Button your jackets and overcoats all the way down! Stand erect, with your heels together, and your toes pointing out at an angle of sixty degrees.

Stand erect.
Throw your shoulders back, your chests out and hold your heads up.

This is called 'the position of the soldier.' Stand as I do." Corporal Brayton favored his awkward squad with a profile view of himself, as he took the exact position of a soldier.

How the anxious candidates wished they really could stand as this handsome young son of Mars did! To them it seemed impossible ever to acquire such truly military carriage.

They did not realize that, between drills, gymnasium work and the setting-up drills, they would, in a few weeks, be hard to distinguish in elegance and perfection from their present instructor.
"Not quite so much like an ostrich, Mr.Prescott!" rasped out Corporal Brayton severely.
Dick flushed painfully, all the more so because he heard one of the other candidates snicker.
"Stop that laughing, Mr.Danvers!" commanded Corporal Brayton.
Greg, in trying to get the right position, had so exaggerated it that now he found himself trembling from the strain of trying to maintain that position.
"What ails you, Mr.Holmes!" demanded Brayton, with withering scorn.
"I--I was trying to get the right position, sir," stammered Greg, reddening.
"That isn't the position of even a respectable dromedary, Mr.
Holmes," rejoined the cadet corporal crisply.
Then he poured a storm of refined abuse upon Greg.