TATTOO FACT FILE

The Rehearsal and the Edinburgh Tattoo

Two light tanks sit demurely at one end of the parade ground, facing three blue plastic chairs drawn up to a plain pine table at the other. There is not much of an audience - a scant row of civilians, and those largely Army families.

'Gentlemen, there are seven minutes to go. We shall start on time.' Hearing the Tattoo Producer's calm, authoritative voice no outsider would believe that his show still does not exist as such, even though it is to be witnessed by nine thousand spectators tomorrow on the Castle esplanade. Barely thirty hours remain before the public dress rehearsal in which to weld the countless disparate elements into a polished performance. Today we shall see the beginning of that process, the so-called 'working dress' rehearsal. The individual acts, of course, are already well practiced but only now will the production team establish whether anything is amiss with the overall design of the show. One wonders what goes through the Producer's mind in the last minutes before rehearsal.

'"What have we forgotten?" basically. Are there any unforseen problems? And is it going to run to time? We simply must not overrun, especially on Saturday when we have limited time between performances. Anyway, people have paid for an hour and a half and that's what they should get!'

The Producer takes the middle seat at the table, flanked by his Narrator (to his right) and (to his left) his Personal Assistant. Also seated, the Lord Provost of the City of Edinburgh casts an interested eye over the proceedings. Precisely at two o'clock the pipes and drums march on. Some are in civilian clothes, most in drab khaki, camouflage denim and the odd splash of tartan - 'working dress'. For this is the parade ground at Redford Cavalry Barracks in Edinburgh's south-western suburbs. Painted onto the tarmac is a full-size plan of the Castle esplanade complete to the last detail. The only thing missing is the unforgiving slope; the fourteen foot drop of the esplanade makes any parade or drill in front of the Castle a ticklish exercise. That apart, it is all here - the arena one hundred and six paces by forty three, wider at the top than the bottom, the main entrance (the 'Castle drawbridge') distinctly off centre, adding further complexity to all the formations.

At Redford Barracks all the Tattoo moves can be rehearsed precisely and in sequence. Now is the time to sharpen up the action, give the dull a final polish and perfect the dressing. Here the Arena Master comes to the fore; he is responsible for marshalling all the Tattoo's forces on the esplanade, ensuring everything flows smoothly under the lights and behind the scenes. He draws an analogy: 'In rehearsal you can tell everyone what to do, but once they march out in front of an audience . . . well, it's like pulling the pin out of a hand grenade - chuck the grenade and there's nothing you can do about it going off'

From time to time the Producer interrupts the proceedings using the Narrator's radio microphone. 'I'm afraid we must pause here for six minutes to keep the timing right. We have to be sure the dancing gives us time to get the action sequence ready to go on. I'm sorry the dancers aren't here today, by the way, ladies and gentlemen,' he tells the audience, 'but I can assure you they are very good. Why don't you come and see them at the Tattoo? It's jolly good value!'

The rattle of small arms fire and the fierce crack of heavier weapons echo around the parade ground as infantry and tanks surge into the action sequence. Their 'firefight' swiftly won, they are somewhat slower to leave the arena than they were to invade it. Come on, come on,' urges the impatient Producer. 'Move that tank, Oh! He's broken down. Well now you will see just how quickly damaged armour can be recovered from the battlefields.' 'Not very,' he finishes wryly as at last the immobilized tank is towed off.

There is further dissatisfaction with part of the show's finale; the Producer wants the segment repeated. Then confusion arises about the cue for the famous lone piper; the Narrator has already rewritten this once: he decides he must do so again.

'The lone piper is a highlight of the programme and it would be a tragedy if it went wrong. The performers do rely on the narration for many of their cues and you have to keep the action moving. That's why I have reworked a number of the links, though I hope this one for the lone piper will be the last; it's getting a bit late in the day for changes.'

The rehearsal ends with the massed pipes and drums marching off to the stirring strains of 'The Black Bear', the tune which traditionally signals the end of a Scottish regiment's working day, the job in hand successfully completed. Just how successfully in this case will be judged at the 'postmortem', the afternoon production conference, and then proved tomorrow night on the Castle esplanade, when the pipes and drums march on again, now resplendent in full uniform. They cross the drawbridge and form up on the esplanade. They look and sound magnificent - as always. The perfection of their drill is seemingly effortless. So are the steps of the highland and country dancers as they take to the arena.

When the Tattoo Dance Company was formed the slope of the esplanade was a real problem and at first all the dancers drifted downhill into a vast heaving huddle at the bottom. That is only one of many problems which have been painstakingly solved so that the nine thousand rapt spectators thronging the stands tonight will never even think about them. Moreover they will almost certainly remain unaware of the special effect which failed this evening; of the Producer's chagrin at a 'quick march!' given two or three seconds late; of the drill movement made minutely ragged because fireworks prevented some soldiers from hearing their cue.

'To be honest, I expected a lot more errors,' the Arena Master admitted after the dress rehearsal. 'Minor ones, of course. In this sort of exercise the big things usually look after themselves. There were only some small points; did you see the Colour Guard marching off? They needed to hear the bands' drum roll to cue them, and of course they couldn't because of the fireworks so that was a bit tatty. But that's why you need rehearsals. It'll be fine from now on.' And he confided: 'This is my first Tattoo as Arena Master, and all in all it's a great show. You know, I've done this job for the Royal Tournament at Earl's Court, and the Edinburgh Tattoo just leaves that standing for spectacle and sheer atmosphere - and of course we have this terrific feeling of Scottishness here.

The Tattoo Regimental Sergeant Major, right hand man to the Arena Master, agreed there were only minor bumps to iron out.

'Practice makes perfect, and the show just needs a little polish,' he said. But asked to give the dress rehearsal marks out of a hundred, he frowned; R.S.M.s are notoriously hard to satisfy. Nevertheless there was the hint of a twinkle in his eye as he said 'I'd give it a good sixty!' Clearly the departing crowd is already awarding the latest Edinburgh Military Tattoo far higher points than that - and needless to say, from tonight onwards it will be even better.