Wartime Chickenshit

Stan Scislowski

It's not likely you'll ever run into anybody, anywhere, who did time in the Services during the war that can honestly say he, or even she, didn't experience being exposed to a strong dose of chickenshit at some time or another. From the day you were sworn into the Service, be it Army, Navy, Air Force or one of the three Women's Services, you more often than not were confronted with petty injustices, stupid orders, outrageous trivial punishments that could be lumped into one category commonly known as Chickenshit."

The men of His Majesty's Royal Navy called it "Bullshit " We Canadians and Yanks favoured the latter term because it suggested something more scornful, like being called 'chicken'  when dared to do something that had an element of risk involved, and you backed away from it.  Whatever name it went under, it was almost without fail heaped on the heads of those unfortunate enough to hold no rank of command and therefore had no recourse to object, refuse or fight back at some of the indignities they had to endure.

Although I ran into a few dandies along this line myself, let me relate, instead, several such that I took from a book titled WARTIME by Paul Fussell and I  rewrote  it in my style.

It happened in Birmingham; this sailor was at the railway station at the very moment  when  it came under a bombing attack, and as with everyone else, he and his friends hustled off to the nearest air-raid shelter. After the 'All Clear' sounded and they  emerged, this sailor along with his buddies set to work with uncommon energy rescuing the injured, and cleaning up the premises, and in doing so, their uniforms became unkempt  and  heavily covered with dust. After things quietened down and the rescue squads sped away in lorries to another heavily damaged district, the sailors went on their way to the nearest hostel to clean up. It wasn't long before Naval Policemen and Red Caps, came on the scene, ramrod straight and with the  imperious air they were well known-for, gave them proper hell for their untidy and unclean appearance, notwithstanding all they had just done to rescue people buried in the ruins.

"Chickenshit!"

And then there was the time when a Royal Navy man just back from sea after his ship, a merchant cruiser was torpedoed and set ablaze from fore to aft. The gruesome sight of the horribly burned bodies of his shipmates sat heavy on his mind as he approached the gangway on a dismal and rainy night lugging his hammock and seabag to the ship on which he was reassigned. He heard a shout coming from the unlit, but warm and dry gatehouse, loud and fierce. . . "That man there! Get your hat on straight, do you hear me?!!"

"Chickenshit!"

And how about this one? It happened in a hospital when an unfamiliar Medical Officer, one morning entered the leg ward where most of the men were unable to leave their beds. The few who could, did so smartly when this self-proclaimed God walked slowly through the ward. One of them, a Lance Corporal called out, the moment he saw the M.O. come in, "Stand by your beds!" You'd think he was on the parade square.

And as the M.O. walked slowly through the ward, looking this way and that, he spoke to the Matron, "Bad discipline in this ward, Matron. Very slack. Who's the senior NCO here?" With that, the Lance-jack stepped forward as smartly as his game leg would allow and spoke, "I am, sir!" Whereupon the officer dressed him down with the admonition, "See that the men pay proper respect to an officer when he enters the ward. If I've any further cause for complaint I shall hold you responsible. I'm not satisfied with this ward, not satisfied at all. I hope to see some improvement when I come 'round to-morrow."

Chickenshit of the worst kind!

But then there were times when chickenshit backfired on the perpetrators, like when the famous Yank General, George Patton started chewing-out one man in one of his hospital visits, when he was sharply interrupted, "Run along, asshole, I'm in the Merchant Marine!"       

Another time, a Major ran into a man in the recreation hall wearing the filthiest uniform he'd ever seen. He promptly reprimanded him for it. The answer he got was sharp and filled with venom: "Bugger off, buddy, I just came in from town to fill the coke machine."

And the time two guys on KP duty were carrying a steaming pot across the parade-square when they were halted in mid-step by a sharp command of the Orderly officer of the day showing his authority. "You there, hold on!" The  single-pipper strode up to them, dipped the ladle into the pot and lifted it to his lips to taste the contents. " He spat it out, and with a tone of voice filled with venom he exclaimed, "Do you call that soup?!!"

"No, Sir, it's swill water from the kitchen."                      

So there you have it, just a few examples of how some people use their new-found authority on people lower down on the Service ladder system, trying to impress on the lesser ranks the power they hold over them.

Stan Scislowski served with the Canadian Perth Regiment during WWII .  He is the author of "Not All of Us Were Brave."  Read more of his perspectives on WWII