LIONS and OTHER THINGS

Lions and other things ll

Then there was Three, more accurately; Three and Four And Five. He was Big, very Big. So Big in fact, that the army had no shoes that fitted him, well boots to be more to correct. Shoes were only issued to officers and soldiers with rank. Even clothes were not available. Eventually the Stores found him an overall that covered him adequately and he wore canvas running shoes in a size fourteen, that was all the army could do.

Three was expected to join in all the fun and games the Army offered, push-ups, running around in circles and other interesting, inane, bodily contortions the ‘volunteers’ were taught.

There was this little stream that had about a foot deep of water and one-and-a-half foot of mud, one side of the stream, a bank of about three feet high and the other side was almost level with the water, extending into a flatness all round.

On a Friday afternoon all the ‘volunteers’ were paraded with full pack and matching gear.
That included the ‘wife’ as well as ‘she’ was waterproof and could take the worst abuse we could give ‘her’. They told us, that it was one of the best weapons ever made. I hear the enemy got the same sermon.

And off we went, running in a circle, round and round, jump over the stream and land on the other side, make a graceful roll, back on your feet and run round again. This went on till the last soldier has landed in this stream of mud and water, Some of those soldiers were very fit and they had the stamina of a mule (I am sure the intelligence as well) because they kept us running in that circle for about an hour, till eventually the most fit were so tired that they also dropped into the muck.

I would not even bother, I would run one circle, plop into the mud and get it over and done with. At least I was cooled down and the running was no problem, I always liked playing in muck. Of course, the platoon leaders really enjoyed the games immensely as they had us do the games every other Friday afternoon.

This piece of earth had the endearing name of Horror Flats, as many a soldier would attest to that lovely name, including his honorable - the writer. Many a day, did I have the pleasure of exercising my best leopard crawl with a massive automatic weapon in the crook of my arms, donating elbow skin till it bled.

Guess what? Saturday morning was a full kit inspection!

Ever seen a soldier stand under a shower, fully dressed being washed down by his buddy. It was not funny then and I could never ever think, of it being funny, even now.

And Three joined in, with that massive mass of his. How he managed to survive, is proof of the human’s resilience, stamina and stubbornness.

Three was in the bungalow with a platoon leader who had been demoted a few times and had the reputation as a ‘mad man’ in general. Let us call this platoon leader MM. Apparently the reason for MM’s demotion was the abuse of training methods and ‘volunteers’. While the rest of the world was sleeping, MM would gather all his little chicks and make them run a ten-mile marathon before morning inspection, as frequently as he could. MM would run with them, he was no slough when it came to leading his men from the fore. One thing for sure was that MM’s little brood was the fittest and most tired group of us all.

About now, in the movies, a mean, quiet hero would step up and sort MM out.

That is in the movies.

This is how it went in real life.

We had bayonet practice. This is where a soldier would ‘FIX BAYONET’ and then, giving a blood-curling yell, impale a Hessian bag filled with straw, with a ferocity that would impress the best of vampire hunters.

There was also ‘the Stick’. This was a long pole which had a boxing-type-glove on the one end, a round metal ring about ten inches in diameter, at the other end and in the right hands was a training tool with deadly effect.

MM goaded Three into a frenzy to attack MM in all earnest, with a promise, that should Three hurt MM in any way, MM would accept it, even if Three killed him, Three would be cleared by MM’s word to us.

MM was of average size, well built, nothing that would say that he should even under estimate Three, as Three was massive and he really hated MM with a passion. MM was not one to mince words and he dealt out compliments to all and sundry as freely as Christmas Father gave presents to the deserving. Three usually got the brunt of MM’s nice words

Three went for MM with all the power he could muster, intending to impale MM in all seriousness. We all stood there in absolute silence, not quite believing what was happening, still, the look on both of the opponents told you that this was in all earnest.

Three, with his deadly bayonet going at MM with the training stick. I did say that the training stick, in the right hands was deadly.

After a while, Three was down on his knees, like the bull in a bull fight, bellowing out in rage and frustration, crying, tears of anger pouring down his face. His opponent, cool, calm, in total control, not a mark on him or even a usable sweat. The perfect soldier, a deadly killing machine, nobody liked him more, yet his share of respect did increase equally to our pity for Three.

Three was eventually discharged, the how and why, I never knew, yet I am sure that he was not a happy individual for his stint in service to his country.

There was talk of making a case against MM, as nobody would give evidence either way, the case was ignored.