NextBackOne day whilst on an exercise I was running along a river bank near Brooklands when the front half of the gun fell into the water, this was because I had not reassembled it correctly and what should have been a relatively easy recovery job turned into a nightmare taking all afternoon. Unfortunately the barrel section had plopped into the water just opposite a swans nest and when we approached the point of entry, the angry bird, thoroughly convinced that we were trying to steal its eggs, viciously attacked us, catching up with panic stricken Titchy and Mickie Brown and beating them about the head. Terrified of returning to barracks with only half a gun, I approached the spot once again from the opposite side of the bank, the swan's blind spot. Gurgling and floundering under the muddy water I at last located the missing gun barrel, but with my ears full of water did not hear Mickie and Titchy shouting as they ran off, "The Dickie Man is coming". The 'Dickie man', so called because of an unfortunate physical deformity of short backward facing arms and whose hands always seemed to be playing with his crotch as he walked, hence the name, owned this stretch of the river.
We had always been terrified of the 'Dickie man' but with the mindless cruelty of children we teased him mercilessly, safe in the knowledge that with his deformity he would have difficulty in catching us, well! he had caught me now. With the swan approaching me from one direction and the 'Dickie man' from the other I was in between a rock and a hard place. The 'Dickie man' got to me first and clutching the gun barrel I was hoisted out of the water by my jacket collar, my heart pounding and fully expecting a thrashing. "Are you alright son" he enquired, "She's got a bad temper that one" he said, indicating the hissing swan. "Now boy you come with me". Shaking like a leaf with cold and fear I followed him to his farm house where to my surprise he dried me out, gave me a cup of hot soup and even cleaned up the Bren gun. He turned out to be a lovely old man, a life lesson learned, " judge not the book by it's cover!" On return to the Barracks, I found that Graham Hall, a sworn enemy of mine who also coveted the Bren gun, had with glee reported my misfortune to the sergeant and to my great relief, I was back once again, "Takatateeking" with renewed enthusiasm on the 'Ping Pong' bat. After three months there was still no vacancy in the Army Cadet Drum Corps and desperate to get my hands on a drum I switched my allegiance to the Air Training corps. I immediately offered myself to the drum and Bugle corps where I was presented with a rather battered looking bugle, would I ever get my hands on a drum?.
