Chapter Fifty Seven plan and was the first to put my name forward as a contestant. I think about 85% of the available boys signed the form underneath me, a truly remarkable feat and it was in that gesture of solidarity that I knew we could win the Cup. As though scripted by a comedian my opponent was called Kill, a large lad from Cambrai Troop and our bout was halfway down the bill. My silent prayer was not to win but to get out of ring at the end of the encounter with my dignity still in place; the scalp of a Boy/Sergeant must have seemed an attractive proposition. Kill turned out to be a gentle individual and for the best part of the first round we parried round the ring like a couple of ballet dancers neither of us keen to hurt the other. The referee – QMSI Slater - was having none of this; stopped the fight pointing out that this event was called a boxing match; Kill mumbled “Sorry” in my ear and the real fight commenced. To my credit I managed to last for most of the second round in a three round contest but Kill had skill and towards the end of that second round he knocked me to the floor with a fist I never even saw coming. I wasn’t about to get up in a hurry, but the referee could see that I was totally outclassed and stopped the fight on the spot, declaring Kill a worthy winner; I retained my dignity for effort and vowed never to enter a boxing ring again. Dettingen, as a troop, performed well in the tournament and interestingly a couple of lads who had never boxed before turned out to be naturals and became part of the Squadron boxing team. By now I thought that we had done more than enough to win the Cup but there was still the final obstacle left, the Troop sketch at the end of which, each performance would be judged and finally the year’s winner declared. I certainly had neither the knowledge nor flair for such a production nor apparently had any of my NCOs. However I was determined that our revue would be as
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