'JANKERS' (The Third Day)

1. The next morning I was awakened, it seemed, by the strangeness of my surroundings. The bed I was occupying was not my own; neither was I in my old familiar bedroom, and, most perplexing of all, sleeping bodies surrounded me.

2. Of course, I remembered, I was now one of His Majesty's infantrymen.

3. I lay quietly, pondering the events of the previous day. I certainly didn't want to continue the way I had started. Ideally I would like to find a way to become invisible, but failing that I resolved to become unidentifiable within the platoon, and to try my hardest not to attract the attention of anyone with the rank above that of private.

4. I bugle sounding Reveille interrupted my thoughts and the sound had barely faded into silence when, right on cue, the door burst open and Sgt. Parker and Cpl. Tomkins entered to give us an encore of their previous morning's performance. Again we were exhorted, encouraged, and bullied awake and, with much heartfelt grumbling, we prepared ourselves for another day.

5. At 8 a.m., resplendent in our new uniforms, we marched to the parade ground and took our places with the other platoons for regimental assembly. By 8:30 we had been reported present and correct, and were back in our barracks. The rest of the morning was to be spent stencilling our names and serial numbers on every piece of equipment and clothing we had, using stencils and ink provided by Sgt. Parker.

6. Since my name contains only four letters I was one of the first to finish the marking chore; settling back on my bed, I prepared to enjoy the frustration of those with a dozen or so letters to stencil.

7. My enjoyment was brief. Sgt. Parker suddenly appeared at the foot of my bed, his neckless head thrust forward in my direction. "Well, well; what exactly do you think you are doing, you dozey man?" he asked loudly enough for everyone to hear.

8. I sprang to my feet. This was disaster. After my early morning decision to become anonymous, the last thing I wanted was Parker's or anyone else's personal attention! In less than four hours I had failed miserably in my new resolution.

9. Sgt. Parker posed his question again. "Well, what do you think you are doing?!" he bellowed.

10. "Resting, Sergeant?" It was more a question vainly seeking approval than an answer. His eyes flashed, his face turned scarlet, and I knew I had made a serious tactical error. "This dozey old lady is resting," he loudly informed the room full of suddenly silent and motionless youths, each one grateful that I, and not they, was the victim of the sergeant's anger.

11. "Corporal Tomkins!" Parker called, and the corporal approached from the far end of the room. "Take this man to the Mess Hall, give the duty cook sergeant my compliments, and tell him to put this man to work. I don't want to set eyes on him again until 1200 hours."

12. "Come on," Tomkins ordered, and grabbing my cap I followed him outside and fell into step beside him.

13. We marched together in silence for several minutes. "You must always look busy," he said abruptly. "No matter where you are, or what you are supposed to be doing, you must always look busy. It's the only way you can hope to stay out of trouble in the Army."

14. I thought it best not to point out to the corporal that I had already found ways of getting into trouble in the Army that "looking busy" wouldn't have helped a bit.

15. "Thanks, Corporal," I answered instead, and mentally filed his advice with that of my father regarding volunteering.

16. We neared the Mess; passing the main entrance, we made our way to the rear of the building, entering through wide, open double doors.

17. I looked about me in amazement. I was in the largest kitchen I had ever seen. Everywhere, cooks were moving around gleaming stainless steel sinks, dishwashers, ovens, and tables in steamy confusion.

18. Just inside the door a huge man dressed in white, with sergeant's stripes on a khaki band around his arm, was seated at a large, cluttered desk. He stood and turned to Cpl. Tomkins and me as we entered, and in a voice that matched his size asked, "What can I do for you lads today?"

19. Cpl. Tomkins delivered Sgt. Parker's compliments and message, and with a sorrowful look at me, marched through the door and disappeared outside.

20. "What's your name, lad?" the cook sergeant asked.

21. I told him, together with my Army serial number which I had decided would be prudent to memorize and use.

22. "The name is familiar," he said, and turning to his desk, started to rummage through piles of paper. He finally retrieved one sheet and waved it in the air between us.

23. His florid face was the color of a newly-ripened tomato, and a pair of light blue eyes sparkled from above a generous stack of chins. His immense girth was almost frightening, and I was sure his waist measurement exceeded his height. He obviously enjoyed the consumption of food, and, as I was to find out, the preparation of it.

24. With a big grin he jabbed and index finger at the sheet of paper he was waving and chortled, "You are on my jankers list for tonight!"

25. "What is 'jankers', Sergeant?" I hesitantly questioned.

26. "Jankers, my boy, is Army slang for the extra duty punishment given to defaulters, like you," he boomed. "How long have you been a soldier that you don't know that?"

27. "Two days, Sergeant," I apologized.

28. "To days!" he exclaimed, and took another glance at the paper in his hand. "Two days?" he repeated. "Is that all.... It says here you have 26 jankers days to do. Who did you upset to get yourself 26 days punishment your first two days in the Army?"

29. He seemed genuinely interested in my story, so I told him as briefly as I could, and as I talked, his merriment became louder and louder.

30. I finally reached the end of my narrative. Roaring with stomach-quivering laughter, the sergeant turned to a corporal who was busily arranging peeled potatoes in a large baking pan.

31. "It seems we have a one-man crime wave among us," he hooted, and repeated the pertinent facts of my rapid downfall as the corporal walked toward us, grinning broadly.

32. The sergeant finally gained control of himself long enough to instruct the corporal, "Let him help you until 1200 hours," and he turned back to his desk and started to laugh again.

33. I worked with the corporal for the rest of the morning, arranging potatoes, filling big pots with water and already-prepared vegetables, and listening intently as the corporal explained the inner workings of that vast kitchen. I met and joked with a few of the cooks, and was actually sorry when the time arrived for me to report back to my platoon.

34. A few minutes later I was back in the Mess, only this time on the receiving side of the counter, with plate in hand.

35. "You back already?" smiled one of my new-found cook friends as he placed an extra large piece of meat on my proffered plate. "Here, you worked on these this morning," said another as he served me an extra baked potato. In a short while I was seated at a table with a heaping plate of food that was the envy of my companions.

36. That afternoon, those of us who had finished stencilling our equipment were put through our paces on the parade square starting, stopping, turning, wheeling, and marching until every member of the platoon had joined us.

37. Sgt. Parker then took us to the auditorium where we had been welcomed by our captain a two-day eternity ago, and we were treated to a lecture and slide presentation on the magnificent opportunities awaiting us in the "Modern British Army."

38. "Are there any questions? asked Sgt. Parker as the show came to an end and the lights were switched back on. Silence was the reply.

39. "Does anyone have any idea what they might like to do during their service time?" he questioned. We looked at each other, but nobody spoke.

40. "What about you, dozey man," and with dismay I saw Sgt. Parker's finger pointed directly at me.

41. "Well, Sergeant," I started. Images of a happy, fat sergeant; of good-natured ribbing between soldiers who enjoyed their work--and especially of heaping plates of good food-- passed rapidly before my eyes. "I think I'd like to be a cook."

42. Sgt. Parker actually smiled. "I expect you'll have plenty of opportunity to decide of that's what you want in the next few weeks," he said, and I knew exactly what he meant.

43. At that moment a young second lieutenant entered the room and stood beside. Parker. Salutes were exchanged and the sergeant announced, "I want you all to meet our Platoon Officer, Second Lieutenant Reed." Reed said a few words that I did not hear, as I was appalled to realize this was the same officer who had been so put out at my crossing the parade square the day before. I also couldn't help but notice his look of recognition as his eyes wandered over his platoon.

44. At last our afternoon training session was over, and I again stood in line in the mess hall line with the rest of my platoon.

45. "See you later," said a cook as he piled food on my outstretched plate. "Don't be late," admonished another with a smile as he filled my tea mug. I assured them I would be on time, and sat down to eat another generous meal, ignoring the rather pointed remarks of my jealous messmates.

46. The evening meal over, I hurried back to the barracks room. I knew I had to report for punishment parade at 1900 hours, and I had no idea when I would be finished. I also realized my boots had to be polished, my brass buttons and buckles must be buffed, and the rest of my equipment cleaned in readiness for the next morning's regimental parade.

47. For the next 45 minutes I dashed bout like a man possessed. Before seven o'clock I had everything in order and, redressed in a khaki denim work uniform, stood in front of C Company office with about a dozen other miscreants as a bugler sounded the "Defaulters" call.

48. A corporal appeared at the office door with a clipboard in his hand. "Fall in and answer when I call your name," he instructed. We fell is, he called, and we answered. He then marched s to the back door of the Mess and for the second time that day I was face to face with the Sergeant of the Chins.

49. "Can't stay away, can you?" he laughed and, jabbing me in the chest with a sausage-like finger, ordered, "You stay here."

50. I waited while he marched the rest of the group around the kitchen and Mess Hall, assigning them to cleaning work in two's and three's until all of them were busy.

51. The sergeant returned to where I was still sitting. "Come with me," he said, and I followed him to a row of six gleaming stainless steel dishwashing machines. "Since you are going to be with us for a while, I thought it would be a good idea if you learned something," he explained. He then showed me how to load dirty plates from which someone else had hosed the food particles; how to operate the controls; and how to load the clean plates onto rubber-tired carts and park them at the head of the serving counter.

52. It didn't take me long to realize that this was a real piece of cake, and I set about my duties with considerable enthusiasm but very little skill.

53. I was unloading and stacking my first load of clean plates when Sgt. "Chins" approached me, accompanied by a corporal I had not seen before.

54. "This is the villain I was telling you about," he said to the corporal, indicating me with a smile and a wave of his hand. "This is the night duty cook, who will be in charge of you from now on," he added for my benefit, and with a cheerful "goodnight" he turned and walked away.

55. "Watcha mate, you doin' alright? the new arrival greeted me. I couldn't believe my ears! A kindred Cockney accent amid the sea of West Country brogue!

56. "Yes, thanks, Corporal."

57. "We got anuvver Cockney then do we?" the corporal asked.

58. I answered affirmatively and told him where I lived in London. It turned out he had been raised in an area about a mile from my neighborhood. We found we had been entertained in the same cinemas, that we'd danced at the same dance hall, and that we'd enjoyed the same beer in some of the same pubs.

59. "Come and see me when you are finished," he suggested, and moved off to check on the progress of the rest of his jankers squad.

60. In what seemed like minutes, but was actually almost two hours, I had all the plates cleaned and stacked, and the dishwashers wiped down inside and out. Walking over to the desk, I waited for the corporal, who was inspecting the work of the other defaulters before dismissing them.

61. "You in a hurry?" he asked as he came toward me.

62. I shook my head. "Not really, but I suppose I have to be back with the platoon before 'lights out,' don't I?"

63. "Don't worry about it, you have an hour yet," he looked at his watch. "Well, almost. Want some tea, are you hungry?"

64. I of course said yes to the tea, and assured him I was always ready to eat.

65. He filled two mugs with tea, handed me one, and disappeared through the door of the large cool-room. In a few moments he returned, carrying a handful of eggs and two thick slices of ham. "Come on, mate," he called. "I'll give you your first cooking lesson."

66. We soon had a couple of pans going and in no time were sitting down to our ham and eggs, accompanied by bread baked that afternoon and unlimited quantities of strong, sweet tea. For the first time since I had left home, I felt comfortable and at ease.

67. "Twenty-six days extra duty in only two days," the corporal mused almost to himself, and then, directly to me, "You must've got up somebody's bloody nose pretty bad to get 26 days, didn't you?"

68. I assured him I had no idea whose nose I had invaded, but that jankers didn't seem that difficult to accumulate.

69. "I know one thing, Corporal," I added with a mouth full of delicious ham, "This punishment doesn't seem half bad to me," and we both roared with laughter.

70. "You know, I thought I had trouble when I first joined the Army," he said. "But I only managed 17 days punishment in the first week, and here you've still got four days 'til your first week is over!"

71. We finished our meal and talked for a while, mostly about London. "It's getting late," he finally announced, looking at his watch. "You'd better cut along now and I'll see you tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow." And we both grinned at his ribbing.

72. That night I fell on my cot completely exhausted, and within seconds I was in a deep sleep. I would have liked to have slept the night through, but about the third time I awoke I resolved never again to drink that much tea so late in the day.