The sound of the trumpet playing the fall-in call.

The sounds of NCOs calling for the Boys to hurry up and other warnings.

The sounds of metal-studed boots stampeding into the parade grounds and the whole court turning dark blue.

The sounds of a minimum of 10 counts of push-ups, sometimes 20 or 30 depending on who's the Duty NCO.

The sounds and smell of sweat and the roll call.

The sounds of me bitching the Boys of the slightest imperfection in the way they stand and their improper uniform standards.

The sounds of Boys falling out of parade and the usual commotion proceeding upstairs for praise and worship.

The sounds of fellowship, lame jokes, seriousness, cries, laughter, bullying and the things that makes a Boy spelt with a capital "B".

The sound inside my head telling me I'm home.

Then I open my eyes to see myself writting up a 3000 word essay and a lot of other life decisions to make.

Sigh.