Hats off to my bro'

My brother was an army conscript in the South African Defence Force. He finished his service in 1987 without killing anyone and went onto lead a happy life. Anyway, I digress. I was at his passing out parade, and very grand it was too. There was a whole stand of important army folk facing a dirt parade ground filled with neat rows of soldiers clad in brown fatigues. There must have been at least 300 soldiers. When the final speaker had finished his bit and the propoganda ceremony was complete, the chief army fella gave one last 'Nnnnnnnntennnnnnn-SHUNN'. There was a loud thud as 300 right boots smacked the dirt, sending up a plume of dust so big that you could see it from the recently demoted planet Pluto. 'Deeeeahhhhhhh-sssssssssssmissed'. With that there was a loud cheer and 300 brown berets went flying into the air.

Now I've seen countless similar scenes on television programs and films since, and every time I have the same though: 'How did they find their own hat?'

I've recently been back to South Africa on holiday and met up with my brother. We were looking at old photographs and some were of his army days. I recalled my worry about the hats and asked him about it. He looked at me with an 'are you taking the piss' expression. I assured him that I really needed to know.

He said 'How do you think?'
I replied 'Well I've given it loads of thought over the last 21 years, and can only imagine that the berets/hats come in a few standard sizes. You just find a hat in your size and adopt it'.
'You are supposed to be the brains in the family'
'Well how did you find your hat then?'
'When we were first issued with them, we wrote our names in the lining'
'Doh'

2 decade mystery solved.