I closely examined the Lee Enfield .303. I was more than familiar with it. I had been brought up with guns. I could strip a Lee Enfield down blindfold. I also knew how to strip down a Luger and a Webley service revolver. Both had been the handguns my dad had taken into the air with him. He had also taught me to shoot. Talking to my uncles I knew that he had been a very good shot. In fact they said that he seemed to be able to hit the enemy without even appearing to aim- a rare skill.
The hut filled with a cacophony of noise as the rest of the cadets arrived. Everyone was trying on the various bits of uniform and equipment. It was all very leisurely; a little like a school boys' outing. Suddenly Sergeant Greely's voice boomed out. "On parade outside with your rifles now!"
I heard one voice say, "I shan't be long, I just…"
The unfortunate cadet got no further, "If you aren't out of here by the time I count to five then you will get my size nine right up your delicate little arse, my son!"
Everyone scurried out like woodlice when a plant pot is moved.
I knew marching and I knew attention. I stood with my feet slightly apart with my rifle butt touching my right foot. I had an impassive face. I knew you didn't smile. It invited punishment. I risked a glance down the line. The ones who had just erupted from the wooden hut were hurriedly dressing and their end of the line was a little wavy. I saw Professor Carrick and his wry smile. He caught my eye and winked. It was reassuring.
Sergeant Greely shouted, "Atten……shun!" I snapped my feet together and kept my rifle straight. Some of the others managed to do the same. The far end of the line, however, had failed to do so and Sergeant Greely leapt down to that end. "You are a shambles! You are a shower! I have seen Girl Guides with more about them! You, feet together! Back straight! Keep that bloody rifle straight too!"
He strode down the line glaring at everyone. He reached me and gave the slightest of nods before going to stand in front of Professor Carrick. The sergeant smacked his swagger stick into the palm of his left hand as he punctuated each of his sentences. "This was not a good start, gentlemen. There are only two of you who managed to stow their clothes correctly. When Captain Carrick has finished with you then you will go back in and make yours look like Mr Harsker's and Mr White's! That is how you leave your equipment. We have two months to make you into what might, in the fullness of time, become British Officers. From what I have seen this morning that is, with one or two exceptions, a vain hope!" He glared at the ones at the far end of the line. "Captain Carrick, sir!"
"Right chaps, the sergeant was right. This has not been a good start. I expect you all here tomorrow morning at seven a.m. No excuses. If you have a skinful then you deal with it. My advice would be not to have a skinful but you are all men now and you make your own decisions. We will begin this morning with some marching. Then we will have a full five mile run with all your equipment, including your rifle before we finish, just before lunch, with a session at the rifle range."
The marching proved to be less of a disaster than I had imagined. The sergeants cleverly put those of us who had stood to attention best, at the front. It meant the rest could follow us. We had an hour of drilling up and down. None of it was hard but some of those at the back received blows when they mixed up their left from their right. The five mile run proved more challenging for some. I enjoyed running. Some of them did not. It was not helped by the fact that we ran through the streets around Oxford Road. There were many children on the streets and they took great delight in running next to us and mocking us. The sergeants all seemed to enjoy our humiliation. I saw some of the cadets flushing and it was not with the effort of running it was embarrassment.
Captain Carrick awaited us at the firing range. While we took off our packs and tried to regain our breath Sergeant Harrison stepped forward. He held up the Lee Enfield. "Now I know that you will all be officers and that this rifle will be beneath you but you will learn to fire it and fire it well. You will learn to strip it down and reassemble it. You will, by the time we have finished with you, be able to fire five rapid rounds and hit the target with every shot! You should be able to do what the men you will command do."
He took us through the component parts and then Sergeant Williams issued us with our ammunition. It was not a large firing range and it could only accommodate five rifles at a time. I was selected to be in the first five. I lay down and licked my finger to sharpen the sight.
"Whenever you gentlemen are ready. We will try five rapid shots just so that you can get the feel for the weapon and so that we can assess your abilities. Shout 'clear' when you have emptied your magazine."
I squeezed off my five shots. "Clear!"
It seemed an age before the other four shouted 'clear'. I heard a snort of derision from behind me and recognised Robert Hughes-Graham's voice. "Damned fool fired too fast. I bet he hasn't hit the target once."
"Quiet in the ranks!"
The targets were on a pulley system, "Right gentlemen, retrieve your targets and let us see the damage."
As mine came towards me I could see that all five had found the target. Three had made the inner but two were in the outer. I frowned. From the grouping the rifle pulled a little to the right. I would have to correct that. Sergeant Harrison said, "If you will give me that Mr Harsker." He went along the line collecting the others. One by one he held them up. "Two hit the target, just. Two in the outer, not bad. Three hit the target. Three hit the target one inner, well done." He dropped them to the ground and held mine in both hands. "Mr Harsker, on the other hand, not only hit the target with every shot; he even managed to get two inners. He has achieved his target on the first day. Well done Mr Harsker. The sights look to be off."
"Yes Sergeant, it pulls to the right."
After a short break for lunch we repeated the morning's activities again. By the end of the run I began to realise that I was fitter than most of the others. It came as a surprise to me for I hadn't thought that I had done anything special to prepare. We picked up our clothes and headed back for our dormitories. One or two of the lads had quite warmed to me but I could feel the daggers in my back from the General's son and his cronies. There were just six baths and we all had to queue. I didn't mind for I took the opportunity to write a letter to dad and another one to mum. Both would be interested in the presence, at the University, of Captain Carrick. It certainly made me feel better. I also mentioned, to dad, about Sergeant Harrison. I knew from John that dad had seen his own brother die. He would never talk about it. Perhaps he would have solace from the knowledge that his brother had been held in high regard too.
When I had finished I was able to enjoy a bath; however the chap who had used it before me had shaved and he had not removed the hairs from the bath. I had to clean it out before I could fill it. The result was that I was one of the last to reach the dining hall. Captain Carrick was seated at the head of the table and, this time, a place had been left for me next to him. I didn't know if that was his choice or the fact that none of my fellows wished to sit so close to him. I didn't mind and I enjoyed a pleasant dinner. It seemed that I had impressed the sergeants not only with my marksmanship but also my general demeanour and attitude.
"You see, Tom, all of those sergeants were like your father, they began in the ranks. Some of the officers they served under weren't very good. They are keen to make better officers for the next war; whenever that comes. They see great potential in you"
I did not drink to excess and I noticed that the majority of my peers restrained themselves too. I left with Captain Carrick and most of the cadets. I had washed and was ready for bed when the drunks returned. I heard them coming down the corridor. They were incredibly loud. They reached my door and it was thrown open and a drunken Robert Hughes-Graham stood there swaying.
"If it isn't the teacher's pet! I felt positively sick all day watching you sucking up to those moronic sergeants."
I saw heads appear from the other rooms along the dormitories.
"Perhaps it was t
he drink you had. And you are drunk again tonight so goodnight." I went to close the door but he put his foot in the way. He was with three of his inner circle and they blocked my door.
"You never went to public school I can tell! Not a surprise from someone whose father is obviously not a gentleman born but we will introduce you to a little tradition called scragging! Get him boys!"
I had met bullies before and I was not intimidated. Dad had taught me to go on the offensive straight away and I did. I punched the General's son hard in the stomach with my best shot. He reeled backwards into the corridor and began to vomit.
Alfred, his best friend, shouted, "Why you…"
He got no further as I pulled his outstretched fist towards me and rammed his head into the edge of the door. He slumped to the ground with glazed eyes. The other two stood there with fists at the ready but doubt in their eyes. The doors down the corridor opened wider and the other cadets came out of their rooms to look down at the scene. "Now then you two, you are drunk and I take no pleasure in giving a drubbing to a drunk. But if you don't take your two friends away and clean up the corridor then I shall give the two of you a damned good hiding."
Their fists lowered and they did as I asked. When the corridor was empty and they had made a half hearted attempt to clean up the corridor I went to the cleaner's cupboard, found a mop and bucket and finished off the job. I was just finishing when the night porter arrived. He nodded, "You been ill then sir?"
"No, Jenkins, it was one of the other chaps."
He held out his hand, "Thank you for doing that sir. I'll put it away for you. Good night."
When I went into my room I jammed a chair behind the door. I wanted no more surprises.
Chapter 3
The next morning, when I went down to breakfast, I received scowls from half of my fellows. Surprisingly three came to sit next to me. Alfred, the friend of the son of the General, had a blackened and swollen nose. He looked positively apoplectic with rage. I sighed. I could do nothing about it.
The young man next to me held out his hand, "My name is Roger Pearson. I saw it all last night. It was terribly brave of you to take four of them on don't you know."
"Oh it wasn't that brave. They were drunk and like all bullies they thought they could frighten me."
"They terrify me! I was badly bullied at Harrow. I came up here because I thought there wouldn't be bullies." I looked at one of the quiet lads who had sat next to me on the first night. I felt guilty now. He had been quiet and reserved because he was terrified. He shook his head as he held out his hand, "Phillip Cowley."
I shook his hand, "Pleased to meet you."
We were all on parade on time. I noticed wry grins on the faces of the sergeants and Captain Carrick.
Sergeant Greely stood with legs apart and his swagger stick held behind his back. He rolled up and down on the balls of his feet as he spoke. "You will be pleased to know that today, we will not be marching, running nor shooting." There were audible sighs of relief. "Today we are going to teach you how to fight without a gun; unarmed combat." He openly grinned at Alfred. "I think some of you, from what I hear, may well need it."
Inside I groaned. I did not need this.
We were taken to the University rugby field where the sergeants showed us moves designed to defeat an enemy by using his own strength and weight against him. I had been taught some of the moves many years earlier by Warrant Officer Ted Taylor who had been an expert himself. Once again I was praised for my success. I did not want notoriety I wanted anonymity. Things went from bad to worse. I was not threatened again; I think they all knew they would come worse off but their snide comments and mockery wore me down.
It came to a head when we were issued a Webley revolver and taken to the ranges. I deliberately missed with my first six shots. Sergeant Greely's face became crimson and he hauled me by the ear from the firing line. Out of the hearing of the others he said, "What is your game young man? Why did you deliberately miss?" My eyes involuntarily flickered to my tormentors. The sergeant smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, "I thought as much. Listen son we all heard what happened when they tried to rough you up and you did the right thing. There are toss pots like that in every walk of life. You behaved as I would expect a gentleman to behave. They did not. Now get back there and show me what you can do. Losing is a bad habit to get into. I prefer it when you are winning because that is what you are, Mr Harsker, a winner."
"Right Sarge, sorry."
I reloaded and this time hit five bulls and one which clipped the edge of the bull. The sergeants all clapped and Sergeant Greely said, "Now that is how you shoot."
That proved a turning point and the bullies, with an increasing number of allies, began to pick on those who had befriended me. One by one they stopped sitting with me. The last two to leave were Phillip and Roger. It took a bloody nose for Phillip to switch allegiances and I did not blame either of them. In fact I felt happier when they were away from me for that way they were safe. I made sure that my letters home did not give a hint of my troubles. Both my parents had enough to worry about without me adding to them. I would deal with it.
As July drew to a close I found myself alone in the small park just down the road from the University. I have always had this ability to think things through. As I watched the urchins and street children playing games together I worked out what I ought to do. If I stayed at University I would be alone. Robert Hughes-Graham had too much influence. I did not mind being alone but what was the point of being at University if I could not socialise. In addition I would be with them all for the officer training for the next three years. I would be with them for twenty four hours a day and that idea did not appeal to me.
It was the officer training element which decided me. I thoroughly enjoyed all of the training we had been given. I felt alive and I knew that I enjoyed the military life. However I preferred the company of the sergeants to my peers. I did not want to be an officer. That decided my future became easy. I would join up.
I was no coward and I steeled myself, the next morning, to face Captain Carrick. As soon as we were dismissed from the parade and before we were marched off to our rifle practice I said, "Permission to speak with the Captain privately, sir."
I knew what they all thought. They believed that I had been broken and that I would be telling tales about the bullying. I say in the faces of my tormentors. Nothing could be further from the truth. I could handle being sent to Coventry. I could face the bullies. I could endure the isolation. I was making my decision because it was something I wanted to do. The only thing their action had done was focus my mind and for that I ought to have been grateful to them.
"Permission granted."
Every eye was on the two of us as I followed Captain Carrick to his office. I stood to attention and he waved me to a seat. "What's this about then, Tom?"
"I'd like to leave, sir."
His mouth opened and closed like a fish. I smiled as he reached for his pipe. He had learned that from my dad. He used the pipe to give himself thinking time, "Is this about the bullying if it…"
"No sir, it isn't. I can handle that."
"But you are doing so well. The sergeants can't sing your praises highly enough. They are excited to be training such an accomplished officer. Your parents won't be happy if they think you are giving up."
I felt myself colouring, "With respect, sir, I find that remark offensive. I am not giving up!"
"That is what it looks like from this side of the chair."
"No sir, you are wrong. Look may I speak candidly?"
"Of course."
"There is a war coming and we both know it. I want to be part of it and not stuck in a university. You went to war when you were my age didn't you?"
He smiled, "I was younger actually. I did my degrees after the war."
"Exactly, sir, and that is what I want to do. Could you have a word with the Chancellor and see if my place can be kept open for me until after the war?"
"I am not…"
"I know you could do it, sir. I have come to realise that you are held in high regard here."
"Well I suppose I could but what would you do then? Go to Officer Training School?"
"No sir, enlist."
"But you wouldn't be an officer."
"Nor was my father when he joined up. I am happy about that."
He tapped out his pipe which had gone out. "I suppose that would be an interesting idea. Which branch of the air force; fighters, bombers…?"
"Not the air force."
"What!" This time I had truly surprised him.
"I know what it would be like. Every officer I met would have heard of my dad and what he did in the war. They would all expect me to be the same and I'm not. People would make allowances for me and treat me differently. I am sorry, sir, but it has happened here. You couldn't help telling everyone what a hero my dad was and I agree with you he is my hero too. That is a huge cross to carry. I am not certain that I could."
I could see that I had stunned him. "Then what would you do?"
"I have enjoyed what I have done here already, sir, and I think I would join the army. I'd like to be ready when war is declared."
"But you have so many skills. They would be wasted as a squaddy!"
I laughed, "Dad joined the army as a cavalryman and the Royal Flying Corps because he could mend cars. He became a pilot. I don't know what I will be good at yet. It might be nothing but I am an optimist and I believe that there is something out there that needs me to do it. It isn't sitting in Manchester University for three years while good men die."
He fiddled with his pipe and then he grinned and stood up. He held out his hand, "I'll tell you this, you are your father's son! I'll do what I can."
"Thank you, sir. Do you mind if I change into civvies? I'd like to go into Manchester and get things started."
Commando Page 3
