tim's experiment

As I stand at the back of the weekend’s parade, warbling on my pipe at the appropriate moments, there is time to contemplate some of the things that Hong Kong youth groups have in common. One is that they all wear some variation on the beret. Another, which may be connected with the first, is that on sunny days from my perch at the back of the parade I see a steady stream of casualties being fished out to be revived in the shade. Standing still in hot sunshine on what is basically a large piece of baked concrete is hard. On particularly hot days it is not unknown for the band to retire surreptitiously to the shade of a nearby tree, if there is one, during parts of the proceedings which do not require music. This option is not available to the paraders themselves.

This raises the question why so many organisations, all of which teach at least some First Aid, insist on their young members standing out in all weathers in a totally unsuitable piece of headgear. It is not as if the beret had some great tradition going for it. Until the 1920s the standard military hat was a cap with a peak, of the kind still worn by officers. In the trenches this was replaced by some form of steel helmet. Earlier hat models designed to make the wearer look taller survive in band uniforms and the Brigade of Guards.  In the 1920s the Royal Tank Regiment decided that peaked caps were not practical for people climbing in and out of armoured vehicles. The legend has it that they adapted the beret warn by French mountain troops, but the sordid truth is that their version is most like the ones worn at the time by schoolgirls.

Be that as it may the beret then gradually spread to other units which saw themselveds as needing to dive through narrow hatches in a hurry, notably parachute units, marines and special forces.  It reached youth groups in the 50s when I was a Scout, though my group was of such antiquity that we were allowed to keep the traditional Mounted Police type of thing which the Founder always seems to be wearing in photographs.  Compared with our wide-brimmed thing the beret clearly had some practical points going for it, even if you were not going to drive a tank. It could be rolled up, folded, crumpled or sat on with impunity. You could put it in a large pocket or under the shoulder tab on your uniform shirt. It was washable.

These are no doubt still good points. On the other hand as a practical hat the beret has nothing going for it at all. If rained on it turns into a soggy rag. In sunshine it offers no useful protection whatsoever. It sits unhappily on most ladies’ hairstyles. It is really unsuitable for open air use in Hong Kong and one cannot help noticing on many of these occasions that the adults are all wearing something more practical.

It is not as if there were no alternatives. The Australian International School, which clearly did some careful research on this topic, offers its inmates a choice of two. One is a sort of bush hat, distantly related to the ones which Australians hang corks on. The other is a simple version of the kepi, as worn by the French Foreign Legion, with a peak at the front to shade the face and a little curtain at the back to protect the neck. If these are too exotic, many military units now wear a camo version of what used to be known in its rowing model as a floppy. This has a soft shapeless dome and a two-inch brim all the way round. Like the beret it can be stuffed in a pocket. Or if the worst comes to the worst an ordinary peaked cap of the kind worn by baseball players would at least keep the sun off the face. The Yang Jing brewery is giving away a very nice version to its customers at the moment, though that is not perhaps the ideal sponsor for a youth group.

But I write these words with no expectation of seeing anything change. The youth groups copy the Police and the Police copy the SAS. Boys will be boys.