Short haircuts for Cybersecurity by thadeusz

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This story is inspired by an initial situation created by Storyteller in his excellent "This is the color of the army, Sir". The situation described by Storyteller, and more specifically two sentences thereof, provoked for me a whole train of thoughts.
The present story is the result of all these thoughts.
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My name is Mark Watson and I am a British citizen. There were three of us at home: my father Andrew Watson, my mother Ellen and me, young Mark. My father had a good job and my mother took care of all of us. I was simply a young boy starting to go to school. We lived in a small but nice house bought by my father.

Sadly enough, my father died of a heart attack in three days while I was still a young kid aged 5. My mother did everything she could to replace him as well affectionately as financially. Luckily my father had taken a life insurance which enabled Mother to complete the payment of our small house, but she had to work hard to get enough money to provide for both of us. She worked as a cleaning lady and did not like it, but I was never able to notice it: I lead a normal and satisfactory life for a young boy.

When I was about to turn 15, at the end of the summer vacation, Mother told me that I really needed to go to a barber. I biked to a new barber who looked cheaper. This man, Joseph Brady, looked as if he had turned 60 and deserved to be a retired barber. He started by placing a green cape over me. I stupidly said:
"The cape is the color of the Army" since that olive green is indeed the color of our Army. I just wanted to be polite, but the barber replied:
"Yes, you like it."
In fact, I hated the Army. I did not react but the barber considered that what he had said was a fact and said:
"I know how you want the cut."
In fact I simply wanted to have a small trimming, just to have my hair slightly shorter before going back to school. But the barber did not ask me what I wanted: he was convinced that he knew what I had in mind. He had something different in mind and I was so engrossed with a personal problem that I did not realize it.

In fact I was silently thinking about Jeffrey Peavy. This man was a soldier in the British Army, a Lance Corporal. LCPL Peavy, as he wanted me to call him, was divorced and had two sons : Tim and Nolan, twins aged 12. Peavy and the twins had been abandoned by his wife who got a divorce for reasons I ignore. Peavy was also in love with Mother and started to take too big a place in our life: he was more or less taking my father’s place. I did not really hate the Army, I hated one soldier ! And I had good reasons to feel like that.

Suddenly I realized that the barber was done and that he had given me a rather military haircut. He looked rather pleased with his work and said:
"Now everybody will know that you are an army boy. Come back next week to keep your haircut in good shape."


I looked in the mirror and I saw a boy which I did not recognize at first. But, it was me ! I really looked like an Army chap. My hair was now very short on the sides and in my neck, the barber had only left stubbles there. On the top of my head, it was not only very short but completely straight. In a way, I looked like Peavy, the man I hated because he was slowly taking my father’s place. But simultaneously, I must admit that I liked my new haircut. I was simply anxious about my classmates' reactions.

At home, there was no reaction from Mother and I carefully avoided meeting Peavy. Strangely enough, everything went well at school. My friends did not make any comment, contrary to what I was afraid they would do or say. There was one exception: Peter Robins, my best friend, who was in the ACF, the Army Cadet Force. My friend kindly suggested that I should join and go with him, but I refused.

After one week, I went back to "my" barber. This man, Joseph Brady, told me that I looked really good with a military haircut. He added that it would be wonderful for me to be a soldier. I replied, since we were really chatting now, that I definitely did not want to join the Army: I explained that I wanted to keep my freedom and also to study Sciences, more precisely Informatics.

That’s when Joseph Brady, still trimming my hair, suggested also that I should give a try to the Army Cadet Force. At first, I refused, but after a lot of teasing by my friend Peter Robins and several incitations by my barber, who was now more like a father figure, I accepted.

I applied to the nearest ACF Detachment and I was accepted. I received as an arrival present a nice set of uniforms: green trousers, olive green t-shirt, green jersey and green vest. The socks are also in green wool and the boots were heavy, but not too heavy. They were comfortable and black. On top of this I got a black beret and instructions on how to wear it.

In fact, it was the first time I was wearing trousers and not shorts. I suddenly had the impression that I was now much older and Mother, who saw the transformation, found a little bit of money to get me a nice pair of trousers and two pairs of jeans. I felt great !

I was also pleased with the activities I had in my cadet unit: we met every Tuesday and Thursday evening for a few pseudo military exercises. We also met on Saturdays. In fact we were doing scout-like activities, except that our uniform was inspired by the Army uniforms and that we had to salute and march like little little soldiers. We had great moments of fun ! Of course, I kept going to "my" barber every week. The barber, Mister Brady, didn’t let me pay any more: he also wanted me to call him Joseph, or even better "Joe".

During the Christmas Holidays, there was an 8-day Cadets Camp. This was the first time I stayed out of my home and out of my family. We had a very smart leader: an active duty Army Sergeant, SGT Parton. In fact I realized later that he was an excellent recruiter. He looked at each cadet and evaluated us. He suggested to 4 of us (one girl, Myra, and 3 boys among whom I was, Cadet Mark, but also two of my friends: Cadet Andrew and Cadet CPL Robert who was the eldest of us and the lover of Myra) to continue our studies in the Army Cadet Foundation in Harrogate. SGT Parton explained that it would be for free, that we would have a pay and that this would enable us to get a good job at the end of our studies. But this smart recruiter did not explain which job we would have.

Robert said that he wanted to become an MD and asked if this would be possible. SGT Parton replied that this was indeed a possibility, provided he got his A levels before starting the program described by the SGT. Myra, who was in love with Robert, said that she wanted to become a nurse and Andrew explained that he wanted to become a teacher. All these were good and serious possibilities according to the SGT.

I told him that I wanted to work in computer sciences, which was really a good possibility according to this slicky and clever recruiter. So I asked if this meant that I would have to enlist in the Army, but SGT Parton replied that I would indeed have to enlist but that I would be able to quit whenever I wanted as long as I was not paid as a full soldier.

After the end of our camp, I discussed the SGT proposal with my barber, the good Mister Brady. He told me:
"My boy, I think this would be great. You have a good head for an Army Man and you could study further without costing anything to your poor mother who works so hard to raise you."
This made me think a lot. I then discussed it with my mother.
Mother realized immediately that she would have nothing more to pay for my education. She immediately gave her agreement without inquiring about the type of job I would have in the end.

My three other friends were interested but they had to discuss this possibility with their parents since they would have enlist in a special way and this form of enlistment required a parental agreement.

When our Christmas camp ended Myra was interested but her parents didn’t give their agreement. Andrew was also interested but he was rejected during the medical exam. Robert was accepted during this medical exam and he had his parents’ agreement. But he was one year older than me. He had just taken his GCSE exams, with success. He was now ready to start the courses leading to A levels and then go to University.

I also had favorable results during the medical exams. I was only starting the courses leading to the GCSE subjects and I hoped to get satisfactory marks in order to continue towards A levels and then university where I still wanted to study computer sciences.

Robert and I asked the recruiter if we would be able to get our A levels at the ACF. The slicked recruiter answered that we would have excellent courses, but not more. Robert was anxious and decided to defer his enlistment until he had his A levels. I remained alone and I was no longer sure that I wanted to go to the AFC, but Mother told me that a strict military training would be good for me. Anyway, she said :
"You can first get your GCSE levels and at the end of the school year go to AFC."

I first asked my recruiter for advice, but this sergeant repeated:
"Just come, you should try it. If you don’t like it, you can always resign from the AFC."

I discussed all that with Joseph Brady, my kind barber, while he was trying to transform my severe haircut into a glorious High and Tight. Joe had his own idea:
"The Army will be good for you. They will train you but also discipline you. You will be a better man after serving a certain time in the Army."
"But what about my studies, Joe ?"
"Yes, you have a point there. But you could study later. Didn’t the recruiter promise you good study sessions ?"
"Yes, but no A levels."
"Well. Anyway, you must take one thing in account: your mother is poor and is working very hard, too hard to let you go to University, even if you have all possible A levels. So after this year, you will have to go and work anyway."

That was the final element that convinced me. I sent a letter to the recruiter who told me that it was now "as if I was already accepted."

A few days later, I received a letter telling me that since I was already an Army Cadet and since my "medical exam" was perfect, I had to come to Harrogate in order to be incorporated in the AFC Harrogate as a Junior Soldier. This letter also mentioned that I was now part of the March intake and, should I be late or decide not to go, it would be considered as a breach in my enlistment.

It was thus impossible for me to complete my school year and get all my GCSE credits. I discussed this problem with Joe and he convinced me to go straight to the AFC in Harrogate in order not to lose the positive acceptance I had already received. On the contrary, Robert was only called for the July intake and was rather pleased with that : he had the possibility to study for his A levels !

In the acceptance letter, it was specified that I had to arrive "before noon" and that I had to wear for that occasion a "dark suit with a classical shirt and a tie". My mother bought for me a cheap, but acceptable suit and a gray tie. I already had the rest. The day before I left, Joe had given me his best High and Tight haircut, warning me that the next day I would get an induction haircut.

In order to arrive on time, I left Exeter, my town, during the night and went by train, alone. I was alone during that trip, my first long trip. I was leaving home, possibly forever.

As soon as I arrived at Harrogate, I was pre-processed: I had to give my name and sign a big register. I was thus considered as enrolled. I was no longer a civilian but a recruit, well a Junior Soldier: with one single signature I had abandoned my previous status to become Junior Soldier Watson. And that made me rather proud, despite the fact that I was alone. My new comrades had been accompanied by their parents who had to leave them as soon as we were in our first uniform: a sports uniform, long trousers and vest with long sleeves.

It is in this attire that I completed my entrance in the military world by taking the solemn oath to the Queen !

We then received the remaining part of our uniform: a very usual Private uniform. There was only one sad point: we did not receive our berets yet, we had to use a military jungle hat to protect our hair. But this did not last very long: after receiving our uniforms, covered with our jungle hats, we all went to the AFC Barber. This was compulsory for all the boys, even those like me who had a very short haircut. It was optional for the girls and NONE of them adopted our very short haircut. I was disappointed by this femenine attitude.

I received an induction haircut. The barber was not a brute, but he acted rapidly since we were numerous. In less than 5 minutes, my head had been shorn to the woods by a soldier who pushed it in all possible directions. At the end, when he told me to clean the floor of the mess my hair had created, he added:
"It was a pity to have to shave your head this way, you had a nice military haircut. Next time, come back to me and I am going to rebuild it. Come back within two weeks."

We were led to our rooms: we slept by groups of 20 Junior Soldiers, all of the same sex. We lived in a long room with 20 beds without real intimacy. The room was in fact divided by panels creating cubicles with an open front. There was a window without a curtain (but I was used to that) for each cubicle. When the Junior Soldier was facing the window, he had on his right a bunk serving as bed and on his left a small desk and a tiny cupboard. And that was from now on the universe I had chosen to live in ! Well, I didn't really expect that: at home I had a big room, but I was ready to try it here in order to be allowed to wear the uniform.

A last detail: we all had to abandon our phones. We were told there would be "phone available" short periods every evening.

The lack of intimacy created only one problem: I was very uneasy to have to be naked in front of 19 other boys. But I was now wearing a real soldier uniform, no longer the pseudo uniform I had been wearing as a cadet and that was a sort of compensation.

The next day, I was told that I would be trained, like the rest of my group, to become an infantryman. This is really not what I expected and I decided to try to correct this. When I asked my Corporal about this "mistake", he told me:
"Whatever your recruiter told you was not binding. We have your test results and you are more adapted as a future infantry man. You might later ask to be sent to another Army school, but now you must obey my orders. In any case, I will mention your request to the Colonel."

The first week was devoted to basic military training: marching in step, standing at attention, saluting, making the proper right, left or about turns, etc. Eating very fast and keeping the mess clean was another attitude we learned. In fact, those of us who did not learn it ended up … being hungry for lack of time to swallow their food. It is only during the second week that we started to have more real military activities, like carrying weapons in the proper way and learning to shoot. Training for parades took a lot of time, cleaning and ironing our clothes also. An enormous amount of time was devoted to cleaning and polishing our shoes. Honestly, I did not imagine the Army like that.

At the end of the second week, I went back to the AFC Barber. I could read his name on his nametag (each of us had one now, with our matricule number on it). The Barber was CPL B. Acton. He started by caping me with a green cloth: we were in the Army and the Barber used the color of the Army, like my dear Barber Joe Brady. My new Barber (barber by obligation and not by choice) asked me:
"When you came for the first time, you had a great High and Tight, who gave you that haircut ?"
"My barber in my hometown, CORPORAL."
"Yes, but what’s his name, Private ?"
It was the first time somebody called me "Private" without shouting like our CPL who often called us "stupid Junior Soldiers" and that made me feel good. I replied politely:
"His name is Joseph Brady, but I call him Joe, CORPORAL."
"I guess he is a retired Army Barber !"
"Yes, CORPORAL. I think he was a Corporal like you."
"No, Private Watson, he was a Staff Sergeant. It is him who taught how to become a military barber. A great man. Do you like him ?"
"Yes, CORPORAL. He is the man who convinced me to come to this place. Since my father is dead, Staff Sergeant Brady took more or less his place in my life."
"Well, Watson, you should continue to keep him as an example of an excellent Soldier."
The Barber had said all that while shearing my hair on the sides: the sides were now nearly completely white, and during our short conversation he had done his job rapidly by pushing and turning my head in different positions as if it was his object. I must say here that he did not do it brutally nor nastily, but he did it very rapidly. He now started with the top of my head: contrary to the sides, he did not use his clippers. He only used his scissors and I could see in a mirror that he was trying to cut my hair in order to keep my haircut neat while preparing my haircut to become something really horizontal on the top of my head. He finished this haircut by defining clear and neat lines for the top of the "white sides" part and the start of the top of the head. He then took small clippers to clean the ears and … my nascent mustache which according to him was not very well shaved. This was to be expected: I had not yet started to shave my face since I was barely 16.

When I was back in our dorm, some of my comrades admired my new haircut and concluded that it had probably taken the barber lots of time to start creating (in fact re-creating) this High and Tight. So some asked me if I had been compelled to pay double the price (we had to pay for our regular haircuts). I replied that I simply paid the normal price as asked by the CPL Barber. In fact, CPL Acton, the barber, had told me at the end of the operation:
"This haircut would be too expensive for a young Junior Soldier. I offer it to you, as a present to my teacher, Staff Sergeant Brady. Come back to me in two weeks, but make sure that it will be me who will cut your hair."

During the following weeks, we kept training to become good infantrymen and I wondered why I still had no answer about my request to have the possibility to learn more about computer science.

At the end of these two weeks two important events occured. First I went back to CPL Acton to have my hair trimmed and he did it perfectly, still refusing to be paid "in honor of Joe Brady". I mentioned, without afterthoughts, my desire to study computer sciences. I also said during this haircut that the recruiter had promised that it would be possible in the AFC to start studying computer sciences. I added that I did not like being trained as an infantryman only. I simply told my new barber that I hoped the change in study mode would occur soon.

Another important moment was the instant when we received our berets. As of this instant, with my beret, I felt that I looked like a real soldier. This was confirmed by our CPL who told us that we could spend the Saturday afternoon, until 8pm, in town. We could have some money from our pay for our promenade in the town or … in one of the cinemas. The only limits were the limit of the town itself. Our CPL even said in a crude way:
"Junior Soldiers, be careful where you go. Bars are out of bounds for those who are not 18 yet (that meant everybody) but brothels are not (I had never been to such a place).

It was the first time in my life that I could go to the cinema and view a film because I had chosen it, not my mother. The first time I was going to pay with my own money and while I was in a real Army uniform. I felt big, I felt adult ! I felt well !!! Of course we had to give our berets back as soon as we were back: that implied that we had to put our jungle hats on again !

On Sunday we had work to do in the regiment: cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning. There was also a religious service. Attendance was not compulsory but expected: like all the other Junior Soldiers of my room, I decided to attend. On Monday the routine started again: training to become a good infantryman. This was certainly not what I had dreamed of, but it was acceptable. Life became more joyful for me, but not for all the Junior Soldiers of my room.

Another JS, Peter Warren, decided to resign as early as the 8th week: he simply asked the Colonel report and told him that he could no longer bear to be in uniform, he could no longer accept the orders of our CPL. He was released from duty without hesitation and left the AFC in civvies after giving back all pieces of his uniform.

This reminded me of the possibility to resign mentioned by the recruiter. I thought a lot about it since I did not have the opportunity to learn more about computer sciences. I phoned my usual barber, Joe, who was really a surrogate father for me, but Joe convinced me to stay at least until the beret parade.

I also mentioned this to CPL Acton, my AFC barber, during one of my AFC compulsory haircuts but this barber did not seem to react. In any case, I decided to stay until the next parade.

After 14 weeks of hard work, we received our berets and we had our first public parade. We had worked hard and the parade went well. After that, we had a one week leave. Most parents were present, they admired the new skills of their child and after the parade, they took their son or daughter with them to their home for the leave. My Mother did not come. She had told me that it would be too far, that anyway she had to work and that such a trip would be too expensive for her. I was thus proud but very lonely.

I chose to go alone, by train and in uniform: I liked it that way. I felt bigger and older. I think I had started to love my new status even if I was now "sentenced" to become an infantryman forever. What made me super proud was the fact that I could pay my train ticket with my new bank card and that I had now a reduced price since I was a soldier. The trip was long and I reached my former home only late in the day, but in time for supper.

When I arrived home, nobody was really expecting me despite my warnings to my Mother. That’s when I learned that my Mother was now remarried with LCPL Peavy who brought his two sons (twins, Tim and Nolan) with him. For lack of space, these two boys had taken my former room. All my former belongings had been sold for lack of space. I liked these souvenirs of my former life since they included objects coming from my father.

LCPL Peavy told me:
"We have no bed for you, but you are a soldier now. As a good soldier you can sleep on the carpet: in the future you will often have to do something like that."
Peavy also required me to salute him and to address him as a PVTE must address a Lance Corporal.

It was soon dinner time: my mother had not prepared something special to celebrate my first leave. In any case, Peavy told me that the table was too small for a fifth person. One of us had to eat in the kitchen and Peavy, rubbing it in knowingly or not, told me:
"Mark, you are only a PVTE, so you must go and eat alone in the kitchen."
I wanted to ask why he could not send his two sons, but I decided that it would be wiser to do as he said. I felt very bad.

I did not spend the night on the carpet, but I slept as well as I could on the couch. In fact, I spent part of my night crying. The next morning I left and I paid a visit to my friend Joe the barber. I told him that I knew he was a retired Staff Sergeant and I saluted him as required by my present status: I was still in uniform. Joe told me that a SGT life could be very comfortable, but I had to confess that because of my early departure for the AFC Harrogate, I had not completed my school year and I did not have all the credits required for the GCSE, and this would stop me becoming a SGT. I told him that I was thinking about quitting the Army. Joe replied:
"You must rest now, I have a comfortable spare room in this house and you will be my guest as often as you want. When your leave is over, you should at least go back to the AFC and if you still want to quit, then you should resign in the appropriate way. If you really want to leave the Army, I can take you as an apprentice and teach you the trade of Barber."

I accepted his offer to take me as a guest during my leave and also to tell me what I should do when I would be back in the AFC.

At the end of my leave, I went back to the AFC. My first action was to clean and iron my uniform: I wanted it to be "nickel clean" for an interview with the Colonel. Then I asked my corporal to organize an appointment for me with the Colonel. He asked me why and I told him:
"Because I want to resign from the AFC, CORPORAL", and the last word was shouted loud and clear as we had been told to do.
"But why, Private Watson ?"
"Because I came here with the promise that I could learn to become a computer specialist and now I realize that I will only be trained to become an infantryman, CORPORAL."
"In that case I will organize something for you, but in the meantime keep training normally."

Two days later, the Corporal told me that I had to be at 14:00 in front of the Colonel’s office and to knock on his door. I behaved as ordered, after having once again cleaned and ironed my uniform. I heard a voice saying: "Come in."
I entered the Colonel’s office and I saluted as I had learned to do, taking the position of attention and putting in one move my beret in my pocket. The Colonel looked at me, turned around me as if he wanted to check all the details of my uniform and said:
"What do you want, Junior Soldier Watson ?"
"Sir, this Private would like to resign and go back to civilian life, Sir."
"No need to repeat the ‘Sir’, Private. Anyway, it is too late to do that easily. You should have said so before your first leave. Now you are in the Army books as a full Private and, in principle, you must stay at least for four years after graduating from the AFC."
For me this sounded like a catastrophe. I remained silent and after a while the Colonel looked at me and asked:
"You don’t like military life, Private ?"
"No Colonel, I like this well regulated life. But I don’t like being trained to serve as an infantryman, Sir."
"So why did you come to the AFC, Watson ?"
"Sir, a recruiter told me that I could learn to become a specialist in computer sciences. This is exactly what I hoped for in civilian life, but it was too expensive for my mother."
"Is this what you expected to get here, being trained as a computer specialist ?"
"Yes Sir"
"Well, your Corporal told me that you are his best Junior Soldier and I want to keep you in the Army, so I made a short check. It is a fact that you mentioned ‘computer sciences’ very early and that your Corporal did not let you do it: he had been instructed to train you otherwise. It is a fact that your recruiter made false promises. But it is also a fact that one of our Barbers spoke in your favor. It is also a fact that I received a letter during your leave. This letter was sent by a retired Staff Sergeant who was highly respected during his years in the Army. He said that it would be good to let you move from Infantryman to something where you could work on computers. I thus decided to suggest this: you will stay in the Army, in the AFC. Next intake will only stay here for 23 weeks in order to get familiarized with military orders. These Junior Soldiers will then have a long by a long training in their regiment. That’s when your computer training can start. You will thus move to their group as soon as they arrive here, start everything all over and then, after 23 weeks, you will be sent to an Electronic Engineer unit where you will serve from then on. I think that this will be good for you and for the Army. Especially after reading all the personal comments Staff Sergeant Brady added to his letter. DISMISS now, Private."

I saluted once again, made an about turn and left the Colonel’s office, my head was in turmoil. When I reached my unit, my Corporal was there and asked me:
"Do you like your new situation Private ?"
"YES CORPORAL. It is a great situation now."
"And you don’t mind anymore having to be 24/24 in uniform ?"
"NO CORPORAL, in fact as I just told the Colonel, I like this well regulated life."
"In that case your resignation is a closed matter. Get ready for further training as long as you are with me."

From this day on, I behaved as well as I could. Moreover, I was pleased every morning to put on my Army uniform knowing that I would shortly start learning what I really liked.

I had one more leave with my first group and after that I was moved to a new group of Junior Soldiers, some with lots of A levels, most of them with all the required GCSE credits. My former friend Robert was with them: he did not succeed to gain all the A levels he needed and was now training to become an Army nurse.

The Colonel gave me books to study in order to get ready for special exams and also get the GCSE credits I needed ! It was not easy to keep training with the others and study separately after that, but I did it. I spent all my leaves at Barber Joe’s place and I was happy.

After graduation from the AFC and from the Technical Unit where I had had my additional training, I was sent to a computer unit in Oxford. I liked this. Nevertheless, I could not forget the way LCPL Peavy had treated me and the way he had stolen my room for his sons. My character started to become simultaneously happy because I really liked what I was doing and very sour because of the way Peavy (and my mother) had treated me.

During all the months I spent in the AFC, I never missed my by-weekly appointments with the barber who kept "cultivating" my High and Tight. When I was assigned to a unit near Oxford, my first move was to find a comfortable place to live. That was easy: I was offered a single (and very small) room in the barracks. It was in any case much better than my former dorm. I also searched for a barber. I didn't really want an Army barber, but the others were too expensive for my small budget. So I relied on an Army barber recommended by my direct superior. The problem was that this Army barber started by letting his clippers go just in the middle of my head, completely destroying my nice High and Tight. I had to accept for this time a plain induction cut !

I soon realized that my main function in this unit was to serve tea or coffee to the already certified computer specialists working there. Another of my functions was to plug and unplug machines according to the orders given to me, for no specified reason, by these specialists. On top of that I had to clean each of the 14 computers and 7 printers, and other material, every night. I did not consider that I was doing the job of a computer specialist, nor that I was learning to do such a job. It is probably then that my heart turned very sour. Whatever the recruiter had promised me was false and I had the impression that I would never progress.

One day, while I was serving tea to a SGT specialized in computer crime, I noticed a problem in his work. I told this SGT that he was doing something very risky and that it might result in a great security problem. The SGT took his cup of tea and asked me to explain what I meant. He was ready to punish the "boy" who wanted to play in the big bosses' field. I carefully explained what I had noticed and the SGT realized that I made him avoid a costly mistake.

The day after that, I was lengthily questioned by my Captain who decided to place me in an atmosphere favorable for further studies. I was told to study a lot while keeping doing my work as a "servant for the soldiers".

One day, after several months of hard work, I was sent to another place where I was questioned for four days by a jury of three officers and where I also had to take written tests. At the end, I was told:
"Congratulations, Private Watson, you now have the special qualities and knowledge that the Army needs for cyberdefense specialists. We consider that, for the Army, it is the equivalent of A levels in English, Math and Sciences. It has thus been decided to promote you to SGT provided you sign an additional 10 years contract. Are you ready for that, Private ?"
"YES, SIR" was my immediate answer.
"In that case, you will go back to the unit where you were until now and where … you noticed that there was a problem while serving tea. You will be officially promoted to SGT there."

I kept studying theoretical computer sciences and I specialized in cybersecurity, this is exactly what I always wanted to do. Except that I first wanted to do this in the civilian world and that I imagined that I would wear whatever I wanted and have long hair. Now, I was everyday in my strict Army uniform, first as a Private, then as a Corporal and very rapidly (more rapidly than usually) as a Sergeant. It goes without saying that I kept my rather short haircut: every Saturday, I went to a local barber who cut my hair as my AFC barber had started to do it. So I had a nice High and Tight on top of my head, the sides and back being completely deprived of any single hair, not even a stubble.
I had now all together 10 years of service, AFC included and I was 26. I was sent to a research center near Oxford and I was even promoted to Warrant Officer. There was still a sour feeling about the way I had been expelled from MY house and deprived of all the things which were in MY room.

I think I had turned very negative and unhappy about that. Probably partly because of the rigor of Army discipline.

I got a leave and went to my home in Exeter. There, I decided to be really naughty. I noticed that once again we were too numerous at the dinner table and I ordered now CPL Peavy to eat in the kitchen because he was only a lowly CPL and I was a Warrant Officer.

After lunch, I examined some of my father’s papers and I noticed that the house he had bought and that mother had paid with his insurance, was in fact mine since I was his only heir. I thus told CPL Peavy that I would require the payment of a rent for himself and his sons (who were still living in MY room). I decided that I would exempt my mother of this rent which would thus be evaluated by a lawyer.

After all these "good deeds", I left MY house, satisfied that I had been sufficiently naughty with everybody. I automatically went to my friend, the barber and slept there. I told Joe what I had done and he explained why he considered that I had behaved very badly. He reminded me that my mother was left alone, with a preadolescent child, after my father’s sudden death. She had to work hard to raise me and she deserved some joy, some pleasure in her life. I understood that: I now knew perfectly what this type of pleasure was. Joe went on and explained that when I was gone to the AFC, my mother remained alone and it was natural that she turned to a friend, even if this friend was naughty with me !

I thought about all that while trying to sleep in the little room the Barber kept for me. The next day, he had prepared a nice breakfast for me and then he asked me as a favor:
"Can I give you a last trimming, Mark. You see, I am getting old and I will close my shop and stop working now. I tried to be good for you, and when I see your uniform now, I know that I did well when I wrote to your Colonel in the AFC."

I was really moved by that and I ate the breakfast he had prepared before letting him give me the trimming he wanted to give. It was a great haircut, once again.

I went back to my small flat in Oxford and I started to think about everything my favorite Barber had told me.

After a few weeks, I met a nice girl, Nancy. We started living together: living with an Army man was not a problem for her, especially since that man, me, was not going from base to base but was only working in a research center. We decided to get married, but I did not want to invite my mother because I considered that she betrayed my father's memory.

Nancy did not agree. She explained, as Barber Joe had already started to do, why my mother had not betrayed my father’s memory and why she had not abandoned me since in any case I had chosen my own path in life. Finally, Nancy said:
"If you don’t invite your mother, I will not marry you."

Finally, all were invited to our marriage: Nancy’s parents, my mother, my enemy CPL Peavy, second husband and lover of my mother, his children and most important: Barber Joe. It was a great day and a nice mariage !

We have two children now: Charles who want the same haircut as Daddy but who does not want to join the Army and Maria who wants to go as soon as possible to the AFC, "like Daddy". What should I say, and do ?

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