大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Roger Marsh of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Reg Reid, and has been added to the site with the authors permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

The Lighter Side of War

By
Don Alexander

CHAPTER 7b: Reg becomes BUTCH thanks to Smith and Wesson and lands himself in trouble

A D.R. from `C' platoon got Reg a Smith and Wesson handgun (a 6-gun) for ten pounds - quite a bargain even though 拢10 was a lot of money in 1941. This was quite a lot too from his savings, his `Red Hunter' savings from Newark days when he had hired out the bikes there. He'd sent his mother money now and again and his mother sent him cakes now and again. He never sent his father money. In the vulgar jargon of the day, 鈥淗e would just piss it up the wall.鈥� Fourteen shillings (70p) a week was more than enough for Reg, though he hoped to take his second class exam soon to bring his pay up to (87陆 p) per week, and then he could put more aside to save up for his demob.

Now back to the handgun. Reg had reasoned that this would be of more use than a 303 rifle to a fitter working under lorries if they were sent overseas against the enemy. His possession of a handgun was, of course, illegal but everyone knew about it except the officers. The NCOs turned a blind eye and the lads were amused by his skill at drawing it from its holster and firing accurately at a target in one quick movement. So much so that one of the lads christened him `Butch' after Butch Cassidy, the quick firing cowboy of the day. This name stuck and so from now on we must call him `Butch' Reid.

Sergeant Johnson who went to Canada after the war, and who had known and liked Reg over the turbulent years 1941 鈥� 43, christened his first-born `Butch' in his honour. We must assume that his first-born didn't look exactly like our 'Butch'!

Reg - sorry, Butch - had to check `A' platoon's lorries, as well as Lt. Yates' Austin pick-up, regularly at Broxmore, as well as being out with the convoys for possible breakdowns. It being the army, there were forms to fill in certifying a vehicle's roadworthiness every six months or so - a forerunner of today's MOT.

One day when he had finished checking his lorries and was walking to the stables, he met Driver Lush coming down the drive, who said he'd been looking for him to warn him there was to be a kit inspection. Lush suggested he hid Butch's handgun in his lorry - he'd got a pass and was going home to Southampton. Butch gave him the gun in its holster to look after and thanked the lad for warning him.

The kit inspection was first thing the following morning, on a Saturday, then it was work to midday and the rest of the day off. Brotherstone was off to Connah's Quay to see his girlfriend Lucy, and most of his other friends were taking the chance to see their girlfriends, or to go to the cinema or to football matches in London or Brighton or wherever. Butch didn't follow football and didn't fancy spending a few miserable hours with Ruth, so he went on the Manxman to Salisbury. He thought to himself that the old town and its magnificent cathedral was Old England at its best - worth fighting Jerry for. He reflected too on good old Sheffield going at it hammer and tongs - forging, rolling, pressing, extruding the special steels for the war effort. Some of his old friends were in these `reserved occupations', many of which, involving heavy lifting or, say, working with 5, 10 or 25 ton drop hammers, were unsuitable for women.

It was Don Valley v. Ruhr Valley again and the big Sheffield Steel names such as Vickers, John Brown, Thos. Firth, Chas Cammell, Jessops etc. etc. with their shipyards on Merseyside, Clyde and Barrow had to prove their worth yet again, turning totally from peacetime to wartime production. He thought a lot about his home city and the contrast between its noise and smoke and the quaint and clean city of Salisbury - or is it a town, he couldn't be sure. No countryside he had seen though, whether around Glasgow, High Wycombe, Worcestershire, Gloucestershire or here in Wiltshire could match the Peak District back home. It was unthinkable that those contrasting gritstone and limestone hills and beautiful dales could ever be under the Nazi heel.

He was in this reflective mood all the way on his bike back to the billet - in his mind's eye seeing future trips into the Peak with Ron Gregory - bombing round the thirteen killer bends to Bakewell. Influenced by his thoughts, he shot through the gates at Broxmore and up the drive at rather a high speed and鈥� What the bloody hell鈥檚 up here? (!!) Two MPs held up their hands for him to stop and he was placed under close arrest on a court martial. What the bloody hell was happening? He thought at first he'd been arrested for speeding - but surely not. The MPs didn't say a word as they led him to the Guard Room.

What the bloody... Driver Lush had gone home to Southampton, that's `what the bloody!' He had found his wife with his cousin - he knew they were lovers - that's why he wanted Butch's gun. He'd pointed the gun at them and fired four times! Fortunately Lush had not allowed for the gun kicking and the bullets had lodged in the wall just above the bed head. The lovers managed to get the gun from him and telephone the civilian police.

Lush was held in civvy police custody and he had told them that a certain soldier, Pte. Reginald William Reid, based at Broxmore House, Whiteparish, Salisbury, Wilts. had given him the gun. Hence Butch's military police reception committee. Lush was subsequently tried at Southampton by a civilian court. It was deemed to be a crime of passion and he got off! Butch was tried under military law. Two MPs marched him at the double in front of a certain self-important Captain Bonham-Carter, at his desk flanked by another officer and a clerk. The Smith and Wesson lay on the desk.

Captain B-C: "Did you give Driver Lush this revolver?" Butch Reid: "Yes Sir".
Captain B-C (crashing his wooden rule onto the table): "Six months' detention ".
A second lieutenant from the artillery was the other officer in the room. He was defending Butch but said nothing throughout the hearing. Never has the word `buckshee' fitted a second lieutenant more.
Captain bloody Bonham-Carter became a bigwig in the Labour Government after the war. Butch felt a keen sense of injustice that he'd been punished and driver Lush, who'd done the dirty deed, had got away with it. He hadn't known Lush wanted the gun to shoot at his wife and her lover. Lush had been underhand in obtaining it.

Be that as it may, when Driver Lush returned and went to the canteen, table after table shunned him. He'd got off scot-free and implicated a fellow soldier.

Even Major Dodds thought it was just not on - a damned bad show - just not cricket, and, for his own good, got him transferred to another company.

Butch liked new experiences in life - he even liked his new name - but it was with some foreboding that, escorted by two MPs, he went through the gate in the high wire fencing surrounding the Military Prison at Fort Dahlen Barracks, Chatham.

Pr-BR

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