Open Writing

I firmly believe that I could never have been a member of a gang or a soldier, as I have always believed that I could never carry out any order unquestioningly. One of my fellow scout’s, Eardley W was a perfect candidate for both these callings. Eardley was a devout member of his cousin’s Vivian’s gang at school.

On our train trip to another memorable Scout jamboree in 1941 to the seaside town of Puri, Eardley, Vivian and I were among a dozen senior scouts sharing a compartment. As we were ‘Sixers" our compartment was unsupervised. Father Mac and Pat were in the other compartments with the younger scouts.

As the train approached the outskirts of Puri, Vivian, who knew that the line ran along the beach before moving back inland to Puri's railway station, said, “We can all jump off the train when it slows down just before crossing the bridge over a backwater. This will give us an hour or so at the beach before the others arrive back to our camp from the station.''

We picked up our bedrolls and lined up at the now open door.

Vivian elected Eardley to be the first to jump. Eardley opened the door of the carriage and clambered down to the bottom step. A couple of others moved on to the steps above him. We could see the bridge approaching in the distance. However, the train showed no signs of slowing down.

"Jump Eardley Jump," yelled Vivian.

Eardley continued to hang on, frozen with terror.

"Jump you Ulu or it will be too late," his cousin urged.

Eardley shut his eyes and leaped almost colliding with the stanchion of the bridge. We heard him scream as he disappeared over the embankment into some bushes. Every hand in the compartment grabbed the emergency chain causing the train to screech to a halt, throwing some us off our feet.

The scoutmasters anxiously climbed down from the next carriage. They had also heard the scream and after finally making some sense of our combined efforts to be the first to say what had happened, were soon at Eardley’s side.

The next thing I remember was a stark naked Eardley standing in the middle of our carriage as the train set off again. Pat stood by while the rest of us extracted the thorns Eardley wore like a pincushion and then he watched us paint Eardley’s severely scratched body with iodine. Many of us cried in sympathy with him and the consequences of our actions.

Fate had not done with Eardley on that jamboree, as a few days later, after swimming in the gardener’s water storage pool, Eardley slipped while running on the cement veranda of the beach house in which we were staying, slicing open the side of his foot on a bolt in the door. Without saying a word to anyone, he went into his room and stuffed the deep wound with cotton wool soaked in iodine. His pulled on his socks to cover the evidence.

That evening, Pat saw that Eardley looked decidedly unwell. When he found out what the silly boy had done, he made us ‘Sixers’ hold him down while he extracted the blood-soaked cotton wool with a pair of tweezers before redressing the wound. Once again we shared in poor Eardley's agony.

Another recollection of my school days concerned Vivian and Brown kites, commonly known as "Shite Hawks". These birds constantly soared over the schoolyard forcing us to eat our meals under the cover of a hot corrugated iron shed. If we forgot and walked outside holding our food in our hands, the kites would swoop down and snatch the food from us, often lacerating our hands in the process.

Vivian was so annoyed when it happened to him one day, that he brought an old blanket to school, threw it down on the ground, threw pieces of meat onto it and stood by holding his hockey stick at the ready. When the kites snagged their claws on the blanket and were not able to rise again, he rushed out and beat them to death.

In 1945 five other students and I successfully completed the first year of our two-year course for the Senior Cambridge entrance examination. That same year the other male students did their final year for the B.O.A.T. (Board of Apprenticeship Training) certificate. We left India before I was able to complete the second and final year.

© Clement 2006