The crisp Autumn air carried a faint chill as a gentle breeze wafted through the dense grove of trees. The sound was a delicate foil to the distant hum of military shuffle – boots crunching on fallen leaves, low murmurs of orders, and the occasional clink of gear.
The breeze danced through the branches, causing a few leaves to break free and spiral downward. It carried with it the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying foliage, a reminder of the season’s relentless march.
As the 2nd Infantry Battalion converged at the rendezvous and began to settle under the trees, the tension of the field exercise seemed to ease. The evening breeze softened the edges of the soldiers’ focus, as if nature itself were offering a brief relief.
I was commander of the 3rd Infantry Platoon for the final field exercise during a military course in the hilly outskirts of Kabwe town in 2018, and our cooks had just signaled for us to collect our meals. I had not eaten all day, and I was thirsty as a cactus in the Sahara. After a full day of rolling on stony grounds armoured with prickly half burned grass, walking miles upon miles without rest, I could not wait to put something in my rumbling belly. I had never felt so tired and fatigued.
One after the other, the soldiers from my platoon lined up and got their meals, and being the ranking officer, I patiently waited ’til everyone had got their share.
I got up and gently strolled to the serving table. It was a highly cherished moment in every soldier’s life to be graced with the privilege of a filling warm meal after the physical and mental stress tolled by a field exercise. The rationing was strict and perfectly apportioned to feed the platoons by the book and without excess, so no one could afford to waste anything.
As I picked up my share, I shared a few pleasantries with the cooks and started to walk back to my spot under the trees. It was 8pm, and the darkening night made it hard to see clearly. I never liked wearing my glasses at night, and I figured moving such a short distance wouldn’t be a problem. I decided to take the path behind a group of soldiers leaning against an old tree stump a few meters away from where I had passed before. As misfortune would have it, in my haste, unable to see the little twig in my path, I tripped and fell forward with a copious part of my face smooching
the ground! The evening dew had made the ground damp and slippery, denying me any chance of saving my only meal for the day.
I tried to get up quickly, striving to cover up the embarrassing incident, but it was too late. One of the soldiers had spotted the drama and surreptitiously nudged his friends to participate in the spectacle of their commander donating his golden meal to the ancestors. Their attempts at pretending not to watch were futile, and as I dusted myself off and took the walk of shame, I could hear some poorly suppressed laughs and giggles behind me. Sadly, I couldn’t go back for another plate, so as a commander I shook myself and squared my shoulders, pushed my chest out with measured dignity, and disappeared into the night like a champ!
