A parting shot that was below the belt

ARRIVING at my artillery unit fresh from training, I was accosted by the regimental sergeant major. ‘My office, lad, now.’ Then it was: ‘Great coat off, jump on those scales, stand still . . . ah, great, light welter.’ ‘What’s light welter?’ I asked. ‘It’s a boxing weight, lad. I’m a light welter short and you’ll do nicely.’ ‘But I don’t box, sir.’ He smiled, looking as happy as a vulture with fresh roadkill. ‘Oh, don’t worry son, we’ll teach you. There’s a whole ten days before your fight.’ I still looked nervous, so he told me: ‘Your opponent’s only a little fellow, you’ll beat him easy.’ He neglected to tell me this ‘little fellow’ had been boxing since he was ten. Fight night, and as I sat in the dressing room I could hear bloodthirsty yells coming from the gymnasium. ‘Stop ’is ’eart, ’enry. Butcher ’im, Bert.’ Boxers were being helped out of the ring, bloodied and dazed. Then they called me. I crept into the ring. My opponent was indeed shorter than me, but squat and powerful looking. Round one I landed a good ’un. I grew in confidence and went in. Wham, I was on my back. ‘Four, five, six,’ I heard the ref say. What happened to one, two, three? I saw the RSM glowering at me from under the ropes. That galvanised me into action: I leapt to my feet — the wrath of my opponent would never match his. The second round passed in a blur. In the third we were both convinced we could win and stood toe to toe, slogging it out. The bell went. He’d won. Well, he was much the better boxer. after the finals the following night, the names of the winners were called and they went up to collect their cups from the colonel. Then, last of all, my name was called. Puzzled, I made my way to the ring and told the sergeant: ‘There must be a mistake, sir, I lost.’ ‘There’s no mistake, lad,’ he told me, ‘you’ve won the best loser’s cup.’ My chest swelled with pride — best loser, eh? I couldn’t have been that bad then. His next words deflated me with a blow harsher than any my opponent had delivered: ‘They always give that prize to the eejit who takes the biggest pounding.’

J. A. Milligan, Oldham, Lancs.