Here Comes Treble: A Fond Farewell
...When I married Leon, Bill was first among my male friends to make sure that Leon knew who he’d have to deal with if I was hurt in any way. Bill’s fierce blue eyes and beetling brows were daunting, even though he was at that time well into his 70’s. Luckily for us, Leon was the best person ever to ‘happen’ to me, and soon he and Bill were firm friends....
Isabel Bradley pays tribute to a wonderful man and a wonderful friend.
There were probably over a hundred people gathered in front of the church, most dressed in dark colours, talking quietly, smiling at each other, and wiping their eyes. Leon and I commented how strange funerals are, when families and friends reunite, possibly after long periods of not seeing each other.
Bill and I were members of Writers 2000, a Johannesburg-based writers’ group. I was in the throes of writing a novel based on my grandfather’s experiences during the First World War. Knowing that Bill was a sniper during the Second War, and was an expert on so much that I needed to know, I asked him to critique my work. He was most enthusiastic and encouraging about each chapter of my book as I handed them to him, hot off the computer printer.
He became my source of insight into the camaraderie experienced by soldiers in war and into the nitty-gritty of battle. During one memorable visit to his home, Bill gave me a hands-on lesson on how to shoot with a Lee-Enfield SMLE Mk III rifle. Luckily it was unloaded. He followed that up with ‘dancing lessons’: the practical points of hand-to-hand combat with a bayonet attached to the rifle. It all felt horribly gory and very real, though we didn’t even have a sandbag to gore.
Bill was a fine writer himself. Like many talented writers with wonderful stories to tell, he didn’t manage to get much published, other than articles for the local outdoor magazines. However, I was privileged to read and edit each of Bill’s books, only one of which was published briefly. He wrote beautifully, always with a sense of humour. His first book was ‘Wagon Girl’, a tale about one of the ‘Great Treks’ into the interior of South Africa that took place in the 18th and 19th centuries, full of adventure and wild-life and love, reminiscent of the early Wilbur Smith novels.
His published book was a marvellous tale of a guardian ghost-cum-Zulu-warrior who helped a sniper through the dark days of the Second War. It is largely auto-biographical, depicts battle scenes and wounds with graphic detail, the story told with humour, love and understanding. It was called The Shield of Mashona, and our signed copy has pride of place on our bookshelves. Another writing friend, with Bill’s blessing, produced from it a brilliant movie script. All that’s needed now is several million dollars to actually make the movie. It would be an instant hit.
Other books that Bill wrote were also war stories that had me alternately roaring with laughter and sobbing, and short stories and articles in their hundreds, all written with that wry sense of humour, and an understanding of humanity that was particularly Bill’s.
When I married Leon, Bill was first among my male friends to make sure that Leon knew who he’d have to deal with if I was hurt in any way. Bill’s fierce blue eyes and beetling brows were daunting, even though he was at that time well into his 70’s. Luckily for us, Leon was the best person ever to ‘happen’ to me, and soon he and Bill were firm friends.
One afternoon, after an uncomfortable incident at a shopping centre, Bill gave Leon a hands-on lesson in self-defence, as frightening as my lesson on bayonets. At over 80 years of age, Bill could still defend himself against a man twenty years his junior, armed with either gun or knife, with his bare hands.
With Bill and his wife Daphne, we enjoyed Writers’ and family functions. Daphne and I often ended up chatting away about everything from children to grandchildren to knitting to men, while Leon and Bill huddled together over camping tales or grand plans for wild-life conservation.
Bill’s 80th birthday party was a grand occasion, including his and Daphne’s sons and daughters, their spouses and all their offspring, down to the great-grandchildren. They overflowed the house and filled the garden with laughter and talk. Their affection for ‘Gramps’, as they knew Bill, was obvious, every action taken needing his blessing.
In the last several years, Bill’s health deteriorated. He fought cancer on several fronts. As one of his grandsons said at the funeral, he was always the soldier, fighting valiantly to the end.
As the lone piper tuned up, tears were in everyone’s eyes. The coffin rolled into the church as the piper skirled away outside. Bill was escorted by a son, six grandsons and a troupe of stooped and shaken old men in uniform, medals proudly pinned to their jackets. We all shed tears for the passing of a Grand Gentleman: Bill, who taught his grandsons to swear, to camp and to open doors for ladies; Bill, who taught his lovely granddaughters the meaning of being ladies; Bill who taught a very un-warlike woman how to fight and kill with a bayonet…
Bill will be missed by all who knew him. We wish him peace and joy after 87 years of living life to the full. RIP, dear friend.
Until next time…. ‘here comes Treble!’
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27 June 2011 by Isabel Bradley
