Extract from Chapter 2 WHEN THE BUGLES CALL (part 1 of 2)

 Extract from Chapter 2 WHEN THE BUGLES CALL   

 (1913 – Carlisle) 

By Bob French

August quickly came to an end and September brought rain and cold winds from the north.  The up-roar about the Labour Platoon winning the combat trophy gradually faded away as something more important filled the minds of the men of the Second Battalion.  The news that half the men from B Company of the First Battalion of the Royal Cumberland Fusiliers stationed out in India, had gone down with Cholera and, according to the Medical Officer’s report, many would not survive.  This meant that the Second Battalion, which existed to support the First Battalion should reinforcements be needed, had to step in and fill any gaps.  The responsibility of this task fell on the shoulders of the young Adjutant and with the Chief Clerk and his small staff, had studied the records of every available man fit enough to be posted to the First Battalion  

Towards the end of September, Sergeant Bateman, having had a lengthy meeting with Major Wilberforce, going over some of the tactics used by the labour platoon during battle camp, decided to call a meeting.

“Listen up lads.  Ah just had a meeting with the Training Officer, Major Wilberforce, like.  He’s very interested in what we did to win the combat trophy and wants to sit in on one of our training sessions.”

He waited for any response to the idea, but his men remained silent. 

“Ah knows how ye feels at how the rest o’ the battalion is treating you fer winning, but he thinks you can do some real good if we goes to war like.  What do you think lads?”  

What does he want to know Sarg?”

“Not sure.  We’ll just have ta wait an see, like.”

The battalion Chief Clerk, Warrant Officer Class 2 (WOII) Perkins, had informed those who commanded exercise platoons during the annual combat exercise that they were required to attend a meeting in the CO’s office at 1400 hours on Monday the 29^th September. He also held up the publication of battalion Daily Routine Orders, until after the meeting ended, in case there were any changes to the outcome of the battalion battle camp.

Colonel Wessex, accompanied by his Adjutant, Captain Farrington, entered the battalion conference room just after 1400 hours on Monday afternoon. Before he even sat down, everyone in the room knew something was amiss by the tone of his voice.

“Good afternoon gentlemen.  Now what the hell is all this nonsense about the wrong team winning the combat exercise?”  No one spoke for nearly a minute.  The silence was broken by Major Myers, the second in command (2IC).

“I have spoken to most of the platoon commanders Sir, and they feel that the winners, the 13^th platoon, cheated and therefore should forfeit the trophy.

He turned to the officer responsible for organizing the battalion annual camp; Major Jack Wilberforce DSO. “Just update me on how the exercise was conducted, please.”

Major Jack Wilberforce was, as well as being the Officer Commanding (OC) Headquarters Company, was also the Battalion Training Office.  A man blessed with a wealth of experience, having served in virtually every country occupied by British and Commonwealth forces and had medals to show for it. But this had cost him his wife and only child, who died of cholera out in India.

Major Wilberforce glanced down at his notes. “Sir, to ensure that each platoon was organized on a level playing field, the men from each rifle company were split up so each exercise platoon was filled with no more than three men from their original rifle company.  This ensured fairness throughout.  Each platoon was commanded by either a SNCO or a subaltern.  Their task was to initially defend their camp and the pendent from being captured by another platoon, and at the same time, use their battlefield skills, to raid another platoon and capture their pendent.  The team who captured the most enemy pendants would be declared the winner of the combat exercise.”

“So, what was the final tally of pendants captured by the various platoons?”

“Numbers 2^nd and 14^th platoons, Sir, took one pendent each, the 4^th and 6^th platoons, captured two pendants each. The 9^th platoon, three pendants and the winners with five pendants was the 13^th Platoon Sir.”

The Colonel turned to his Chief Clerk. “Mr. Perkins, you were in charge of the umpire team, did you or any of your team report any cheating to you during the exercise?”

Warrant Officer, Perkins, who had risen up through the ranks to be come the Orderly Room Quartermaster Sergeant (ORQMS) and the most respected man in the battalion, responsible, along side the Adjutant, for running the administration of the battalion, Stood, then glanced down at his notes.

“Sir, the answer is yes, and no?”  Instantly people around the table started to mutter. Please allow me to explain Sir. The rules governing the conduct of the annual combat exercise were simple and very clear.  ‘There was to be no violence, no discharge of weapons within thirty yards of any man, prisoners may be taken but treated with respect and every person involved in the exercise was to wear a coloured arm band.”

Just then Second Lieutenant Wilberforce jumped up from his seat and pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Perkins.  “The 13^th platoon kept changing their arm bands during the fight. That’s cheating!”

“Sit down Lieutenant Wilberforce!  Whatever next! If you cannot conduct yourself in the proper manner, then I must ask you to leave. Please carry on Mr. Perkins.”

The Adjutant smiled to himself.  Now he knew who would be ‘duty officer’ covering the two weeks over Christmas and the New Year period.

Mr. Perkins continued.  “The umpire team inspected the locations of the platoon’s camp for safety and emergency access routes, in the event of someone being seriously injured.”

“Who knew the location of the platoon camps?”

“No one Sir.  I was informed that Major Wilberforce only released the locations to Sergeant Smith of the transport section, on the morning of the exercise.  Each platoon had to map read their selves to their location and to be ready by mid-day. 

Colonel Wessex, the CO had asked Mr. Perkins, the Battalion Chief Clerk and chief umpire to the annual combat exercise of the Royal Cumberland Fusiliers to comment on what he saw during the exercise during a special meeting called by the CO..

 “Who commanded the 13^th platoon?”

The Adjutant slipped a sheet of paper in front of his CO, who nodded his thanks.

“Sergeant Bateman.”  He looked up as Sergeant Bateman quickly stood, and came to attention.

“Sir.”

“Please sit-down Sergeant Bateman.  Kindly tell me what strategy you used to achieve such an outstanding result?

Geordy Bateman made it his business to listen to what was going on about him, but never getting involved or volunteer for anything.  He had survived this long in the battalion and saw no reason to change his approach on military life.

“Well Sir. The first thing I needed to do, was to find out where the other platoons were, see. That were easy cos the labour platoon was responsible for dropping off all the tentage and furniture for each platoon in the woods. Then I needed to know how each platoon was made up, so I detailed a couple of men to sit in the bushes around each of the camps. Within an hour I knew who were the strongest and who were not, see.  Our arm band was red Sir, but Jonesy, sorry Sir, Private Jones, was detailed to collect the arm bands for the exercise and deliver them to the training office.  Once we knew the colours, we asked Mrs. Hempworth, in the regimental tailor’s shop, if she could run up six of each colour, for the lads like, Sir.”

“Sorry Sergeant, you keep saying ‘we’.  Are you implying that the planning behind all this was a shared responsibility?”

“Ay Sir. Me and the lads sat down and talked it all through.  Once we’d decided how we were going to do something, we shared it with everyone.”

“So, there was no command structure at all.  You just sat down, talked about it, then got on and did it?”

“Ay Sir.  We took out those we felt were weak, then moved our location…..” He was interrupted by everyone in the room complaining that he had cheated but Bateman carried on.

“Look, there’s nothing in the rules to say we had to stay in one place Sir. So we hid until the exercise was over.  We captured five pendants and never lost our own Sir on account that we kept moving our camp.”

The room fell into total silence as those officers and SNCO around the table tried to understand the simplicity of what Sergeant Bateman and the 13^th Platoon had achieved.

The CO looked at Major Myers. “Christopher, can you see where the 13^th platoon has cheated?  It appears to me that this platoon has obviously read a different training manual on the conduct of modern infantry tactics.”

All Major Myers could do was to nod to his CO.

“Tell me Sergeant Hills, you commanded the first platoon.  Looking at the make up your platoon it consisted of men from the lead rifle platoons of B Company, yet you failed to capture any pendants, in fact you appear to have lost yours to the 13^th platoon.  Explain please.”

“They tricked us Sir. They positioned themselves in between us and the 2^nd platoon, then open fire on the both of us.  I thought we were under attack from a superior force and deployed the men accordingly.  It took nearly half an hour before we drove the 2^nd platoon off.  When we returned to our camp, we found that during the fire fight, the 13^th had withdrawn, then sneaked in behind us and took our pendant. Our camp guards were all tied up.  When I questioned them, they informed me that the invaders were all wearing blue arm bands, the same arm bands as my platoon. Sir.”

Colonel Wessex struggled to keep a stern face, as he glanced down at the sheet of paper, then looked up. “Lieutenant Wilberforce.  You commanded the 10^th platoon.  You appear to have lost your pendant early on in the exercise.  Please explain.”

“Sir, we were attacked at dawn and of course, I stood the men to.  Then the enemy seemed to change their approach and seem to be coming at us from all sides.  Half way through the attack, the left flank of my defence line seemed to fall back without my orders.  Shortly after that, the men on my flank turned and joined the men of the left flank and charge off into the bush.  I thought they were chasing the enemy away. Once the shooting had stopped, I managed to get the situation under control and started to question the men about their conduct.  It would appear a man wearing a second lieutenant’s jacket and wearing one of our arm bands had strolled into my lines prior to the attack, then during the fire fight, ordered the men to leave their positions and chase the enemy away to the west.  Whilst the men were chasing this mysterious enemy, this so-called officer had strolled into my headquarters (HQ), ordered the guard to hand over the pendant, claiming that I needed it as a rallying flag for the men, then left, Sir.”

“How did you know this person was not an officer?”

Second Lieutenant Wilberforce grinned at his colonel. “Well Sir, when I questioned the men.  One told me that the officer was wearing an officer’s tunic that was too small for him and a dirty pair of plimsoles, and another thought he had seen the man before working as part of the kitchen fatigue party back at barracks.  I made the assumption that this imposter was from the labour platoon Sir.” 

The Colonel shook his head slowly as he looked down at the sheet of paper. “So Lieutenant Wilberforce, let me understand what happened. Your sentries failed to pick up the dawn intruder.”

“No Sir, the sentry did confront him and was satisfied that he was one of our platoon and let him pass.”

“Did your sentry ask him for the password, which should have been in use from the start of the exercise?”

Wilberforce stared at his Colonel, but said nothing.

“And once the attack had started, you then stood-too your men, not before, which is the customary way of protecting your position?”

“Yes Sir.”  The grin on Lieutenant Wilberforce’s face was slowly changing to fear.

“Then it would appear your left and rear flank all charged off into the woods, leaving no one to protect your rear?”

Wilberforce hung his head and said nothing.

(To be Continued)

 

Copyright Bob French

Pandora's Box

 CYBER ATTACKS:

By Barbara Thomas

I think this could come under: Pandora’s Box.

The God Prometheus stole fire from heaven to give to the human race, which originally consisted of men,

To punish him the other Gods created the 1^st woman:

The beautiful PANDORA.

As a gift Zeus gave her a box, which she was told never to open.

However, as soon as he was out of sight, she took the lid off and out swarmed all the troubles of the world, never to be recaptured.

Only “Hope” was left in the box, stuck under the lid.

So: anything that looks ordinary but may produce UNPREDICTABLE HARMFUL” results can thus be called a "PANDORA’S BOX"!

Whilst I was scrolling through the news on Sunday 18^th on my iPad I came across this snippet which might interest readers.

Joe Tidy interacted with hackers who claimed to have targeted Marks and Spencer’s and the Cooperatives (also known as the Co-op).

Joe Tidy has been reporting Cyber Security for more than a decade and knew some who liked to boast about their hacks,

Although he noted that 99% of conversations stay firmly locked in his chat logs, but a recent ping was impossible to ignore.

This is how the conversation went   the hacker:

Is this Joe Tidy from the BBC reporting about the latest news concerning the Co-op, he the tracker had a message in the Telegram newspaper.

“We have some news for you,” the hacker teased.

They gave no name or profile picture, but it gave me an inside track on what they, the hackers, claimed to have done to M&S and the Co-op cyber attacks that caused mass disruption.

They message Joe back and forth for the next 5 hours.

It became clear to him that these apparent hackers were fluent

English speakers although they kept claiming just to be the messengers it was obvious they were closely linked to – if not intimately involved in both the M&S/Co-op’s hacks.

They even shared evidence proving that they had stolen a huge amount of customer's and employee's information.

It seems that the hackers were clearly frustrated that the Co-op wasn’t giving in to the hackers demands, but wouldn’t say how much money in BITCOM that they were demanding from the retailer in exchange for the promise that the hackers would not sell or give away the DATA stolen from the Co-op.

The press were contacted for comment and within minutes the firm had initially downplayed the Hack.

Admitted to employees, and customers and the stock market about the significant DATA breach.

Joe said much later, the hacker sent him a long and angry-offensive letter regarding Co-ops response to their hack and subsequent extortion, revealed that the retailer narrowly dodged a more severe hack by intervening in the chaotic minutes after its computer systems were infiltrated.

The letter and conversation with the hackers confirmed what experts in the Cyber Security world had been saying ever since the wave of attacks on M&S and Co-op had begun that the hackers were from a Cyber crime service called DRAGON FORCE

Who are these DRAGON FORCE people you may ask.

Based on the conversations with the original hackers and wider knowledge, there are some clues. DRAGON FORCE offer cyber criminal affiliates, various services on their DARKNET site, in exchange for a 20% cut of any ransom collected

Anyone can sign and use their malicious software to scramble a victim’s data or is their DARKNET website for their public extortion.

This has become the norm in organised cyber crime, it's known as RANSOMEWARE-AS-A-SERVICE.

The most infamous of recent times is a service cad LOCKBIT,

But this is all but defunct now partly because it was cracked by the police last year.

DRAGONFORCE latest...

Copyright Barbara Thomas

VIRGINIA 

By Jane Scoggins 

Soon after the beginning of the war in 1939 Eva began working in the munitions factory. It was a tiring repetitive and boring job and Eva hated it. But she knew she had to support the war effort as best she could, and with the factory nearby in Willesden where they lived, she knew this was how best she could play her part.  But in 1942 the factory was targeted by German bombers and very badly damaged. It had been shocking to think the workers could have been in the building at the time. Eva moved to a smaller factory in Kilburn that was not so easily identified as making electrical equipment. It was just as boring repetitive work and Eva was constantly afraid of bombing. Her husband Michael was away in the army fighting Germans in France. She prayed each day for his survival and homecoming when at last this wretched war was over.  She heard very little from him. The occasional letter from him was precious. She had developed a nervous disposition and her only joy and comfort though these past years was their daughter Ruth who tried her best to keep her spirits up when she became melancholy, as she often did. Winston Churchill had the job of keeping the country's spirits up with his frequent updates. The radiogram was permanently tuned into the news. When Ruth returned home each evening from her job as a telephonist and secretary at the Ministry of Works she would retune the radio to music if she could find a station that was operating. She too often felt very down, worrying about her mother’s low mood and the absence of her father. At nineteen she felt the weight of family responsibility on her shoulders. Added to that was the recent news that her aunt had received a letter saying her husband, Eva’s brother, was missing in action. During the last year there had been numerous friends and neighbours who had similar news of their menfolk badly injured on the frontline or killed in action. Eva and Ruth put on a brave face for each other but inside they both felt stressed and exhausted by the lives they were living, and both felt the absence of  Michael very difficult. Every time the warning siren went off they hurried to a neighbours Anderson shelter until the noise of the shelling was over and the ARP gave the all clear. Sometimes there had not been time to get to the Anderson shelter and they had crawled under the kitchen table and clung to each other and prayed. Houses nearby had been damaged by the bombing but so far their terraced house had survived with only minimal fallout damage. Life seemed to be lived on a knife edge, and with rationed food and poor fitful sleep, things were a struggle for them, and everyone else in their community. How much longer will this war go on they thought every day.

 And then on Tuesday May 8^th 1945, a day they would all remember. Came the news from Winston Churchill that Hitler and the Germans had conceded defeat and the war was over. The joy, the relief, the tears and the unbelievable exhilaration was on everyone lips, in every house and street. Ruth and Eva heard the news at work and like so many were given the rest of the day off to go and celebrate with family and friends. By the time they got home there were already plans afoot for a street party, and everyone was dragging tables and chairs outside and playing music. Mrs Moss had brought out her accordion and Mr King, who had a leg amputated due to shrapnel injuries was helped outside by his wife to sit on a chair and play his fiddle.  By mid afternoon youngsters in their late teens were talking about going into central London where there was celebrating going on in and around Trafalgar Square. At first, Ruth wasn't sure she wanted to go and leave her mother, but Eva gave her the encouragement she needed, and seeing her mother looking happy and relaxed for the first time in years she decided to go. Leaving her mother chatting to neighbours and drinking tea, Ruth and an old schoolfriend linked arms and set off down Kilburn High Road hoping to get a lift or a bus for at least part of the way. Crowds of joyful people were everywhere and it took some time to reach Marble Arch. But Ruth and Ann couldn't have cared less how long it took. Young men and girls chatted freely and pubs opened their doors. By the time they reached Trafalgar Square, it was late afternoon. The weather was mild and everyone was so happy, it was infectious. Ruth and Ann chatted to anyone and everyone and were offered swigs from champagne bottles and sips of all sorts of alcoholic beverages. Neither were used to alcohol so they were soon relaxed and linking arms with those around them singing loudly. At some point, they became separated and Ruth found herself chatting to a young man in naval uniform. Within minutes they were swept along towards the Mall and down towards Green Park. Once there they sat down under one of the statues to catch their breath. They exchanged names, and Ray produced a small bottle of rum from his pocket and offered it to Ruth. Ruth had not tasted Rum before so was apprehensive, but took a sip and decided it was quite nice. She was intrigued by Ray and thought him handsome and polite. Ray in turn thought that Ruth was pretty and charming. Ray told her his ship was a destroyer providing support for mine laying and anti-aircraft protection. They had suffered some losses and experienced some hairy moments. He was glad to be back on dry land. They took turns sipping from the bottle of rum, chatting and enjoying each other's company. When Ray leaned over to kiss Ruth she reciprocated readily and was so happy she almost felt she could fall in love. When dusk fell they walked hand in hand through the park, bought a sandwich and beer, and joined in with the dancing and singing all around them. Everyone was tipsy and enjoying the freedom and relief that the news of the end of the six long years of war had brought that day. Ray and Ruth did not want to be parted so they spent the night in the park, cuddled up wanting these wonderful feelings to last and last. They fell asleep in each other's arms with the sounds of people singing, ‘We’ll Meet Again, Don’t Know Where Don’t Know When’, and ‘There’ll Be Bluebirds Over the White Cliffs of Dover’. And then with more kisses and cuddles they parted, but not before Ray had scribbled his Mother’s neighbour's telephone number, up north somewhere, on a scrap of paper for her in the hope that they would meet again someday. Ruth returned to Willesden and Ray to wherever he had been told to meet his other ship mates. For both of them it had been the best, and most memorable time of their lives. They felt a weight had been lifted and happiness was back in their lives.

Nine months later baby Virginia Eva was born. Ruth did not for one minute regret her liaison with Ray. Sadly having lost the scrap of paper with the telephone number Ruth never saw Ray again and in due course met and married another handsome young man. Victory in Europe would be forever celebrated, and marked each year since then. Everyone on that day had their own special memories Happy 80^th VE day to all those veterans still here and with memories to share.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins 

 A haiku by me

Robert Kingston

 

long day

a toddler’s eyelids

fight the darkness

 

By Robert Kingston

 

Recently published in Blithe Spirit, Volume 35/ number 2

A rengay by an American friend and I.

Robert Kingston / Carole MacRury

 

Dust Covered Clock

 

curio shop

a Jack in the box

ready to pounce

 

what’s one more

tarnished silver spoon

 

in a dark corner

the taxidermist’s

laboured smile

 

looking for love

a vintage teddy        

with a torn ear

 

questions ring out about 

the vase’s provenance 

 

still on the shelf

a dust-covered clock

that lost its chime

 

Robert Kingston / Carole MacRury

 

Recently published in Blithe Spirit, Volume 35/ number 2

  

 The Last Word

By Jane Goodhew

The weather was abnormally hot for the time of year instead of an average 23C it had remained in the high 30s even at night it had not dropped below 26C.  They were not complaining it was why they travelled abroad especially at this time of year when in the UK the weather was becoming cold and wet and the nights were drawing in so they seemed to be in perpetual darkness.   She hated the dark days of winter and would love to be able to live permanently in the sun but in reality that was unlikely to happen.

They decided not to spend the days just going to the beach or by the pool, tempting as it was just to laze in the warmth and enjoy the sight of blue, blue skies and be thankful for the occasional breeze.  They got up early and by 8.20 am were on the first local bus to Varna 100km away.  As she sat on the bus looking out the window she noticed a young man sitting on a bench, his head in his hands and a look of total despair and rejection on his pale face.  She wondered what could be so bad to make someone who was only in his mid-twenties look so lost and as the bus pulled out she realised she never would and also that it really was none of her business.

The miles passed and the bus continued to climb the steep road until it reached the top and the view was spectacular, fields, woodland and in the far distance the sea.  What more could a person ask for?  The sound of a snore told her, as it would seem her daughter preferred to sleep than to enjoy the scenery but at least she was there and had not refused to go with her.  Nearly two hours later they had reached their destination but had not a clue what they really wanted to do as although they had done their homework and looked up on Trip Advisor ‘things to do in Varna’ she had completely forgotten any of it so they just wandered.  They started at first at the shopping mall as it was next to the bus station but there was nothing of interest so they moved onto the many streets that led???? Exactly were did they lead as instead of remaining on the main routes she kept taking shortcuts in the direction that she believed must lead to the coast.  They did not really want to go to the museums or to the Opera House and although Emma had mentioned the beach prior to leaving the hotel as someone had told her of Golden Sands which was meant to be one of the best beaches in Bulgaria when we started to walk in the direction that the sea must be in, she started to complain, but I ignored her as I think it was all part and parcel of her being on holiday with me.

We stopped at a café well we actually stoped at 3 as the first two were either not suitable or we were just ignored as the other customers were young mothers with noisy children so we decided to move on.  The third was a small place frequented by locals, on the corner of a back street, a young boy and his mother sat eating and laughing at something the other had said.  A very young girl came to give us a menu, the only snag it was completely in Bulgarian and the girl try as she might could not understand that we just wanted a drink and some small snack.   She went away with a smile and came back with a lively, older girl who had been to London and could speak some English, so we were sorted and enjoyed a cup of coffee and blueberry cheese cake before starting on our way.

Emma was becoming more irritated by each passing moment as we walked further and further yet seemed to get no nearer the sea just one dead end after another.  Her phone informed her that she had walked 12,000 steps, not that that meant anything to me and anyway walking is good for you although perhaps not in this heat and not when the last dead end seemed to drop down onto a motorway!   The consolation prize was that the sea could be seen in the distance so keep positive and walking.

Finally, we found a tourist information and were shown the correct directions to get us to the beach and just in time for lunch we found the ideal restaurant right on the sandy beach, overlooking the crystal clear, turquoise sea and unlike our resort not completely taken over by sunbeds and umbrellas.  The cost of the afore said at 28 Lev per day would be an unnecessary extravagance when there were so many places to explore and public transport reliable and cheap.  Once again we seemed to be invisible as waiters went to other customers and continued to ignore us, that is until I helped myself to a menu.  It had the desired effect and the most charming as well as tall, dark and yes, handsome waiter with a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts asked if we were ready for him to take our order.  If I were 20 years younger I would be more than ready but back to reality, we both ordered and then just sat back and watched as the world went by and we appreciated the end result of our long walk.

A few tables down were a glamourous middle aged couple; they sat and ate in silence barley looking at one another or at the beautiful surroundings.  If one were a cynic you might assume they were married as for so many once that ring was put on your finger all the sweet nothing whispering and long, lingering looks seem to vanish and be replaced by a stoney silence.  She was made up immaculately, as if she were going to the theatre, her dress was pure silk in a pale lilac with a long scarf draped over her delicate shoulders.  He was in a light coloured day suit not the way one would dress to be literally down on the beach but more at one of the expensive restaurants high up on the cliffs overlooking it with a far reaching view to capture the sunset over the horizon and watch the moon and stars as you sip your wine late into the night.  She looked up at him and a sad expression crossed her face as she put down her knife and fork and reached across at him and holding his hand whispered into his ear.  He pushed the chair back with such force and he turned and went but before he did he could be heard saying ‘Morte’.   He did mumble something else but it could not be heard and he was gone.  She tried hard to look as if nothing had happened, the waiter came and put the chair back into place and took away the plates and returned with her desert of a simple fruit cocktail.

Sometime later the waitress went across to ask if she required anything else or would she like the bill, it was then that the silence and peace was disturbed by a shrill scream and the waitress cried out for assistance.  Something terrible had happened to the lady, people went over to see if they could help and eventually an ambulance arrived but nothing could be done, the lady in lilac was dead.  We all had to remain where we were so that we could tell the police exactly what we had seen or heard, I remembered quite clearly her husband's final words but then I also recalled as her head had been lifted up to see if she had choked on something, a wasp had flown out.  Therefore, the verdict anaphylactic shock.  What an ending to a day out. 

 

                                          

Copyright Jayne Goodhew

 THE  MURDER OF FANNY ADAMS

By Barbara Thomas

On scrolling through Hampshire Constabulary History I came across this article:

Although many think that the murder of children is a modern curse unfortunately, this has been happening for centuries.

There was this infamous case concerning the murder at Alton in Hampshire, of a “Sweet” Fanny Adams, aged 8 years old.

 

The murder took place at Flood Meadow on Saturday 24^th August1867.

The child was not only murdered but decapitated then brutally

Mutilated, her body parts spread over a wide area.

Even by Victorian standards this was a horrific murder.

The murderer, a Mr Frederick Baker aged 29, had been arrested

Within hours of the discovery of the child’s body.

He was discovered with blood-stained clothing. Also, damming evidence

 was found in an entry in his diary “Killed a young girl”

Involved in the arrest were Superintendent Cheyney and PC George Watkins.

Baker was tried at Winchester Assizes in December of that year.

The defence introduced evidence of a history of violent mental illnesses in Baker’s family, but he was still found guilty.

It took the jury only 15mins to reach an unanimously verdict.

Baker was publicly hanged on Christmas Eve the very same month, outside the County prison at Winchester and was watched by 5,000 spectators (mainly women)

This was swift justice indeed.

Also this was to be the last public hanging at Winchester, although hanging continued through to the 1960’s.

A detailed book entitles, SWEET FA THE TRUE STORY OF FANNY ADAMS, written and published by Peter Cansfield.

Many of the buildings still exist except for the Police Sation.

LAW, CRIME AND HISTORY (2013)

Scrolling through I came across an article connecting “Sweet” Fanny Adams and Sarah’s Law.

This article contains two cases of female murder, modern and historical. Where both victims have become household names.

There was ‘written iin the print “PRESS”’ an intent to explore how similar cases resulted in the divergent use of victim’s names and how the names of both victims become emblematic and exploited by the press.

Sarah Payne was abducted and murdered by a man with previous convictions for abducting and indecently assaulting another young girl.

Sarah’s mother fought and won and took it to the Houses of Parliament and it became known as “Sarah’s Law” which became a child sex offender disclosure scheme, which enabled members if the public to ask the police whether an individual (e.g a neighbour or family friend) was a convicted sex offender.

Although it is a fact that the names of the murderer’s were often more remembered than the names of their victims, this was not the case with Fanny Adams or Sarah Payne, but how each one is remembered differs remarkably.

The term “FANNY ADAMS” has passed into a pejorative slang term whereas SARAH PAYNE has come to be positively associated with greater public sympathy.

First glance suggests very different responses to these “remembered” victims.

The popular use, if Fanny’s name implies this Victorian child victim of such a savage murder was treated as inconsequential, or at worst taken as a figure of humour.

That her name could be used as a euphemism for “Nothing at all” is remarkable and is more striking set against the Sarah Payne case.

In 1869 new rations of tinned beef mutton was introduced for British Seaman. The sailors were unimpressed by it and suggested it might be the butchered remains of “FANNY ADAMS”

The name became slang for mediocre mutton; stew scarce leftovers and therefore worthless.

 

Copyright Barbara Thomas - 26.05.25