GIVE HIM ENOUGH ROPE

I sometimes wonder if things happened the way I remember them. Did I witness them, hear about them and then exaggerate the details, or just dream them into reality? One such incident I have had in mind since 1948 must have been second-hand because it happened in Wayne's Keep, Nicosia before I joined the 1st Battalion South Wales Borderers in Cyprus. I have often chuckled over the situation where a temporary camp commandant found himself on a collision course with an irate district commander. A few weeks before I retired I was able to test the efficacy of my mind when one of the players came into my office in Brecon Barracks.

He was about to introduce himself, when I exclaimed: "Jack Medlicott!" He seemed surprised that I remembered him after such a long time and it was obvious that any memories he had of me had been discarded long ago. He was accompanied by his wife and I spent the next half hour showing them some of the interesting things in the Regimental Museum of which I was Curator. They then wandered around on their own for the rest of the afternoon before returning to my office at closing time to say farewell.

We shook hands, vowed to keep in touch and then, as he was about to leave, he said: "Do you know what happened to Brigadier Anstice?" I told him that I believed the brigadier had gone to live in Kyrenia when he retired. I paused for a moment and said: "Wasn't there some trouble between you and him over a dog?" Jack gasped: "Good Lord, do you remember that business?" In answer to his question, I related the incident as if he was a third person: "The Brigadier telephoned the Commanding Officer of the South Wales Borderers in Famagusta and asked him if he could borrow one of his officers for a week to be acting camp commandant at his headquarters in Wayne's Keep. The incumbent, it seemed, had been taken sick and was bedded down in the local British Military Hospital. The CO agreed and gave orders to Jack Medlicott to proceed forthwith.

Jack arrived at Wayne's Keep during the forenoon and was directed to the brigadier's office. He was told that the camp was filthy and had to be smartened. Stray dogs, in particular, were a nuisance and he was given instructions to destroy any that were not wearing collars. A few other terse instructions were issued, and he was dismissed to attend to his duties.

Jack ordered the Provost Sergeant to accompany him on his inspection of the camp and found that the place was worse than the Brigadier had described. As they approached the cookhouse, a collection of dogs were scavenging at the swill bins. One of them was slower than the rest at making a getaway and the Provost Sergeant threw a rope around its collarless neck. Jack gave instructions for it to be shot. As he was heading for the officers' mess for lunch, he heard a single pistol shot from the area of the thirty yards shooting range.
Brigadier Anstice was standing in the ante room with a glass of beer in his hand, asking if anyone had seen his dog, which always accompanied him to the mess at lunch time. When Jack was told that the Brigadier's dog was a large black Labrador, he began to feel that his instruction to the provost sergeant to kill a similar animal might have been precipitate. His worst fears were realised and Jack's appointment as acting camp commandant was terminated forthwith. He was back in 1/SWB officers' mess for tea."
Jack listened to my account of his misfortune with amazement. "That's just what happened," he said.

I'm pleased that my memory, on that occasion - at least, proved to be accurate.