BULLY BILL.

Otago Witness, Issue 4048, 13 October 1931, Page 72

BULLY BILL.

By

H. C. Barks

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.) Say what you jolly well please about the war—curse it, bless it. if you like—to me it has been a perfect godsend! How? Well, simply because it has removed a bitter enemy and gained me heaven-born happiness! That’s reason enough, isn't it? And it didn't cost me anything much, either. You wouldn't think tliis gloved hand wasn't the -eal | thing, would you? Anyhow, it’s good i enough for an estate agent in a fair | way of business and drawing a darned | sight bigger screw than he’s worth. Wlio’d have thought that a rough ne’er-do-well like 1 was would come in for such a slice of luck? Before the war 1 wasn't worth a brass farthing do anyone. Neither owning nor owing a red cent. I was just an ordinary private soldier who. in the course of seven years, has acquired only one thing: a pretty useful punch—a punch that was frequently exercised for the improvement of military manners. And you can bet I wasn't exactly loved by those who barged up against that punch! Taking the crush as a whole, however, it got me more reputation than bad blood. I fancy the name of William Bull—or Bully Bill, as they called me —was liked by most, feared by some, and detested by only a few; and a man can’t grouse at that in this contentious world, can he? But there was one rooky who, without rhyme or reason, fairly hated me. 1 tried to get chummy with the beggar, but he would have none of it. I was i “ pison ” to him from the start off. I I was of the “ old school ” and “ soine- ■ thing gauche,” whatever that meant. He was a hefty youngster by the name of Marmaduke Hallows. Did you ever hear of such a name in the ranks? It didn't seem sense. " Marmalade ” seemed i better: so I called him that, which just I suited him. he was such a la-di-da sort ;of chap. Wore green socks and parted ! his hair in the middle. Sang highfalutin’ I songs, talked about having “ loonch ” and i all that. Oh. he was ,a high-class nut, ) was the same Marmaduke; though, mind i you, he turned opt a tough ’un in the

end. Our first dust-up was a bit unlucky -—for him! I was returning from the races one Saturday evening after a—well, the fact is, I was just a bit sprung —when I saw several low-down chaps pestering a young lady. Somehow I was rather glad; it fitted in with my humour. I came on them sudden like and got mixed up with them for a few bustling minutes, while the girl —she was a stunner!—egged me on. I had just given the last one a powerful seductive when up rushed a civvy and caught me a thundering whack behind the ear. There seemed something so unfriendly in the act that I got out iny punch and side-stepping, got home on the mark in one. The girl screamed out something. But it was too late. That blamed civvy's beak was rooting in the grass! “Want any more—Marmalade?” I cried, recognising him. “He is my brother.” wailed the lady, catching me by the arm. “He doesn’t deserve to be. miss.” said I. still ruffled. “Oh, hut it’s all a mistake,” she continued distressfully. “ Don’t you see. he thought you were ” I burst out laughing. “ Whv, of course! ” I cried, holding out my hand to his nibs. “Look here, old man. You’re improperly dressed, you know, but—shake! ” lie shook his head instead and scowled. “ You’re humiliating me,” he said, “and I won’t forget it! ” “And you’ve nearly spiflieated me,” I grinned, rubbing my ear, “ and I can’t forget it! But couldn’t we have a little liquor on it? ” But to my regret he scorned the suggestion and bundled his protesting sister away, grumbling all the time.

That’s the kind of man I was before the. war. A bit too free and easy with hand and lip. There’s no sense in making enemies. And Marmalade kept his word about not forgetting. Sunday, Monday, my white was black to him and vice versa all the time. But I

didn’t mind. We’re here to be put through it: it develops our character and all that. Besides, I hate a neutral or a fellow too proud to fight; one side or t’other, says I, or go to the devil! And if I lost on the swings I generally pulled up on the roundabout. He laid me out for the best part of a week at hockey, and J had him fairly ramping on the football field. Somehow, 1 was sorry to see his lovely sister at the match, and I sometimes wished she wasn’t hie sister. However, he proved a good hater, and, one way or another, it made the time and the fur fly. You’d have laughed to see the look on his face when we met in the final at the big boxing tournament: there was blood in his eye! He’d been working for this for a year, and had got himself up like a young Sandow. But what can a man do in such a devil of a temper? Perhaps I overdid it when I said, “ Hallo, Marmalade! Not dead yet?” Anyhow, it was a rattling show, and as hot as blazes while it lasted, and I felt real sorry for the ehap; he tried so hard to dodge that punch of mine. He didn’t take it kindly either; for later on, when his sister whispered a word to me on the quay just before sailing for France, he turned on her in a passion: “Don’t speak to that man, [Mabel!” he said. 1 wonder what lied | have said if he’d heard her! As for I me, you could have blown me over with | a puff from a woodbine. “ Look after J him, won’t you?” she said with a me’.t- -• ing glance. “ You’re so strong and ; masterful,” she went on, “and so much more experienced,” adding softly, “ and God keep you too.” It’s as true as I stand here, and T can see her beautiful face now as she said it. Of course I promised, imrngh [ didn’t see what I could do. But the grand thing was that she, at any rate, didn’t hate me. That thought had been worrying me for a long time. Her brother, however, made up for it. The devil was in him. I think! Nothing 1 could do altered his detestation for me. If I sang round a camp fire he'd turn his back on me, or if I collected an odd fowl or two for the mess he'd not touch it with fixed bayonet!

You never saw such a reckless chap as he was in the trenches. He didn’t believe in cover, and it’s a wonder he i wasn’t killed a dozen times when he I got on the parapet to take better aim. | He didn't like my interfering, and said | he would flatten me out if I pulled him down again. And in the retreat from Mons he was always, or wanted to be. the last man over a bridge or out of a dangerous place. How he cursed me when I frustrated him! But his language was nearly blue in the affair of the fortified house when he volunteered to go out after some ammunition and I got permission, against his desire, to co-operate. Our platoon commander had orders to hold the place for two hours before nightfall, while the rest of the battalion dug themselves in farther back. The job was possible if only the ammunition lasted. But it was running low, and longing eyes had been cast on the. dead mule with precious boxes midway between us and the Huns’ forward trench about one-twenty yards distant. We started crawling from opposite sides of the house, while the boys covered us with a pretty healthy fire, 'it wa s an exciting race, if it may be called such, but I managed to cover the ground a bit faster, and so was spotted first. A couple of puffs under me did no harm whatever, i and only gave our fellows the chance to make it so hot for the other side that they daren’t attempt anything more than a lightning snap. As we converged towards our objective I could hear Marmalade puffing and swearing at me. and didn’t he lay it on thick! lie called me a cad. a spoil sport, dirty, miserable bruiser, while I grinned and waved my hand to him. I'd hardly twenty yards to go when Marmalade got up* and started to run. “ Bust you! ” he cried, overtaking me. “I’ll beat you yet.’’ Then I began to swear, for the bullets came faster now. “ Get down, you bluebarrelled idiot! Marmalade, you’re the bi other of an angel, but I’ll punch vour silly fat head off! ” I was after him,* but he’d even commenced the return journey with two boxes in tow when I arrived; for a bit of pain in the side had slowed me down. Go home and bag your head! ” he said savagely, as I made no attempt to help him.* All I could do was to grin and keep in his wake, hoping my big carcass might shield him; for those pills were worth their weight in gold, and I was past shiftin" them myself. How that boy tugged and slaved at it! For all his gamey leg he was like a horse, and over that *sheir pitted ground I couldn’t keep up. We were nearing home when with a whirr a bomb came over my head and landed plumb between the boxes, fizzing like a squib. Lord! Putting all I had into it, I jumped for the devilish thin", grabbed it, and stuck it down a small hole a yard off the track. There fol-

lowed an explosion, and darkness came over me

When I came to I was in hospital and swathed in bandages. Someone came limping over to my bed, and I looked up. “Hallo, Marmalade! ” I cried, waving my stump. “I’m afraid I’ll have to owe you that punch! What’s the matter with you?” I added, for he had turned away sharply. “1 don’t know what it is, Billy,” he said. “ I think I got a whiff from one of those German sheds that make the eyes smart. But what I wanted to say, old chap, was that they’re giving you the V.C. for saving the ammunition and my life. Don’t speak! I believe you've gained me something very good too. I wish I could tell you how I He stopped, and a smile came through his tears. “ But I must leave that to my sister who ” “Your sister?” I cried. “Sweet Mabel? ” “Yes, the minx! It is through her I hated you so much! She was always ramming you down my throat, even in her letters.” A momentary flush of happiness came over me at the thought of that lovely girl whose image was always in my heart, but—l looked at my bandaged arm sadly. “Oh, she knows all about that, and is coming to you to-day as a Red Cross nurse to offer hers, if you’ll have it. Why, here she is! ”

There was a light step and a rustle, and my Mabel’s face came close to mine. “Bully Bill! ” she said very tenderly.