| Subject: Biggs, my part in his downfall............... |
Author:
Dave P.
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Date Posted: 21:39:14 04/16/05 Sat
Many moons ago, I was prattling on (as I am prone to do, now and then!) on this board about the day I almost got busted. I was quite circumspect about the whole thing but it prompted a very short, cryptic reply from one Howard 'Butch' Biggs (the quite innocent cause of my discomfort at that time) to the effect that "My secret was safe with him" and not a peep since! Well 'Butch' I'm about to let you off the hook. Your lips can now be unsealed and you no longer have the weight of confidentiality to worry about. So, pull the finger out and get on this board and let us know how you are getting along. We missed you at the last reunion.
It happened in Devizes and the location was the Signal Stores. The stores were laid out in the following fashion (bear with me, you know I can't tell a story straight and I go all around the houses but I promise it is all relevant). OK, you come in the door and there is a three sided counter in front of you and you are in the well. Along each wall and across the far end there are steel shelving units, I think, 5 shelves high upon which all the kit is stored. The shelves are about two or three feet from the walls, to allow access behind. OK? the scene is set!
This particular day was one of those endless, boring days that never seem to end. You know, all the kit was cleaned up, counted and checked for the tenth time. There was no exercise in the offing and it was one of those 'make work for the sake of work' days. So, there we were bored and trying to look busy. When your truly, in a fit of complete madness, produced an air pistol and decided we would have a bit of extra-curricular target practice in our own indoor range. Setting up a target at the far end of the stores, we all retired safely to this end and commenced firing. After a few shots had been fired by myself (rank has privilege and it was my gat any way so of course I was first!) there was a loud grunt from the shelving at the far end of the stores, near the target and out from behind the shelving stepped one Gunner Butch Biggs, with blood oozing from a wound in his temple. My stomach dropped. On closer inspection, we discovered that there was a pellet embedded in the flesh very close to his eye. Luckily for him, and me! it transpired to be a ricochet and so was only just under the skin and was taken care of by the MRS quite quickly. Needless to say, the soft and smelly hit the speedy rotating propeller and I was summarily dealt with. I don't recall the exact punishment, suffice to say I kept my stripe but I was very aware, at just how lucky I was that Butch didn't lose his eye that day and, Howard, if I didn't say it enough then, I once again, apologise profoundly.
Looking at it from todays stand point, I would probably have done a stretch as an example and been booted out! Irrisponsible, I know, but a complete accident and no malice intended, and so dealt with by common sence and compassion.
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