BORIS JOHNSON: Would I sign up to fight for King and country? Yes, Sah! Lance Corporal Johnson reporting for duty, Sah!

Yes, Sah! Lance Corporal Johnson reporting for duty, Sah!

Let me use this column to fire off my best and sharpest salute in the direction of General Sir Patrick Sanders, the outgoing Chief of the General Staff.

Let me hold it there, hand quivering over my right eyebrow as I stamp my boot on the parade ground and present arms, because I want General Sanders to know that I have heeded his call for a new citizen army.

I saw him point his Kitcheneresque finger at the portly and apathetic form of the British public, and I was filled with a wild surmise.

Does he mean me? I asked myself. Could I do it? Would I do it? Do I still have the stuff of battle in me?

BORIS JOHNSON: Does General Sanders mean me? I asked myself. Could I do it? Would I do it? Do I still have the stuff of battle in me? Pictured: The ex-PM watches Ukrainian soldiers being trained by British Army

I certainly have the training. From the ages of about 16 to 18 I put myself through it, hour after hour, week after week, in what was then called the Combined Cadet Force.

No sooner had I posed myself the question — would I sign up to fight for King and country? — than I had the answer. Of course I jolly well would.

I certainly have the training. From the ages of about 16 to 18 I put myself through it, hour after hour, week after week, in what was then called the Combined Cadet Force.

I was not, at first, a promising recruit. I failed something called the Empire Test, which involved safely cleaning, loading and firing a Lee-Enfield .303.

I caused my platoon to spend a very wet and cold night in the open on Salisbury Plain, guarding what turned out to be the wrong pylon.

My performance on the drill ground was chaotic. My shirt wouldn’t stay tucked. My spats came off, and I more than once incurred the terrifying abuse of the regimental sergeant major, a man whose verbal brutality probably concealed a heart of gold.

He would punish us for our manifold failures by ordering us to clean the latrines, and then — before calling us to the inspection — secretly daubing the porcelain with great gobs of Sun-pat peanut butter.

What does that look like, the RSM would bawl at the horrified cadets? I tell you what it smells like, he would shriek, before leaning down to give it an extravagant sniff.

And I tell you what it tastes like, he would scream — and he would extend a forefinger to scoop a sample into his mouth, while the pathetic young would-be officers gagged and retched and I think in one case actually fainted.

Whatever they would say these days about his methods, the general level of discipline did me a power of good.

I don’t think we will have a direct military confrontation, with Russia or any other potential adversary, of a kind that would necessitate such a levée en masse

I began to enjoy it. I got the hang of the rifle, an amazingly accurate weapon, which, you may remember, British tommies fired so fast at the Battle of Mons that the Germans thought they must be machine guns. I mastered the art of polishing my toecaps, rising before dawn to go round and round with a dab of black Kiwi and water on some cotton wool, so that you really could see your face in them.

After my early strategic setback with the pylon, I got better at the exercises, the frenzied night attacks on Imber — the same deserted village on Salisbury Plain where we are currently training the citizen army of Ukraine.

So you betcha — if it really came to it, I would be there in the dugout with General Sanders, and I bet there are many readers who feel the same.

I have to confess, in all modesty, that I might not be the fittest or most agile of his recruits. In fact, I hope and believe that my services will not be called upon.

I don’t think we will have a direct military confrontation, with Russia or any other potential adversary, of a kind that would necessitate such a levée en masse. I believe that war is always a disaster, always a tragedy, and that it is perhaps the prime job of statesmanship to avert it.

I am proud that during my tenure as PM there was not a single member of the UK armed services who lost his or her life on active service.

And yet I also know that if we think that war is impossible, or that the current run of relative tranquillity will never end, then I am afraid we are deluded. History teaches us that the best way to preserve the peace is to be vigilant. The best way to deter the aggression of men such as Vladimir Putin is to be strong.

If it really came to it, I would be there in the dugout with General Sanders (pictured), and I bet there are many readers who feel the same

The best way to prevent a war is to prepare for it. Si vis pacem para bellum*.

That is why General Sanders is right in his essential point — that we must tackle the current problems in the Armed Forces, and especially of under-recruitment.

Under the programmes we set in motion, from upgrading our nuclear deterrent to the new-generation fighter aircraft, the UK is now spending much more on defence — and will hit 3 per cent of GDP by 2030. But we are somehow failing to entice young men and women to join the junior ranks, and we must ask ourselves why.

Partly, it is a function of the post-Brexit labour market, where private-sector wages are very competitive.

It may also be true that the armed services are just not in fashion — partly because of a -misunderstanding of the risks. Parents see graphic social media images of what happens in war, and panic at the idea that this might happen to their kids.

They steer them away from the armed services on the grounds — still statistically highly unlikely — that they will get hurt.

Then there is said to be a growing moral squeamishness of the kids themselves. They say that Generation Z are dubious about the ethics of the most recent conflicts in which the UK played a significant role — Iraq and Afghanistan — and do not therefore blaze with martial ardour at the thought of being engaged in the next one.

Well, maybe. But don’t forget that in 1933 the members of the Oxford Union voted that they would under no circumstances fight for King and country — and six years later most of them were doing exactly that. I bet that today’s young people are made of identical timber.

If it were to come to it, and they were called to save their country, I bet they would be found to be as bursting with the right stuff as any generation in history.

In the meantime, there are a couple of things we should do — to boost recruitment, and make any would-be aggressor think twice about tangling with Britain.

We need to end the wokery and restrictive practices — bans on some tattoos spring to mind — that may be deterring some young males from joining up, bearing in mind that this group has always been the backbone of our defence.

We could perhaps relax some of the extreme fitness requirements — acknowledging that young people these days are more heavily influenced by Colonel Sanders than General Sanders.

Above all, we should be far more positive in reminding people of the great truth — that joining the armed services is not only fun, it is a huge career advantage, whatever you do. How many times in the past few years have we had to turn to experienced military figures to sort out a logistical crisis — from the Olympics to Covid?

Dr Johnson said every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.

I don’t think any man or woman ever regrets joining up.

*Si vis pacem para bellum: If you want peace, prepare for war