大象传媒

This story was submitted by Rod Sutton on behalf of Keith Solomon the author and has been added to this site with his permission. The author fully understands the sites terms and conditions,

Father who had served in WW1 was too old to join the armed services in this second conflict and to do his bit he joined the Special Constabulary at Bodmin where, because Mother was licensee of the Masons Arms, Father became a very popular and sought after member of the establishment - and it had nothing to do with policing.

When the air-raid siren sounded certain road junctions and points were to be manned until the all clear sounded or something more drastic occured. Father, to facilitate getting dressed at night in the dark more efficiently, got a pair of trousers two sizes too big in the waist so that he would not have to fight the stiff fly buttons (no zips then mind!). They were kept up by a stout pair of braces.
The first time he made use of this novel idea was early in the morning when the siren sounded, and Father jumped out of bed in the darkness, pulled on his trousers and promptly put two legs down one trouser. With much hopping, muttering and struggling he managed to dress and run down to his alloted "point", met a regular bobby coming up. On being asked where he was going dressed like a circus clown, and on replying that the siren had sounded he was told that;
1) It was NOT the warning he heard but the "all clear" and
2) Why, please, were his trousers on back to front?
To hush this up it cost him several pints of beer!

On another occassion while on duty ar the Polixe Station at Bodmin, a call came in from a remote farm that they had captured a German parachutist near Withiel. Staff being short, Father was deputed to go with two regular officers in a patrol car to arrest this enemy parachutist, amd tp bring him back to Headquarters. Father was of the opinion that he knew where this farm was but at night, no sign boards, and severely shielded lights on the car, it was not long before they were lost!
Daylight was breaking before they arrived to find sundry farmers with shotguns and prongs (pitchforks to you and me) guarding the smelliest, dirtiest wretch who ever fell into a pile of fresh manure. As the farmers could not understand the airman or he they, it came as a surprise to discover he was not a German, but the crewman of a shot up US aircraft trying to reach St Evan and had been ordered to bail out. Hence, it was said, this American jumped from an aircraft and parachuted down, only to land in a pile of s**t and to be taken a prisoner of war by his own side. Conveying him back to Headquaters sitting beside Father there was no doubt that the stench rubbed off, and the uniform was thourghly washed! (no dry cleaning in the area then) and guess what? The trousers fitted afterwards.

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