toes, two heads, are pigeon-chested, wall-eyed, still have to be breast fed or have a touch of the clap, speak up now?”
Bokumbo enjoyed the joke and laughed out loud. Stevens gave a weak little giggle and Bartlett decided that the best thing to do was humour the silly old sod, so he roared with laughter. But McGrath and Roberts remained deadpan and seemingly indifferent. Wilson smiled grimly to himself then swung round and gave the Commandant a splendid salute. “Five prisoners all present and correct, sir.”
The Commandant acknowledged the salute, nodded his head and walked away.
Williams doubled out of the M.O.’s room. “Ready for medical inspection, sir.”
“Right, Staff.” The R.S.M. turned to the prisoners. “Parade, parade ’shun. Let’s have that again and I want to see you move. Stand at ease. Parade, parade ’shun. Stand still. Still, I said. By God, I’ll have you all smartened up before the week’s out and in a bath. You stink! You all stink! Bokumbo, three paces forward march. Still, stand still. On the order of command you’ll double into the Medical Room and you’ll mark time. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everything’s done at the double inside here. You don’t walk. You double.”
Bokumbo grinned. “Sir. How can that medical officer examine me if I’m doubling?”
“He’s clever. He used to repair watches. Now take that grin off your face. You’ll mark time in front of him and at the word of command drop your trousers, make him jealous, and double out again. Got that?”
Bokumbo laughed again. “You never spoke truer words, sir. I’ve got my share.”
“Shut your trap. If you had less of that and more brains you wouldn’t be here. Now, let’s see you move Bokumbo. Forward double, lef right, lef’ right. Get them knees up. Get ’em up higher, higher I said.” Bokumbo and Wilson ran into the M.O.’s room.
Captain Markham seated at his table turned as the door opened and watched Bokumbo marking time.
“Keep marking time,” shouted Wilson. “Prisoner reporting for medical inspection, sir.”
“Name and number,” said Markham as he faced Bokumbo.
“736 Private Bokumbo, sir.”
“Shirt off.”
Still marking time Bokumbo pulled his shirt over his head and then wondered what he should do with it.
“Drop it on the floor,” snapped Markham, “and take your vest off.”
Bokumbo slipped out of his vest and dropped his clothes on the floor.
“Lift your arms in the air.” Markham looked under Bokumbo’s armpits, then at his chest. “Drop your arms. Open your fingers.” Markham examined between Bokumbo’s fingers. “Right, drop your trousers.” Bokumbo undid his shorts and dropped them. This made marking time rather more difficult but he did the best he could. “Turn around.” Bokumbo turned around. Markham examined his back. “Bend forward.” Jesus Christ, thought Bokumbo, bending forward and still doing his best to mark time. What’s he expect to find up there? “Any serious illnesses?” enquired Markham. Funny place to look for serious illnesses, thought Bokumbo. “No, sir.”
“V.D.?” asked Markham.
Bokumbo half turned to look at him.
“The Medical Officer will tell you when to turn,” said the R.S.M.
“No, sir,” said Bokumbo, “I’ve never had a packet.”
“Turn around,” said Markham and as Bokumbo turned he picked up his swagger cane and lifted Bokumbo’s penis with it and examined it.
“Don’t drop it with a crash, sir,” begged Bokumbo. “You might break my leg.”
“Shut up,” roared the R.S.M.
Markham smiled. “Get dressed. Passed fit, Sergeant-Major, for all punishment and duties. Next.”
“Forward,” shouted the R.S.M. Then even louder, “Mark time, you lunatic. You can’t double with your trousers hanging round your boots. Pull ’em up. Come on. Double.”
Laughing, Bokumbo ran through the open doorway. The R.S.M. picked up Bokumbo’s shirt and vest and followed him and threw the clothes into
Bokumbo enjoyed the joke and laughed out loud. Stevens gave a weak little giggle and Bartlett decided that the best thing to do was humour the silly old sod, so he roared with laughter. But McGrath and Roberts remained deadpan and seemingly indifferent. Wilson smiled grimly to himself then swung round and gave the Commandant a splendid salute. “Five prisoners all present and correct, sir.”
The Commandant acknowledged the salute, nodded his head and walked away.
Williams doubled out of the M.O.’s room. “Ready for medical inspection, sir.”
“Right, Staff.” The R.S.M. turned to the prisoners. “Parade, parade ’shun. Let’s have that again and I want to see you move. Stand at ease. Parade, parade ’shun. Stand still. Still, I said. By God, I’ll have you all smartened up before the week’s out and in a bath. You stink! You all stink! Bokumbo, three paces forward march. Still, stand still. On the order of command you’ll double into the Medical Room and you’ll mark time. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everything’s done at the double inside here. You don’t walk. You double.”
Bokumbo grinned. “Sir. How can that medical officer examine me if I’m doubling?”
“He’s clever. He used to repair watches. Now take that grin off your face. You’ll mark time in front of him and at the word of command drop your trousers, make him jealous, and double out again. Got that?”
Bokumbo laughed again. “You never spoke truer words, sir. I’ve got my share.”
“Shut your trap. If you had less of that and more brains you wouldn’t be here. Now, let’s see you move Bokumbo. Forward double, lef right, lef’ right. Get them knees up. Get ’em up higher, higher I said.” Bokumbo and Wilson ran into the M.O.’s room.
Captain Markham seated at his table turned as the door opened and watched Bokumbo marking time.
“Keep marking time,” shouted Wilson. “Prisoner reporting for medical inspection, sir.”
“Name and number,” said Markham as he faced Bokumbo.
“736 Private Bokumbo, sir.”
“Shirt off.”
Still marking time Bokumbo pulled his shirt over his head and then wondered what he should do with it.
“Drop it on the floor,” snapped Markham, “and take your vest off.”
Bokumbo slipped out of his vest and dropped his clothes on the floor.
“Lift your arms in the air.” Markham looked under Bokumbo’s armpits, then at his chest. “Drop your arms. Open your fingers.” Markham examined between Bokumbo’s fingers. “Right, drop your trousers.” Bokumbo undid his shorts and dropped them. This made marking time rather more difficult but he did the best he could. “Turn around.” Bokumbo turned around. Markham examined his back. “Bend forward.” Jesus Christ, thought Bokumbo, bending forward and still doing his best to mark time. What’s he expect to find up there? “Any serious illnesses?” enquired Markham. Funny place to look for serious illnesses, thought Bokumbo. “No, sir.”
“V.D.?” asked Markham.
Bokumbo half turned to look at him.
“The Medical Officer will tell you when to turn,” said the R.S.M.
“No, sir,” said Bokumbo, “I’ve never had a packet.”
“Turn around,” said Markham and as Bokumbo turned he picked up his swagger cane and lifted Bokumbo’s penis with it and examined it.
“Don’t drop it with a crash, sir,” begged Bokumbo. “You might break my leg.”
“Shut up,” roared the R.S.M.
Markham smiled. “Get dressed. Passed fit, Sergeant-Major, for all punishment and duties. Next.”
“Forward,” shouted the R.S.M. Then even louder, “Mark time, you lunatic. You can’t double with your trousers hanging round your boots. Pull ’em up. Come on. Double.”
Laughing, Bokumbo ran through the open doorway. The R.S.M. picked up Bokumbo’s shirt and vest and followed him and threw the clothes into
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