You can’t win them all.
A short fantasy that could have happened in our camp in 1946. This is my return to the site after a long absence.
It was a typical boring Sunday afternoon in the camp.the Nissen hut,home to some thirty Prisoners of War,was a boring place at any time., the rain did not help.
Herbert was dozing.In the background he could hear the droning voice of the bully of the hut,who imagined himself to be superior to anyone else.
He talked about how his mother used to cook a certain dish , and its ingredients.Herbert interrupted saying that he had forgotten to mention a particular spice his own mother used to add.
The bully shouted:”Your mother couldn’t cook, she was too bloody daft”.
Herbert would not have that:Apologise you bully”.
Albert, the bully jumped up Shouting:”I’ll give you a bloody smacking, you little runt”.
“You, and who else?”was Herbert’s reply.
Albert lifted his fists, but before he could strike found himself on the floor, looking up at Herbert,who asked;”Want some more”? There was no reply from Albert.
“No one insults my mother thinking to get away with it,just remember that, and also remember that you can’t win them all”.
Herbert had never revealed the fact that he had been a paratrooper, well trained in self-defense.