The Chequer Board (34 page)

“Well, sir, on account of what he said about my young lady, and picking on me all evening, and then kicking me up the arse.”

“Yes. Now, after he kicked you, did you stop and think what you were going to do?”

“No, sir. I just went for him.”

“How did you go for him? What exactly did you do?”

“I went at him the Unarmed Combat way, sir, like we had been taught.”

“Yes, like you had been taught. What did you do first?”

“Well, sir, he was facing me, so I gave him a kick in the—in the lower stomach, you might say.”

“Yes, you kicked him in the lower stomach. What happened then?”

“It worked all right, sir, and he bent up double, so I could get behind him and get him up against the wall, with my elbow under his chin and my knee in his back.”

“Yes. Where did you learn to do this?”

“On the Unarmed Combat course, sir.”

“Yes. Now, when you applied the pressure with your elbow and your knee to pull his head back, what did you mean to do to him?”

The corporal said, “Just give him a bit of a tweak, sir. That’s all I meant to do. Just hurt him a bit, for saying that about my girl.”

“Yes, you just meant to hurt him slightly. In your instruction at the School of Unarmed Combat, had anybody told you when to stop the pressure if the man’s back was not to be broken?”

“No, sir. We was taught to use all the strength we’d got and finish it.”

“Did you use all your strength on this occasion?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you quite sure of that?”

“Yes, sir. I could have pulled him a lot harder than what I did.”

“Was he struggling?”

“Yes, sir. He was a big chap and much stronger than me. I don’t think I’d have stood much of a chance against him in the ordinary way.”

“Now, Corporal, when you applied the moderate pressure that you did, what happened?”

“Well, he kind of collapsed, sir, and stopped struggling, so I let him go. And he fell down.”

“Were you surprised when he collapsed?”

“Yes, sir. I couldn’t hardly credit it.”

“Why were you surprised?”

“Well, he was a great big chap, sir, about three stone heavier than me. And I wasn’t pressing very hard.”

“After he fell down, what did you do next?”

“I went to see if he was all right, and he was sort of breathing hard and groaning.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No, sir. He didn’t say nothing that I heard.”

“And what did you do then?”

“I went off to a telephone box and rang up the pub, ’n told them there was a man ill on the pavement outside.”

The counsel turned to the Bench. “My Lord,” he said, “I have no more questions to ask the witness.”

Mr Constantine Paget got briskly to his feet. He had little hope now of a murder verdict, and he had no intention of prolonging his cross-examination so that the case would stretch out and occupy another day; he was too busy a man for that. At the same time, he had his duties to perform, and one of those was to make quite sure that if this corporal got away with it he would at any rate remember the case. He said:

“Now, Corporal Brent, when you kicked this man in the lower stomach, did you know that that was a very dangerous thing to do?”

There was an uncertain pause. “I can’t rightly say,” the corporal said at last. “I didn’t think.”

“You didn’t think! Do you know that such a kick could quite easily kill a man, in itself?”

“Yes, sir. We was told that on the course.”

“You were told that on the course. You knew before this fight that such a kick could kill a man?”

There was another pause.

Mr Constantine Paget stared at the prisoner. “Will you please answer the question. Did you know before you had this fight that such a kick could kill a man?”

“Yes, I did. I told you.”

“When you kicked him in this way, then, did you mean to kill this man?”

“No, sir. I didn’t think.”

“Why not?”

“Well, sir, he kicked me, and I kicked him.”

Mr Constantine Paget shifted his papers. “There must have been an interval between these kicks, was there not?”

Major Carter rose to his feet. “My Lord,” he said.

The Judge said, “If you please, Mr Paget.”

Mr Constantine Paget said testily, “I will repeat that question in another form. Corporal Brent, was there any interval of time between these kicks?”

The corporal said hesitantly, “I don’t really know. I don’t think there was.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“I was sort of mad, I suppose.”

“Corporal Brent, remembering that you are giving witness upon oath, do you really mean to tell the jury that when you kicked this man you had no idea of killing him?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t go to kill him.”

Mr Constantine Paget wrapped his gown around him and sat down. Major Carter got up.

“Now, Corporal Brent, when this man kicked you, did it hurt?”

“Yes, sir. He got me right on the spine.”

“Were you in pain, then, when you went for him?”

“Yes, sir. It was hurting something cruel.”

“Is that why you cannot remember quite what you did?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long did this pain go on for?”

“I dunno,” the corporal said. “I remember it was pretty fierce when I was telephoning.”

Counsel glanced at the Judge. “My Lord, I have no more questions.”

Mr Justice Lambourn glanced at the clock, and left his seat, murmuring, “Till two o’clock,” and vanished through a door behind his chair.

The clerk said in a loud tone, “The court is adjourned for one hour and ten minutes.”

After the lunch adjournment the defending counsel addressed the court. He said:

“My Lord and members of the jury, very few of the facts in this case are matters of dispute. We have heard evidence from a number of witnesses that there was a quarrel between these two men, and we have heard from the witness Phyllis Styles the words which the deceased last uttered, which brought the stinging repartee from the defendant, which caused the deceased man to launch the kick which was the first blow in this fight. If I may have the indulgence of the court for a very few moments I
should like to speculate on what would have happened if this matter had occurred in peacetime, if Douglas Theodore Brent had never learned the terrible crafts that we have taught him to use against the enemy.”

He glanced up at the Judge a little anxiously, to see if he would be allowed to go on with this line. The grey wig inclined slowly. He went on with more confidence.

“I have little doubt in my own mind that a return blow would have been struck, and normal reasonable men might well agree that such a blow would have been merited. But I have little doubt also that it would have been an unskilled blow, a blow with the hands directed at the face or body. It would not have been the terrible blow that in fact occurred, the fierce, well-directed kick at the lower stomach that disabled the deceased. We have heard evidence to the effect that the accused man has had no training whatsoever in the art of fighting other than that provided by the Army. In peacetime, any blow that he might have struck would have been a feeble blow, unlikely to maim or even seriously to inconvenience his powerful opponent, more than three stone heavier than himself.”

He paused. “I want you to imagine that scene, quite a common one in certain parts of our great cities. There would no doubt have been a return blow from the deceased; there would have been a fight outside the public house that night. There might have been a black eye, a nose might have bled, and both parties might well have appeared before the magistrate next morning on a charge of disturbing the peace. If that had happened, the accused, who now stands before you in the dock on a charge of murder, might have been fined five shillings, though in
view of certain words of provocation which have been repeated in this court it might well be that he would have been convicted and bound over to keep the peace.”

He looked up. “Members of the jury, I have done with speculation now; the matter did not take that course because at the time of Munich, at the age of seventeen, Douglas Theodore Brent joined the Territorial Army to submit himself to military discipline and training. This very young man volunteered and joined the Army before he was called up because he deemed it was his duty, being vigorous and strong, to serve his country in a time of need. The Army seems to have accepted him without any very great enquiry, and they proceeded to train him in the duties of a modern soldier.”

He paused. “Well, now,” he said at last, “we have heard in this court today something of these duties. All soldiers are trained to kill men quickly and efficiently; we cannot overlook that this is the very substance of war. Corporal Brent was trained as an infantry soldier; he then volunteered for Commando service, and later for service in the Parachute Regiment. In those units of the Army it is necessary to teach men certain ways of killing the enemy, certain deadly and ruthless ways of ending human life, which are beyond the education of the ordinary soldier. For many months, by the delegated order of the King executed through his officers, this immature young man has learned these deadly crafts.”

He stood in silence for a minute, staring at the foreman of the jury, marshalling his thoughts; in the court there was a long, tense pause. “I speak of what I know,” he said quietly. “I have come here to defend this man for other
reasons than because I want to take the fee marked on the brief. You have heard it stated in the evidence that I myself taught Douglas Theodore Brent to creep up in the darkness behind an unsuspecting man, and stab him with a knife, and kill him. I taught him to do that in three different ways, so that whatever method of approach was forced on him by circumstances he could kill his man immediately and without noise. I taught him more than that. With other instructors I endeavoured to secure that Douglas Theodore Brent, the man on trial before you, would act instinctively to choose the one of the three methods he was taught which would serve him best in his assault. We reasoned, we instructors, that in desperate circumstances he would have no time to stop and think. He must know his craft so well, the knife must be so familiar in his hand, that he would act instinctively in what he had to do, without the least hesitation, without any thought. Members of the jury, those are the principles that I have endeavoured to instill into the man before you.”

He paused again. Mr Constantine Paget whispered something in disgust to his junior.

The Major said, “I have dwelt on my own association with the accused because it is a prototype of the unarmed combat instruction which he subsequently received, and which resulted lamentably in the death of Michael Seddon. Again, I ask you to consider for one moment what would have happened in peacetime if I and others like me had taught these deadly crafts to this young man before you. I do not think we should have escaped the censure of this court. We should have been involved in this matter with him, very rightly, as aiding and abetting in the crime
of which he is charged. If I had taught Brent in time of peace to creep up behind a man and stab him in the back, and if he had done so in a private quarrel, I should have been implicated in his crime.”

He raised his head and faced the jury. “I am not implicated in this crime, nor is Captain Willis, who taught him the deadly methods of unarmed combat which he used, inadvertently, with such terrible effect. Why is not Captain Willis charged in this court with Corporal Brent as aiding and abetting in his crime? It is because Captain Willis did what he did by order of the King, passed indirectly to him through his various officers. The Crown protects Captain Willis, and myself, from the consequences of our acts, of our instruction to innocent men in these terrible crafts. Are we to say, then, that the Crown throws a cloak of immunity around myself and Captain Willis, but leaves Corporal Brent unprotected to face a trial for murder, for doing what we have taught him to do by instinct and without thought?”

He smiled thoughtfully. “No; justice cannot be severed in that way. If Douglas Theodore Brent is held to be guilty of the crime of murder, then Captain Willis must be held guilty of aiding and abetting in his crime. Alternatively, if Captain Willis is held to be immune from censure because he taught these things to Corporal Brent by order of the King, then that immunity must cover Corporal Brent, who in a struggle did by instinct what he had been taught. Members of the jury, this is the truth of it. The accident of war has taught this young man to do certain things by instinct. The accident of war has turned what would have been a simple brawl into a lamentable
homicide. In your deliberations you cannot escape the fact that the real and fundamental cause of this man’s death was the accident of war.”

He paused. “Members of the jury, I have nearly done. In your deliberations you may well ask—where is this thing to end? You may say, the Army is training men in the dire arts of homicide, and training them to kill at sight without thought, mercy, or compunction. The Army euphemistically describes this as a ‘toughening’ process. You may well ask, how are these killers that the Army has created to be controlled if the Law be not strained and twisted to convict them? It is a reasonable question that, and one that must be answered. Upon the evidence you have no option but to find this man innocent of murder. But you may well ask—how, then, is the public to be protected from the homicidal crafts that he has learned in the years following the war?”

He smiled faintly. “I cannot look into the future, but I can, perhaps, see further than you. I, too, have been through this toughening process. In civil life I serve these courts as barrister, but in recent years I, too, have been trained to kill men without mercy or compunction, instinctively, and without thought. But unlike Corporal Brent, I am thirty-seven years of age, and unlike him I have known another life, a life of peace. And I can tell you this. When the war ends and Corporal Brent puts off his uniform and puts on his civilian clothes and walks out into Civvy Street, all these dread arts will be sloughed off like his uniform. In three months after that you will find him thinking only about motorcycle races or the wallflowers in his garden, and when at times he is reminded that
he once killed men in brutal physical assault, he will be filled with wonder that that same man was he. Innocent men are not so easily diverted from the life of innocence as many people think. There will be trouble with a few criminal types, who by virtue of their army training have enlarged their repertoire of crime. Such men are few in number. The many thousands who have learned these deadly crafts for use against the enemy will soon be thinking of them in wonder and distaste, letting their knowledge sink into oblivion as soon as may be. I say again, innocent men are not easily diverted from the life of innocence.”