Soldier Boy
by Robert Symes
Chapter 1
Brain Damage
This story is set in rural England in 1974. The cultural references are from that time and place so I hope that references to cars or music won't spoil the story for those who don't know them. Follow the links provided for more information or just ignore them. (And yes, I know you can use a search engine just as well as I can. The links are for convenience, not to insult anyone.)
Some controversial opinions will be expressed. Some are opinions I profoundly disagree with but I've tried to state them fairly, not parody them. It is this author's policy to have no opinions about anything, or at least not to state them. Any opinions you see on these pages are those of the characters or the site owner respectively and I neither endorse nor oppose them.
Fourteen year old Philip Caxton was waiting at the bus stop with his dad on the morning of Saturday March 2 nd 1974. They had to go into town and Mum had taken the family car to go and help her own mother. Granny was getting frail and confused these days and needed help with shopping, cleaning, bills and so on. At least her flat was in sheltered housing so no maintenance or gardening to worry about.
A gold coloured Ford Capri came down the road, too fast, and stopped on the bus stop. The passenger window rolled down, somebody turned the volume on the music right down, and Christopher Langley leaned out of the car. "Need a lift, Phil?" he asked. "We're going into town ourselves."
"Christ, it's Marianne Faithful " said Mr Caxton disgustedly. Philip had to smile. Christopher's dark blond, almost ginger, hair was shoulder length and covered his ears and he had a slim build and a pale, thin face. To someone of Mr Caxton's generation that would look feminine. Philip doubted Mick Jagger would agree.
"Thanks, Chris, but I'm going into town with Dad" replied Philip.
"Him too then. Steve won't mind." Chris raised his voice. "Can we give you a lift Mr Caxton? It'll save you some bus fare."
"No thanks, son. I want to live a bit longer. Tell that lunatic this is a thirty limit, not Brands Hatch ." Philip cringed at the rudeness.
But Chris just laughed. "Suit yourself. Limits are boring. As my boyfriend says 'I hope I die before I get old.' Come round mine this afternoon if you want, Phil. I'm getting a couple of new albums today if they've got them." Just then the bus approached, the driver blasting his horn in anger at the car parked on the bus stop. "See ya" called Chris and turned the music back up as the car roared off.
In a beautiful coincidence David Bowie 's new record blasted out of the car: "You've got your mother in a whirl. She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl. Hey babe…" The music faded as the car drove away. Philip could barely look at his father as they boarded the bus and paid their fares to the driver on this new-fangled one man operated bus.
"What's that song? 'Don't know if you're a boy or a girl'?" asked Mr Caxton as they took their seats. "Very appropriate. That boy looks like a girl. And bragging about his boyfriend and swanning around with him in that car, it's unnatural. Bloody disgusting, they should never have made it legal."
"That was a joke, Dad" explained Philip. "The song is David Bowie's new one. He's brilliant. And Chris doesn't have a boyfriend, but you called him Marianne Faithful and she does. Her boyfriend is Mick Jagger from the stones, hence the quote. And that was his brother Steve driving."
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't joke about things like that. Someone might believe you and then where will you be when it gets around? All this 'Glam Rock' and gender-benders, I don't hold with it. Men should be men."
After doing what they needed to in town Philip and his father returned home and had some lunch. Then Mr Caxton went off to work on his allotment , more hobby than work but the fresh vegetables were nice. Philip took care of a couple of small jobs and went round to meet Chris. The Capri wasn't there but Mrs Langley was. "Go on up Philip" she said, after doing a double-take and almost not recognising him. "He's in his room. He said you might come round. I think you might surprise him though."
Philip went upstairs and knocked on the relevant door. "Hi Chris, it's only me. Can I come in?"
"Yeah, come in" called Chris. He was standing with his back to the door, wearing jeans with no shirt, looking in a carrier bag. "Just a sec" he said over his shoulder. Then he registered what he'd just seen and spun around. He pushed his hair back with his right hand, as if reassuring himself it was still there, a look of horror on his face. "What have you done to your hair?"
"Don't you like it?"
"It's awful! You look like one of those skinheads ! Whatever made you do it?"
"Sergeant Ellis from the Army Cadets . And my dad. I told you I was thinking of joining and Dad was dead keen. I think he'd like me to join up when I leave school. He said National Service was the making of him and they should never have stopped it. He never wanted to do it but of course he had to and in his own words it took a nasty idle young lout and turned him into a man. He liked it so much he signed on for five more years. He might be still in it now but he met Mum. Met her once too often, so to speak, and I was born 'prematurely' a few months after the wedding. And Mum won't be an army wife, she likes to be settled near her family.
"Anyway I tried to join the cadets. I thought my hair looked pretty good but Ellis said I look like a bloody girl and get it cut. Dad laughed and said he knows what's wanted. Turns out to be this. So I got my uniform and stuff and I start Tuesday night. And I get to shoot real guns on the range. How cool is that?"
Chris still looked appalled. " Donny Osmond to the Hitler Youth in one morning. It's quite a transformation. I didn't know you wanted to shoot people. Bombed any peasant villages lately?"
"Don't exaggerate, I never had my hair that long, Dad wouldn't stand for it. And you're really ignorant, you know." Phillip continued their familiar banter. "That's America doing that; we're not involved. And they're not doing it for fun. And I'll be shooting paper targets not people. And you're just jealous. Your mum would never let you do it." Chris's mum had not let motherhood stop her being a dedicated hippy in the sixties. Now she was a ' friend of the earth ' and still fond of kaftans and CND badges. And she loved her 2CV .
"She wouldn't stop me if I really wanted it. She doesn't like Steve's car but she doesn't say anything. But I don't want it, especially not if I have to lose my hair. But yours is starting to grow on me, soldier boy, very macho." He reached out and ran his hand through Phillip's newly short, dark hair.
"Get off me, ya poof! And put some clothes on. What's in the bag anyway?" Chris looked a little hurt but a half naked friend stroking his hair gave Phillip an uncomfortable feeling. It wasn't that he didn't like it, it was that he did , a lot, and didn't know why. He'd felt it before occasionally, when Chris would look at him a certain way, but this was stronger.
Chris reached into the bag and pulled out a tee shirt which he pulled on. It was a white shirt with a picture of David Bowie as 'Ziggy Stardust' on the front and a list of tour dates on the back. "I got this at the record shop. And I asked what album 'Rebel Rebel' is on like you said. It's called 'Diamond Dogs' but it's not out until May so you'll have to wait. But I did get these." He pulled out Pink Floyd's ' Dark Side of the Moon ' and Elton John's ' Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ' from the bag.
"Brilliant! Can we listen to the Floyd? Martin said that album's absolutely epic, he couldn't believe how good it is."
"Yeah, alright then." Chris was a bit quiet and 'off' as if he were really put out about something but trying not to show it. Surely it couldn't be a few jokey insults, thought Philip, that kind of banter was routine among friends. And after all, Chris had called him 'Hitler Youth' hadn't he? Whatever it was could wait, as Chris put the album on the stereo and they waited to hear it for the first time.
"Wow" said Philip in awed tones as the last track faded out and the stylus lifted off and returned to its resting position. "Martin was right. Absolutely amazing. That might be the best album ever, I think."
Chris didn't say a word. He was looking really miserable now as he returned to the stereo and restarted the penultimate track, ' Brain Damage .' When it finished he pressed the button to return the stylus and stop the turntable. With tears in his eyes he sang "'And if the cloudbursts thunder in your ears, You shout and no-one seems to hear, And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.'" He paused and wiped his eyes with his forearm and said "But I never will, will I? I can't do this anymore."
"You can't do what? What's wrong? Talk to me Chris, I don't understand."
"No, you don't. That's why I can't be friends with you anymore. I think you should go now."
"Not until you at least tell me what I've done. Is all this just because I called you a poof? I was joking for Christ's sake. And you called me a Nazi, surely that's worse?"
"You want to know? You really want to know? Alright then, God help me, I'll tell you! It's not just because you called me a poof, it's just because I am one and I thought… well, never mind what I thought, I was wrong.
"And I don't know why the hell I just told you that. That music must have fried my brain or something. 'The lunatic is in my head' alright; I'm bound to regret this but somehow I just couldn't stand it anymore. If you care about me at all perhaps you'll at least keep quiet. Now please, just go! I need to be alone."
"I'll go if I have to" snapped Philip. "But I'm bloody well going to have my say first. Calling me Hitler Youth was a joke and I took it that way, but you mean this shit. Why can't you be friends anymore? You're still the same person you were an hour ago. So am I. You think if I look like a skinhead I'll act like one? Beat you up 'cos you're a… like that? That really is an insult and I'm offended.
"I'm not a thug, or a bully, or Sergeant Ellis, or even my dad. I'm Phil, who was your best mate yesterday, and tomorrow if you'll let me. And you're Chris, who was mine. That doesn't change unless you want it to. Oh, and one more thing…" He walked over to Chris, who looked fearful of being attacked, put one hand behind his head, and kissed him fiercely on the lips. "Now we can ruin each other. So you don't have to worry about me talking. See you around." He turned and strode to the door without looking back.
"Wait! Please don't go" called Chris. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you I just… I touched your hair and said it was macho and you jumped back and called me a poof so what was I supposed to think? And I thought 'he's right, that's what I am' and that's why I think of you even when… you don't want to know that.
"And then, listening to the music, you were you , I could see it moved you, but you're turning into this army type who doesn't like poofs and it's hopeless and I'm losing you, except I never really had you, did I? And that 'dark side' track just got to me and suddenly I couldn't stand it. And after I said that I thought how stupid to tell you and now you'll hate me and I don't want to see it in your face. But then you got angry and then you kissed me so now I don't know where I stand. You say you want to be my friend but what else? You don't kiss your friends like that do you? So what do you want?"
Philip was lost for words. "I… er… I can't… Look, this will probably sound stupid or weird or something but… I don't think I know what I want. This is… Fuck, it's confusing. I never thought… Look, here's what I don't want. I don't want to lose you. At least as a friend. And I don't want to harm you or ruin your reputation, or my own. So what happens in this room stays in this room, that's a promise.
"But I never thought… I mean it didn't even occur to me… I mean, you just don't do you? You just assume everyone wants to meet girls and find a special one and, well, you know. When you made that joke about your 'boyfriend' Dad took it serious but I knew and explained it to him. And then you stroked my hair and called me 'soldier boy' and 'macho' and it felt good but I thought you were taking the piss so I gave as good as I got. I never would have called you that if I thought it was true.
"And I didn't kiss you 'like that' really. I did it so you'd know I won't talk. I wasn't thinking about it and I didn't feel much but it wasn't… nasty or anything.
"And you've trusted me so I'll be honest. I've been feeling a bit weird lately. I try to think about girls when I… you know, but it doesn't 'work' and then I see boys watching me, or me watching them and I thought maybe I'm some kind of pervert but this kind ? I never even thought of it. But maybe it makes sense.
"So if it's okay with you can we just leave it and let me think about it? I want to stay friends and I won't hate you but anything else? I just don't know. It seems kind of exciting but it scares me. Maybe we can experiment and see, but not just now.
"So, you gonna let me hear 'Yellow Brick Road' then or what?"
At the change of tone Chris brightened up and stopped looking so serious and pensive. "Okay. But I will say this: Thanks for being a good friend. And take your time. Whatever you decide is fine." He went to put the album on the turntable.
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