From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 50)

Personally, rank has never much concerned me. As long as I am of sufficient rank to get what I need done then I’m happy. Although, naturally, I have always insisted on being officer class. I would make a terrible member of the rank and file. I am not, and will never be, part of the general herd. This is not simple arrogance, but simple fact. I can talk cricket, even rugby if I must (though I draw the line at football), but the difference between the general populous and myself is that I can do it in more languages than they have digits. I have been gifted with an extra-ordinary brain, for which I thank my mother. From my father I inherited only my name, and I have taken pride in never using it during my career. All deference that is due to me has come by my own merit. I have been acknowledged by my peers and seniors because of my remarkable record of achievements.

Admittedly, I have also once promoted myself in the field, but it is testament to how I am viewed by the department that I was allowed to keep that rank on my return. Needless to say, I had assumed the rank not out of pride, but because I had a most insubordinate fellow with me who believed that he should be in charge. However, when I had finished beating him (in a fair fight) in front of the troops, he ever afterwards viewed me as an enemy, but obeyed my command. The latter being the important part. I left him with no more than bruises and a damaged dignity which, considering he pulled his insubordination in the field, and close to enemy lines, I considered generous on my part. I know several commanders who would have shot him there and then. However, I have always felt the taking of life to be a final resort. Besides, it would have been noisy, left us with a body, and in all likelihood have dampened moral, even if the other fellows didn’t like him very much. It’s strange how in a small group, even the most despised member becomes ‘one of us’. He may be a wilful, ignorant prig, but he’s our wilful, ignorant prig is generally the troop feeling.

As I said, I don’t much like working with groups. Far too many dynamics to take into account. I much prefer one-on-one tuition. This is where rank raises its ugly head again. If you’re such-and-such a rank, then surely you should be leading such-and-such a number of people, is what the higher-ups think. Yes, I usually retort, because leading a whole battalion of spies across enemy territory is the subtlest way to get things done.

Fortunately, I believe I am now classed as one of the higher-ups (although I have certainly considered myself to be so for some time). The privilege of rank seems to me to be primarily the privilege of not having to suffer fools - or if the fools are too foolish, being able to have them shot.

Of course, there is an army pension based on rank, but it’s not of much significance. It’s almost as if the army expects a decent soldier to die in harness - which I probably shall.