Lightweight packing seemed the order of the day.
All essential items packed for the trip,
Or so I thought.
However, on arrival at the station, all clothing was in a single bundle,
Fellow travelers hurriedly sorted their belongings from mine.
I left them alone, only asking if they could find my camouflage top and bottom,
As my first meeting required my presence as a General.
(My job, as it turned out.)
The pile they left had all the clothes which were mine,
Except the camouflage pants and shirt,
Which had been moved to a lower shelf,
Assumptions being made they were not mine.
Even so, I could not wear them,
As it turned out they were a civilian brand,
Either way branding me as a fake on the outside.
Or the inside.
The Monastery Within 
