Free To Wear Sunscreen — Breda, Netherlands | August 1999
“KIBOWI Wargames”
“Ah, you must be the fire support instructor,” the sergeant major says with a booming smile.
“Uhm, not that I know, could you be a bit more specific?” I ask, taken aback by his assertion. As far as I know I’m here to talk about the role of the artillery in modern team-based combat, not to train anyone.
When my platoon commander asked me last week to give a short presentation at the Royal Military Academy in preparation for the upcoming NATO-led multinational manoeuvres, I assumed it would be quite casual and the Academy had only decided to approach my unit, the 11th Horse Artillery, instead of other artillery battalions because of the distinctive calot de campagne that is part of our daily uniform — always a photogenic hit with foreign troops.
“Well uhm, I was expecting an artillery instructor for the KIBOWI wargames,” says the sergeant major, looking puzzled now. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee in the mess and read this.” He hands me a copied, ferociously thumbed manual and continues, “I’ll make some phone calls to see if someone else is coming or if there’s been some kind of hiccup.” With these words, he disappears in an office, slamming the door a bit too loud for comfort. Feeling anxious, I follow the signs toward the NCO-mess, order a coffee and sit down to read.
“KIBOWI is a prototype wargame, developed by the Royal Netherlands Army, to be used for the training of staff officers at battalion and brigade levels,” the manual begins. As I browse through the pages, I learn that the KIBOWI program simulates the movements of infantry and cavalry units in real-time, taking into account an array of terrain features and the effects fire and air support might have on this. Instead of having thousands of troops on the move, the idea is that only the senior officers will be out in the field and relay their orders by radio, just as they would in real operational circumstances.
Back in the KIBOWI computer centre, a small team will enter this information into the system, which then simulates the execution of the orders. Manning the radios next to the computers are the company and platoon commanders of the simulated units who receive minute by minute feedback about what’s going on with their troops and then report back to the field HQ as if everything is really happening. The whole thing sounds like a lot of fun.
“Wachtmeester,” roars the voice of the sergeant major, “I just got off the phone with your battalion commander and he’s also under the impression that you were sent here as an instructor. Do you think you can handle this if I give you a quick tour and overview of the system? There’s still a couple of hours before we begin the training session.”
What!? It’s not my fault the message got jumbled up in the silly descending hierarchy of battalion-to-company-to-platoon commander to me. I’ve had quite enough stress preparing and practising my 15-minute presentation, to be delivered in NATO’s English lingua franca, and now I’m supposed to teach in English! My first instinct is to tell the sergeant major I can’t do it, but then it flashes through my mind that that’s just not me; I always face a challenge thrown at me.
My mind goes back to the time I was at business college. In my final year, I was sent to an insurance company for a work experience project. On my first day of work, the company’s director showed me around and explained what he wanted me to do during my six weeks there: “I see you’ve taken ICT classes,” he began. “If possible, I would like you to create a program that will automatically calculate and report on the depreciation of our lease cars. Can you do that?”
No, I could not! The ICT classes at the college had been extremely limited. We’d had some terminology, basic word processing and very rudimentary spreadsheet usage, nothing else. I most definitely was unable to create any kind of computer program. However, with the picture in mind of how boring the work at an insurance company might be, I heard myself say, “Of course I can.”
I was given my own office with a shiny new computer, a list of all the features my program should have and was left alone. For the first day, I just sat there, drinking far too much coffee and panicking about the situation I’d gotten myself into. The next day I went to the IT department, borrowed some books on coding and made friends with the IT manager.
Six weeks later I demonstrated a fully operational lease car depreciation program to the company’s director and other staff. I had done it! During what had probably been the most exciting six weeks of my three wasted years at the business college, I had created a computer program from scratch and everybody loved my work. The lesson learnt was simple: say yes to the unknown!
“Wachtmeester…?” the voice of the sergeant major brings me back to reality.
“Yes Sir, of course I can handle it,” I say with confidence.
P.S. After playing around with the computers for a couple of hours, I taught the ins and outs of the KIBOWI system to a group of 17 lieutenants, captains and majors of artillery battalions from Belgium, France, Germany and the United Kingdom, in English. It was a great success: always say yes to the unknown!
Baz Luhrman. Everybody’s Free To Wear Sunscreen on Something for Everybody [CD]. London, United Kingdom: EMI. (1999)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
