The Circassian. "Wrong Side"

by Bob Bidecant

  *****

  It was seven o clock on a warm summer evening when Sinclair heard the unmistakable noise of fighting. A common sound from new recruits finding their place in the hen pecking order that needed no stripes on the arm to establish. He walked slowly towards the sound with his corporal beside him intent on giving someone the bollocking of their life. But as they turned the corner he stopped in his tracks in silence and disbelieve. Sapper Jones who was the biggest boy in his command and a known bully was backing away from one of the skinniest humans Sinclair had set eyes on.

  A bag of bones with a uniform several sizes too big for him was wind milling punches at the bigger boy driving him backwards. Sinclair tapped the corporal on the arm and whispered.

  ‘Who is the fighting skeleton?’

  ‘Joined up last week Sergeant Major. A Jewish cockney named Josh Andrews.’ He whispered back.

  Sinclair grinned at the sight and said.

  ‘Wait a wee minute, let’s see what happens next.’ He held his arm out to stop his corporal stepping forward to intervene. Sinclair watched unnoticed by the fighting boys and the spectators who had surrounded them. Jones threw a right hook that landed to the side of Josh’s face, buckling his knees and dropping him to the dirt like a stone. As Jones stood over him fists clenched, Josh placed his left hand on the floor and lifted himself up swinging his right fist in the general direction of the bigger boy. Jones, regaining his composure, punched him accurately straight in the eye knocking him back down. Refusing to stay on the floor Josh regained his feet several times only to be knocked back down again.

  The corporal evidently agitated by the non-intervention looked at Sinclair who nodded to him,

  ‘Alright, the boy has had enough.’

  With that the corporal leapt forward into sight and barked at the boys.

  ‘Officer present.’ Sinclair followed him towards the two fighters.

  ‘March them away Corporal.’ Sinclair ordered and watched as they doubled away towards the main building that housed his office, where they waited outside, marching on the spot. He pondered his thoughts as he followed them back slowly. Sitting behind his desk the two were doubled in and halted in front of him, Josh nearly falling with exhaustion.

  ‘What happened, Jones?’ he asked.

  ‘He insulted the colours Sergeant Major.’ replied Jones, hoping the age old excuse could save him.

  ‘Bollocks.’ replied Sinclair.’ If I was to believe you half of the sappers here you have punched have insulted the colours.’

  ‘Did you insult the colours?’ he asked Josh.

  ‘No Sir. I found him searching through my belongings when I came back into the sleeping quarters.’ Sinclair had heard a rumour that Jones had been caught with his hands in others personal belongings but no one had come forward. Most were intimidated by the size of Jones. Now here was probably the skinniest person Sinclair had seen boldly confronting him.

  ‘Who threw the first punch?

  ‘I did Sergeant Major.’ Replied Josh.

  ‘About turn Jones, five days for fighting. Now fuck off out of my face, march him to the guard room corporal.’ Jones couldn’t believe his luck and smirked briefly as he executed an about turn and doubled out of the room.

  ‘Stand at ease.’ He told Josh.

  The corporal returned quietly and stood next to Josh.

  ‘You’re a Jew aren’t you Andrews?’

  ‘Yes Sir.’

  ‘Don’t call me Sir, I am a non-commissioned officer and proud of it, that’s a Jewish name isn’t it?

  ‘Not really Sergeant Major, my family changed it a bit when they got to London, because people couldn’t say my real name.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Abromovich Sergeant Major.’

  ‘I see so you’re not only a Jew you are also a bloody Russian?’

  ‘Not really, we were not accepted by the Russians but I was born in the Steppes, we escaped the pogrom by walking to Holland and then got a boat over to London.’ Sinclair’s tone softened as he asked

  ‘You walked from Russia to Holland. Where is your family now?’

  ‘My mother died when I was born and father died last year of the Tuberculosis.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get it?’

  ‘I did Sergeant Major, but it didn’t kill me.’

  ‘No, you are a tough little fucker aren’t you. All right, here is the deal Ab, fucking romo, fucking vich, or whatever your name is, as you threw the first punch you get the punishment. You are to do thirty days.’

  The corporal, moved his head slightly with shock, thirty days for fighting was a bit harsh, even for Sinclair, he must hate the boy, he thought. Sinclair noticing his head turn but choosing to ignore it spoke again.

  ‘Or I will reduce it to five days the same as Jones and twenty five days reporting to Lance Corporal Evans at the gymnasium each evening directly after supper for two hours work, your choice.’ Josh was bewildered, but there was no choice.

  ‘Thank you Sergeant Major, I will report to the gymnasium and take the five days.’

  ‘Correct answer, and don’t thank me, I am not your fucking auntie, I am punishing you,’ replied Sinclair.

  The corporal smiled as Sinclair ordered them out. ‘What are you fucking smiling about, take him where the sun don’t shine and the birds cant shit on him,’ he snarled at the corporal. Now fuck off, and make sure he attends gym afterwards.’

  After five days of doubling everywhere around the barracks, his ears ringing from the guards screaming at him, Josh and Jones were released from the tiny jail. Twice during that time he had fallen with exhaustion and to the disbelieve of the guards, Jones helped him up and held him until he could stand, normally the guards would not have allowed it but the story had spread about Josh standing up to this big man and they made an exception. Josh’s courage had earned him many friends, including Jones. That evening when Josh left his barracks, Jones was waiting for him.

  ‘You don’t want another fight do you?’ Josh asked, looking at the bigger man.

  ‘No, just waiting to walk to the canteen with you.’ Jones replied, holding his hand out.

  Josh shook his hand and they were friends for life. They walked together to the canteen and stood in the queue waiting for food. One ladle of stew was slopped into each soldier’s billycan. The Corporal serving looked up and realised it was Josh.

  ‘Andrews, come back here you.’ He called.

  The Corporal took Josh’s plate and added a second ladle of stew, Jones smiled and held his out too.

  ‘Only him, Sergeant Major’s orders.’ said the Corporal. ‘And he told me if that greedy Welsh prat asks for an extra one, tell him to fuck off.’

  Jones grinned lopsidedly and moved on.

  After supper, Josh reported to the gymnasium, mop and bucket in hand. Lance Corporal Evans the instructor turned to look at him and asked.

  ‘What the hell are you going to do with that bucket, hit someone over the head with it, put it down and get some fucking gloves on, the Sergeant Major told me to teach you to box.’

  And learn to box Josh did.