous training the boys endured to get theirs. It stung. Bad.

It was decided that the walls and split camp layout caused an unseen issue. It thinned out the sections, thereby leaving the girls (a minority) alone in the bush. Parents of the girls wanted safety for their offspring and for them to join the majority of the cadet cluster. A new way of combining the sexes had to be arranged.

The new layout would see girls and guys pitch their tents in the same camp area, by twos, but tents would never contain a boy AND a girl. The first mixed camp fell apart on day three of a week-long camp. Many of the girls struggled with the long, rough bush work. Some refused to eat, hydrate, or even continue. They protested and sat down. One became so dehydrated and malnourished that she needed to be evacuated by helicopter. Our activities stalled, morale dropped, and the group unravelled. It was the worst camp in the history of cadets. It wasn’t the group I had joined and loved anymore.

When I tried to resign, the C.O. refused to accept it. But I had made up my mind. I left my uniform at the door and walked away. I told my father the C.O. didn’t want to talk about it.

Would I vote differently now, knowing what happened?

I don’t think so. Despite this integration, I still believed females and males can work together, even hormonal, temperamental teen versions. It’s a tragic and romantic flaw of mine. I live in hope.

The unit disbanded just a few months after I graduated (a year after I resigned). The breakup was said to have resulted from those issues (and others related to weapons storage, insurance costs, and interest rates).

Sometimes, I think about how that vote reshaped something I loved. Years later, my father told me he voted against it because he foresaw the trouble it would cause.

-Michael. (Author of SEETHINGS, downloadable and free for a limited time)

ABOUT