The Only Life Open to Me Jack Kay

Chapter 1

ENLISTMENT

I Enlisted in the Royal East Kent Regiment (The Buffs) which became part of the Queen’s Regiment in early 1891. The reasons which led me to this this were briefly, instability to obtain employment. Family problems had in the first instance prevented me from having any useful trade or profession. Both of my parents suffered from acute alcoholism and I was their only support and had to work at menial jobs.I found myself face to face with life and was not ready to grapple with my problems. Being young and with little capability for judgement or discrimination I chose a soldier’s life because it seemed the only way open to me.

The start was bad enough to have foreshadowed a black future for one presenting myself at a barracks for enlistment. I found I was too old to enlist as a boy and too young to join as a boy. I was therefore told to adopt the requisite age of 18 to enlist. I was then examined rigorously by aDoctor and sworn in to serve 7 years as a regular soldier and then 5 years as a reserve, with an additional year if serving overseas. The pay was one shilling per week. The town I enlisted in was not where the regiment I enlisted, and I was given a railway warrant to travel to the regimental headquarters depot of the BUFFS located in Canterbury Barracks.

On my arrival at the station where I was to stop I got out and inquired of my way to the barracks and one of the railway officials said with a sneer “Oh so your a new redcoat and I certainly pity you”, at which I felt indignant. He still gave me directions and I was soon to find out that his pity was not altogether misplaced.

I walked quite a distance until I came upon the barracks. Two wooden guard boxes with occupants were at the large gate. I went up and just as I was ready to address them, the one on the left cried out, “man on foot, open for entrance, he then proceeded to bellow at me, to remove my cap. The door swung open, with the result that as I walked in I was surrounded by four soldiers dressed in red jackets who without any word marched me to a building marked with a sign saying NEW ENLISTMENTS ENTER HERE. I entered with my hat in one hand and my small case in the other.

I was told to stand in front of a desk, and to drop what I was holding. Several forms were filled in and I was told to pick up my possessions and follow a soldier to a building close by. Up to this point everything was going well. But it was here that all the silence ended. Some how they did not have any way of communicating unless it was by screaming in all the four lettered words known to man. I was given numerous items of clothing and burlap bag to slide them into.

Jackets, pants, boots great coats, hats, belts with pouches and polishing cream as well as socks, underwear. It was all creased and smelling of moth balls as well as human sweat. The odor of fecal matter emanated from several pieces of the clothing.

There were two other recruits behind me, who received the same treatment. WE now were overloaded with our own bag and the kit bag we were issued. I was taken over toa table where I signed for everything. Next a tall grisly looking man pushed us out onto a walkway and ordered for us to follow him. I learned immediately that no talking was allowed as he roared at one of the people in my group to “keep your eefing trap shut” when he asked when we were to eat.

We learned that this was Lance Corporal Groggins. He was a twenty-year veteran and his face was covered with terrible blotches and he constantly looked as he been struck by some horror from the beyond. We were taken to a barracks hall and told to take one of the top bunks for which there were no blankets or sheets. The mattress was filled with some unknown product. They smelled of urine with other bodily fluids mixed in. There were it seemed more than 100 double bunks in a cavern of a room. He showed us around, and we realized that our next several weeks was going to be in this hell hole that had four showers and two toilets for several recruits.

There were some sinks with a tap giving only cold water as well as some wash tubs .

Next, two women arrived with the sheets and a pillow case that were issued out to us and which were so dirty, no one could see what the original color had been. This opening to our first day was only just the beginning of our complete desolation. The next place we went was for dinner and it proved to be gruesome. Mostly a kind of soup with rotten potatoes and bread that had seen better days followed by the most terrible pudding ever delivered to mankind. We also found out that conversation had to be held to a whisper or else by another member of the growing military cast of characters. We were marched off to the barracks by a Corporal who we could say never had missed any meals and his name was Keast and he was the most foul mouthed person I had ever seen or heard in my short life. He was more like a wild animal because he constantly growled saying we were a bunch of useless pigs and things of that nature. We thought we were going to bed when we returned to the barracks. There were now nearly fifty men in the room, We now began the work of preparing for our duty the next day. Our uniform was to consist of some how pressing the burlap clothing we were given which were called work dress. a hat made of the same material was included in our bag of clothes. The boots were terrible, but the pants covered them. We had boot black to polish them and you had to see your face in them. When all the tasks were completed with much scorn and derision we fell upon our bunks, hoping to get some sleep. It seemed like it was only minutes before we were awakened, and had a short period to do our toilet and appear in front of the barrack block. We were shown several times how to come to attention, and other military commands which some of the fellows did not know their left from their right. The weather was warm and the heat from the sun began to cause us to swat profusely, soon a man with the meanest face I have ever seen appeared from no where and stood in front of us as we were at attention. He waited quite some time before he addressed us without any introduction.

The corporals stood like statutes in his presence. We soon learned he was Sergeant Roberts and he spoke in a horse voice that with every word sent a shiver down our spines.

“You are here to be soldiers. Some will learn the easy way others will be given special lessons” he shouted while pointing his stick at us. He spoke as they all did in a growl and he then ordered the Corporals to march us off to breakfast. This turned out to be another of our disappointments. It consisted of a kind of Gruel which was poured into a metal tin, that we learned we were to keep. We also got a metal cup for something sort of resembling coffee. A burnt piece of bread was also added to t his morning meal. We then found out that it was to last us to dinner. We had exactly 1/2 hour to eat wash our plates and cups and then back outside for two solid hours of drill.

WE had a 10-minute rest and we laid on the grass only to be told to stand up. It was then that another creature came into our midst. He was tall, wore a uniform like it was shaped to his body and carried a large pace stick which he clutched under his arm. He had a very sallow complexion and with every movement of his body demonstrated authority. He was introduced by the Sergeant who spoke his name like it were that of God.

“Sergeant Major Haddock will now say a few words.” he said almost in a whisper.

The man stepped forward and slammed his foot in a manner unseen by anyone before. When he began to speak, it was as if a great horror was going to befall us. It was the voice of doom spoken by a man who had reached the highest and exalted position ever produced by man kind. He spoke so loudly that just the depth of his voice was frightening. He was demonic, and with his words enough to make us terrified of what he could do to us.

We knew without any doubt that he was omnipotent. Not one soul within the hearing of his voice moved, the silence except for birds was unbelievable. Even they were afraid as they flew away, I could see two officers (I must guess at this point) stop in mid-stride and come to attention.

“You are here to become a loyal British Soldier; you are under my care and instruction. You will learn to obey immediately. You must understand that we are in service of the Queen we are soldiers of the Queen. There are hundreds of orders and rules to obey but just break any of them and I will see you be beaten to within a inch of your life.”

He stopped waiting to see if his instruction was sinking in. We stood for at least 45 minutes in the blazing sun with sweat pouring down all the crevices in our bodies and out of every pore in our body. Suddenly one of the men began to choke or gag. Haddock waited until the man stopped and then he walked up and took hold of the man’s hat and slapped him across the face several times.

“Get a hold of yourself man and never cough or sneeze in my presence”.

The man shook as if he were in total dread. Haddock stood looking at the man with the look of wild animal, waiting to begin eating his prey.

“Carry on Sergeant”

“Sir” the Sergeant screamed and Haddock took the man’s hat and threw it at him, we soon learned that this man who coughed would became the subject of all of our unbearable torment. His name was Higby and he had the intelligence of a seven-year-old.

Chapter 2

Higby

Until Ronald Donald Higby came into my life I had never had an up-close vision of Man’s inhumanity to Man. He was 18 years old as I was and was very much under average intelligence. For me it constantly begged the question as to how he had been enlisted in the army. I finally realized that all intents and purposes, he was really a moron. Yet he was treated as if he were intelligent and there was the stumbling block. He was unable to take direction very much. Like a lot of the men they enlisted he had no education and lacked the ability to think on his own. He was unable to read or write and he spoken word was at times a garble of words. He became the instant target of every person he met and especially the crew that were there to teach us to be soldiers. Their inability or hidden knowledge made the poor man the insufferable butt of their comments and his treatment. More than that the squad as we were known kept up a constant array of jabs at him both in conversation and physical torture.

We all received enormous torment but for Higby it went on day and night. He had become our diversion, for which he had no protection. Simply this, if you stepped forward to help him, you too were a dumb, stupid person along with him. It made sense, that every group needed a man who is the constant object of their disdain.

Every day the conditions under which we were undergoing training was so agonizing that you wanted to murder your tormentors. It was mid summer and the heat was oppressive, yet we drilled for hours, We had other training with exercise which went on for hours until, every muscle in your body screamed. We marched for miles through a forest with weeds nearby that scraped our bodies. We were held for hours without water and men fell by the wayside only to be kicked and clubbed by the greatest of our tormentors -the corporals. There was little question among us that they were totally evil. Higby bore the brunt of all our anger and could not understand why he was selected.

Chapter 3

Uniforms

For several weeks we wore work dress. We were then given instructions in the care and wearing of the Red Coat ceremonial battle dress. The British Army continued to wear the heavy and useless Red Coats which were made of serge and which had numerous attachments. For service overseas another uniform in Khaki had been developed and a new battle dress was being developed which was rough-hewn jacket and trousers that was worn with puttees and boots. The headdress was a cap also in a brownish color. A web belt was also added. The jacket had pockets and was attached at the neck. We were the first to receive the uniform and thankfully it was a simple matter of dressing almost like a regular suit. The Red Coats were saved as for dress uniforms. The pants on our daily dress were held up with suspenders. If one needed to lower the trousers it was a bit of a problem.

Trench war fare had not become part of the military lexicon and we were using the same type of military methods that the army used in the battle of Waterloo 1805.The fact was that the entire book on modern warfare had been written , regiments were slow to pick up on it. Officers coming from the military academy at Sandhurst were not yet employing the new standards, so there we were marching in long lines of soldiers which in the event of preparing for an attack were open to mass shootings from soldiers that remained undercover .We learned very few technical aspects of warfare but continued to be trained as if we were cannon fodder, Higby continued to be the object of our military dislike and bore the brunt of our superiors impatience with our inadequate ability to meet their ideas of being battle ready. He was struck by them at every opportunity along with others, Higby was singled out on every parade by the Sergeant and Corporals, but when Sgt Major Haddock reviewed their work, he used his pace stick across Higby’s back always careful to never strike his head. He was their marked man. In his defence he said nothing or complained, but we could see the marks when he showered. I was not the first to comment on the situation and spoke in whispers at our breaks. There was no doubt among us that he was at sometime going to break down and lose his sanity.

Chapter 4

Revenge

Usually after a hard day work, we slept like children. The only noise was grotesque snoring and farting. But after nearly two months the sound of a high pitched scream from Higby, we learned later that this is what is called by some doctors “primal scream” hollering in one’s sleep “mommy or daddy ” He did so almost every night and began to frighten us as it increased in volume. Our fear began to grow as he now began to keep us awake awaiting his next episode of bellowing into the night. The length of these related events often lasted for five minutes or more. I tried to take charge and have him moved to a corner of the barrack room, but it did no good. I asked to speak to Sergeant Roberts, and he refused, noting that we live and die together as a unit, we had no choice but to move his bunk to the washing room. Corporal Keast made us move it back in place every morning but it did permit some relief and we slept better. Higby was still being manhandled by all the staff. Ronald Higby began to mumble for one day when were in formation. There was very little question that he was growing mad. Sergeant Roberts did not recognize that Higby was losing his sanity and constantly screamed at him to shut up. Sgt Major Haddock struck him with his stick thus quieting him down. He was sent to the medical Doctor and given medication n which we suspected was a form of opium and was readily available from the apothecaries. In any event, the screaming and mumbling stopped.

After nearly two months of training we were issued with rifles for drill purposes. No ammunition was issued as yet, and we all waited until we were to have an opportunity to go to a range for firing. The rifles were stacked in the barrack room, and we learned how they were to be cleaned. It was a lengthy job, these were Lee-Enfield rifles. It was a 10-round bolt action repeating rifle using .303 bullets. The bullets were loaded into the barrel chamber and required the bolt action to fire each round. Once we learned the drill movements with the rifle, we were expected to have the rifle cleaned we were told we would be marched to the firing range. For some reason Higby suddenly became alert to the rifle. He had amazing trouble with rifle drill but immediately learned the cleaning process. His responses to the rifle handling were startling. I believe and it is said that everyone including one with limited intelligence have one virtue. It seemed that Higby was a man with whom his expertise laid with the use of a rifle.

When asked if he ever had used or experience in this regard, he simply said no.

We were marched in groups of eight to the firing range. I should explain that this was still marksmanship in the late 1800’s and had remained remarkably like earlier times. The targets were held up by 4 in turn in a trench from which you would never show your head. I was first selected for this employment and realized that none of us had any idea how to level the rifle and shoot at immoveable targets. The bullets whizzed around us but not one soul hit it anywhere. After taking ten useless shots it was our turn. Higby was in my team. He began firing after being given the order and with amazing accuracy hit the inside circle 8 times and the outside twice. It was then that Sgt. Roberts gave him additional bullets and with which he aimed and fired after each time using the bolt action 10 shots that hit the inside affording him a 100% mark. We all stood back in awe as he stood to attention with his Lee-Enfield at his side. It suddenly occurred to us all that we had marksman in our midst. But somehow, he never realized his gift. He just got in the line up and stood with us as we made our way back to the barracks. Suddenly it came to me , he was in fact a danger to us all with a weapon in his hands. In my own mind I saw the future,

We next moved into the next phase of rifle drill, the use of the bayonet and this was a perfect hoot. You had to run at a dummy filled with straw hanging from a pole and stab it with your bayonet. Higby missed several times, falling to the ground, but we all looked like a gang of chimney sweeps when we were finished. It was however the squad goat who got most of the wrath from the so called teachers. It was the final cut that sent Ronald Donald Higby over the edge.

First, I must explain the layout of the Canterbury Camp and the leadership. It was the training depot and at the time we do our military preparation, the “Buffs” were stationed in Malta where we expected to go, there were about 200 recruits at work in the camp in various stages of their training. When you entered the camp, a long walkway took you to the parade square and just beyond this huge paved lot were twelve barrack blocks. In the center of these buildings was the commissary and nearby the men’s mess hall. On the far side of the parade square was the NCO’s hall, and attached to that was the Sgt’s mess. The headquarters was at the back end of the camp near the Officer’s mess. The camp commander was Lieutenant Colonel Rodney Bradley-Brown. We had seen him only a few times, but he was a man who was grotesquely overweight. It took him at least 20 minutes to walk 20 feet. The Adjutant was in our eyes a most disagreeable man who had a sharp shrill voice, with only one level, loud and sickening. He wore a monocle and when he screamed, spit steamed from his mouth. If for any reason you had to go in front of him, most of us said better take the new slicker we were issued. His name was Capt. Pitman. He was in his twentieth year of service and had remained a captain according to our spy, message runner named Jimmy .

We marched twice each day to the firing range, we fired off 10 rounds and returned to the base. It was therefore interesting how anyone could have more than the allotted 10 .303 shells but somehow Higby found a way. For that I give him credit but not the way in which he used them.

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During bayonet practise, Sgt Major Haddock took to slapping any of us who missed the mark or fell. It was when Higby took his turn that Haddock became incensed, and began to kick him in the back, buttocks and stomach. It must have been very painful, and he lay on the ground for some minutes trying to breath. The man was unable to catch his breath and a stretcher was called for. the camp doctor appeared. He said nothing except applied smelling salts to Higby and he regained his breathing. It was natural on our part to think some action would be taken but nothing came of it and Higby was hospitalized. When he returned, we all felt a sense of relief because by now he was becoming our hero.

On the following Sunday after he returned, we had a free afternoon, most of us either slept or wrote letters. There was no pub for the recruits. We had not had a free day for weeks. The rifles were all stacked in the doorway of our block and without any warning Higby who had been sleeping without any warning jumped up and ran to the rifle pile and extracted his rifle and walked out of our block onto the edge of camp parade square. He was followed by two of our lot who yelled at his to get back in our block. But I spied him loading the gun and warned the others to stay clear.

Within moments we returned to the building and tried to hide under our beds. I went to the side window and saw Higby marching up and down on the square yelling out commands. It was surreal, I then went out of a side entrance and watched what I consider a man on a mission begin to unfold. First to appear on the scene was Cpl Groggins, He began issuing or orders to the culprit but Higby took aim and fired the rifle. Groggins was hit in the chest and sank to his knees, eventually falling over, dead I assumed. By now we were all shouting at Higby, but before we could stop him, he saw Sgt Roberts running from the Commissary, took aim and again hit his target in the. Roberts fell like a lead weight, next we saw one of the most stupid move any soldier can make. We had always been told to take cover from enemy fire power. Now we see Cpl Keast running towards our man at full speed straight up to Higby. He was downed with two shots the first hitting him in the side and the second downing him in the stomach. I t thought he was finished but his job was not complete. Just at that moment Lt Col Rodney Bradley- Brown rode through the gate in his hackney. He stopped to find out what was happening and without a murmur, Higby shot him and he fell right out of the hackney, Men began to appear out of their blocks but took cover when it was belted out that a soldier had gone berserk. Guards from the front gate came upon the scene of destruction but realizing that their opposition was armed quickly hid in the report building.

Higby began to march up and down with his rifle on his shoulder screaming orders and constantly saying his name repeatedly.

“Higby this and Higby that. Higby you are a useless man, you are an idiot, you are a dumb, stupid, dense.”

He used every four-letter word he knew. But I could see Sgt Major Haddock now running from the Sgt’s mess. He had a pistol, it looked to me like the Wembley he was often seen carrying in a holster. He took aim and fired but missed Higby by a mile. He shot again, and Higby fell to the ground but this was so he could take aim. Haddock suddenly realized he was in trouble and began to run for the closest building. But it was too late, the marksman, plowed him with two shots, quickly firing two shots one which caught Haddock in his back and the other in the buttocks as he fell. Next shots came from a window in the building facing the square on east side near the men’s mess hall. At first, I was unable to determine who or what were firing, but our

HERO took a prone position again and fired and the return rifle shots stopped.

In my calculations he may have had three shots left. We all waited in a stunned horror, having seen a military action against our own leadership. Again, Higby arose and marched up and down and the return gun shots commenced again from windows in a building on the west side of the square. Now our man took cover behind the saluting base, he was still bellowing out commands which he sang out his own name with additives such as fool , dim wit, moron, poor excuse for a man, all in all the names that the dead men had contrived to attack his intelligence.

I now saw a small group of soldiers led by the adjutant racing out to the row of trees no farther than 50 feet from where Higby had taken concealment. Capt. Pitman was armed with a Webley revolver and fired indiscriminately at the area he thought Higby was hiding.

“Come out of there man and drop your rifle immediately and that is an order.” It proved to be useless because Higby now had the direction to fire and shot Captain Pitman in the arm, He fell and to everyone’s amazement cried out “we surrender, drop your guns men.”

He began to bleed profusely and told one of the squads “you take over Lance Corporal Murphy” and he limped away holding his arm. Murphy then ordered the squad to back up and run to an enclosure of the nearest building. There they waited for further orders. But except for the Captain not a soul was in charge. I did however see Haddock crawl away and was helped to the Medical clinic by an orderly. Higby remained in position and before long he began marching up and down and began saluting the empty platform and shouting orders.

I now noticed that two armed soldiers creep out of the Building marked 4 block and began to take aim at Ronald Donald, but he was just too quick and fired off what I thought were his last two shots in rifle chamber. From my vantage point I could not see if they had hit him or he had shot them. He again marched up and down, but by now he was beginning to become exhausted.

He shouted out several more commands and remained silent. I could not see very well as the sun was beginning to set, but we could hear the sound of boots pounding up towards the saluting base. . We learned later that a troop of soldiers from the headquarters had been armed and under the command of the bandaged adjutant who had sustained a bullet wound were charging the culprit. Suddenly we heard one shot which I guessed correctly was Higby’s last bullet, at least remaining in the breech of the gun. He had spared his last bullet for himself as he stuck the rifle in his mouth and some how killed himself. We heard voices, but did not see the mayhem. Most of our group had been under their beds, but me and another mate of Higby’s walked out of the quarters.

The orderly Corporal who we knew as Walsh, trotted over to us,

“The sod has done himself in and evaded the hangman” he told us.

“Best to get back in your block until further orders are passed down from the adjutant. The orderlies are picking up the CO and the rest ” he said lighting up a smoke.

We returned to Barracks and told the rest what had happened. The one thing that most of the men said was Sgt Major Haddock would never live down getting shot in the ass while running away from the action.

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Chapter 5

The Consequences

As I write this story the date is August 15th, 1929 It happened 38 years ago at Canterbury. I stayed in the army for 38 years and retired only 6 months ago. I am probably the last soldier alive that remembers the incident which never appeared in newspapers and was quietly covered up. I survived WW1, in trenches of France and fought in several campaigns where we lost thousands. Although I had no choice but to join the army, despite all the drawbacks I soldiered on, signing on 7 years at a time.

There was a board of inquiry regarding the murders and what led to Higby’s madness. As was forecast Sgt Major Haddock could not live down being shot in the backside and he retired to a cottage somewhere. None of the other troops in the Headquarters camp were called to testify, and we were told that it would make both Regiment and the army look bad, as if they were thought of in any other way. I was permitted to marry after ten years just after WW1 ended but I chose to not do so. My pay after the war was just adequate for one person. I did have few overseas postings to Germany, Hong Kong and to Canada as a driver for the British Embassy in Ottawa. I now have my mind set on moving to Bermuda, which is a British colony and where I can obtain employment as a guard at the Governor’s residence. Not many days go by when Ronald Donald Higby does not cross my mind. Every one of his inquisitors deserved to be shot, some more than others, their fate for a very few hours rested in his hands. He took advantage of the one and only skill he had, his ability to fire a rife and hit a target!