Church Parade

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

Some time ago I had joined the scouts as a senior. Even though I was now coming up to eighteen I still found it interesting. I particularly liked teaching the younger boys cooking or map reading which were my specialities. Also four of the other seniors and myself spent a lot of time canoeing on the river. We had gone in for a few competitions. Once we actually came second. We got a small silver cup each. I was proud of that. It sat grandly on my desk at home. I was sure one day we’d win something and I’d get another to go with it.

For my holiday this year I had gone to the scout camp. The whole Group went together. The cubs did one week and the scouts and seniors two. At first I was a bit reluctant to sleep in a tent but I soon got used to it. We persuaded our leader, Mr Simmonds - otherwise known as Simmy - to let us spend most of the camp canoeing. We had a great time. We also had duties around the site. We had to spend a certain amount of time helping out with the scouts or cubs. The Seniors were to provide one evening’s camp fire entertainment. In addition, at night one of us had to be on guard. We took it in turns to do three hours each. It was dead boring. I just stayed by the fire when it was my duty. Nothing ever happened, but, as Mr MacKenzie the Group leader said, it could have done.

Mr MacKenzie was feared by all of the boys from the newest cub to Alec the oldest of us Seniors. It was a condition of joining that you had to accept the Group’s discipline. That was administered by Mr MacKenzie. Cubs got the slipper, scouts the strap and seniors either the strap or a wicked riding crop. I had had the crop during my initiation. Graham, who was then the oldest senior, really whipped it into me. I nearly walked out then. However everyone said Graham had gone too far and I got to give it to him. He left shortly after. He wasn’t missed. I vividly remembered the sear of that crop on my bare bottom. I was determined I would never feel it again.

So I was a good little scout. My uniform was always clean and neat. I turned up to all the events on time. I helped with jumble sales. I once spent ten evenings teaching four scouts cookery. I had a job persuading Mrs Davies, the housekeeper where I lived, to let us use her kitchen but it was worth it. On a couple of those evenings she took over from me. They ended up baking small chocolate cakes. We presented some to Mr Foster, my landlord. He approved. They all gained cookery badges. Mr MacKenzie was pleased with me. I got a public vote of thanks in front of the whole Group.

The one thing that did annoy me though was church parades. On the last Sunday of each month every boy in the Group had to assemble at the school where we met. The Group then marched to the local church about two hundred yards away. After the service we marched back and were dismissed. There was a uniform inspection before hand. Mr MacKenzie had been a sergeant major in the Scots Guards. Woe betide the boy who didn’t turn up, was late, whose uniform was not up to the exacting standards set or who misbehaved during the event. He would have to report to Mr MacKenzie’s house at 3.00 that afternoon. It was rare that a boy left it without having shed a tear or two.

It wasn’t so much that I resented having to go to church. After all, as we were often reminded, we had made a promise. It was all the fuss that went with it. The only good thing about it was that I didn’t have to do any marching. With my friend Dave I had to stand at the churchyard gate, salute the flag as it went past and deal with any problems that might arise. This usually involved tearful boys who hadn’t made it for the start of the parade. They knew they were in for a painful session with Mr MacKenzie at 3.00. After the service it was the same in reverse. We stood at the gate, saluted, went back into the church to ensure nothing had been left behind and then walked up to the school for the dismissal.

At the beginning of November in 1962 things heated up at work. I was the newest filing clerk in the Council’s planning department. Suddenly there was a panic. A planning inquiry that had been scheduled for next April had been brought forward to January. Everything would have to be ready before Christmas. I was taken off my routine job and assigned to the inquiry. I was working directly under the senior planning officer, Mr Lewis. He was harassed and snapped at me quite a lot. Yet I really enjoyed the job. To some extent the Council’s reputation rested on me. I was determined to do well. So I spent a lot of evenings in the office, only going home at about 8.00. I was racking up overtime. In fact I did so much they stopped paying me and I had to take time off instead. This attracted the attentions of the trade union. I was told to slow down. If the Council wanted the work done they should employ more people. I talked to Mr Lewis about it. He was a union man himself and agreed. However he wanted the inquiry to go smoothly. He fixed things with the union rep. I would only do overtime on Wednesdays and Fridays.

Friday night was scout night. I had a word with Simmy. I said I couldn’t come to the meetings until we had the inquiry sorted out. He accepted that but warned me that I was still expected to attend the church parades. There was also a canoeing competition I was keen on doing. The discussion moved to that and his warning faded to the back of my mind.

A few Sundays later I was looking forward to lunch. I had cleaned Mr Foster’s car and done some work on my Geography `A’ level essay. I wandered downstairs, my mind on the inquiry. We had got to the stage of preparing the statements of the Council’s witnesses. My job was to ensure that the bundles of documents that went with them were in the right order, properly paginated and complete. I was getting a bit behind. I had brought one bundle home from work. I would go through it this afternoon. I went into the living room to get a bit of the Sunday paper. Mr Foster was there.

"Why aren’t you at your church parade?" he asked.

I just grinned at him. "You don’t get me that easily sir, it’s not until next week."

"Church parade is the last Sunday of the month isn’t it?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir but that’s next week."

"No Jay, it’s today."

I went cold. Was it really today? I checked the date on the newspaper. It was the 26^th. It really was the last Sunday. I looked at the time - 10.45. The church service was at 11.00. There was no way I could get there in uniform in time. I’d had it.

"You had better get down there," Mr Foster observed.

"Oh, well sir, I was thinking of leaving the scouts anyway."

He looked at me sternly. "Let me tell you one thing, young Jay, you are not running away from this. I know what’s in store for you. Quite right too. If you are not in uniform and out of the house in fifteen minutes I’ll see you at 9.30 in my study. You will face up to your obligations, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," I sighed. Going to his study at 9.30 meant a good spanking. He obviously wasn’t going to protect me from Mr MacKenzie. I trudged miserably up to my room. I got changed into my uniform and made my way to the church. The service had started. I waited for it to finish. I wasn’t the only one. Tony, a scout I had taken on the cookery class, was also there. We whispered to each other. He hadn’t forgotten but the papers for his paper round were late. By the time he had done the round, gone home, had breakfast and changed he had missed the parade. I winced. Mr MacKenzie would say that he should have gone without breakfast. Tony knew this as well as I did.

At last we heard the swelling music that meant the service had finished. I scampered over to my position at the gate. Dave came out of the church and stood opposite me. He grinned in sympathy. The flag went past. We saluted it. Mr MacKenzie at the back shot me a ferocious look. No one had left anything in the church so we walked back to the school in silence. I didn’t feel like talking. When we got there the parade was drawn up to be dismissed. We joined it.

"I would like to see the following boys at my house at 3.00." Mr MacKenzie said, He read out six names and their sins, finishing with, "Tony and Jay late for the parade and missed the service."

I was doomed. Once we were dismissed the other seniors crowded around. They wished me luck. I knew I would need it. I walked slowly home wondering what was in store for me. These 3.00 sessions were talked about among the boys. I had often thought that much of what was said was exaggerated. Well, I would soon find out for myself. I really hoped I wouldn’t get the crop.

I didn’t have much appetite for lunch. My food seemed tasteless. Mr Foster was unsympathetic. I should have taken more care. I could have marked the day on a calendar, made a note in my diary or something like that. Perhaps this would teach me to remember my responsibilities. Mrs Davies was kinder. She offered to iron my uniform again before I left. I was really grateful. I knew the six of us would be subjected to a rigorous inspection before the punishment began.

After lunch I did a bit of work on the inquiry papers but my heart wasn’t in it. At 2.00 I started to get ready. I shined my shoes to what I thought was gleaming perfection. I stripped and put on a pair of clean white pants. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My firm, hairless body looked good. Mrs Davies brought up my uniform and I changed into it. I made sure all the buttons were done up, polished my belt and badges and adjusted the garters for my socks. I cleaned my nails and teeth and combed my hair. I was ready. I went downstairs and asked Mr Foster if there was anything obviously wrong. He had a good look but could find no fault. It was now 2.20 so I had to leave. He wished me luck.

I got to Mr MacKenzie’s house early. With a feeling of dread I went slowly up his garden path and rang the bell. His wife answered. I was directed round the side to the garage. The garage was set a little away from the house. It was an old purpose built construction, made of heavy bricks. There were wooden double doors at the front and, at the side nearest to the house, a smaller entrance. By this door four shivering boys were standing. I joined them. A few minutes later the last boy arrived. We waited there in silence, standing properly at ease, for 3.00 and Mr MacKenzie.

Although I was really scared by now I took note of the others. There were two cubs who were already snivelling. From what had been said at the end of the parade I gathered they had been giggling to each other in the church. I doubted they’d do that again. There was one scout who had arrived on parade without his scarf and another scout who had been cheeky to the cub mistress. Then there was Tony and me. As I was the senior it would be my job to call them up to attention when Mr MacKenzie appeared.

On the stroke of 3.00 the side door to the house opened and Mr MacKenzie stepped out. I gave the order `Attention!’ Not good enough. I had to do it about ten times before he was satisfied by the way I gave the command or that we could come up to attention properly. We all got a blistering rebuke about our standards of drill. Extra lessons were promised. By the time that was finished I already wished I was miles away. I felt a like I was a little boy once more.

Then there was the inspection. He started with the cubs. It didn’t take long for him to have them in tears. The scouts fared little better. One of them had to take his scarf off and put it on again four times before it was perfect. Tony got a real going over for the state of his shoes. He also had dirty fingernails. Mr MacKenzie commented that he would take these transgressions into account when fixing his punishment. Poor Tony went white as a sheet and began shaking like a leaf.

All at once it was my turn. For a start I wasn’t standing to attention properly. Red faced I had to once more go through standing at ease and coming up to attention until he was satisfied. He examined my uniform. My belt buckle needed work, my shoes were only just passable and my socks were not at the right height. I was a disgrace. I didn’t know what to say. I grinned weakly at him. That was a mistake.

"What are you smiling at?" he said curtly. "A few with the crop on your backside will wipe that grin of your face won’t it?"

"Yes, sir, I’m sorry sir."

"You will be," was his reply. I felt sick. Not the crop. It was my turn to start trembling.

We were to be executed in pairs. The two cubs were taken into the garage. There was an ominous silence. Then we heard the unmistakable sound of the whack of a slipper on a bare bottom. It didn’t take long before the whacks were accompanied by wails of distress. I think we all counted how many they were getting - ten each. At one stage Mr MacKenzie could be heard to tell one of them to take his hands away. He got another two. His howls of anguish were audible. Suddenly it all went quiet.

A tear stained cub appeared at the garage door. He summoned two of the scouts and went back inside himself. The scouts took a deep breath and marched in to their fate. Tony and me fearfully waited for our turn. Soon there was a sharp crack from the garage. The strap was being brought down on a recalcitrant bottom. Then the howling began. We both looked at each other pale faced. I thought about going home. But if I did I would get it from Mr Foster and, if I wanted to stay in the Group, I would have to face Mr MacKenzie again. I gritted my teeth and determined to see it through.

All too soon the last howl echoed from the garage. There was a short silence. Then one of the scouts, tears streaming down his face, beckoned us in. I gripped Tony briefly on the arm for luck. My heart in my boots, I stepped through the door. I gasped in horror. Facing the wooden doors at the front of the garage stood four boys. Their shorts and pants were round their ankles. Their shirts were rolled up above their waists. They had their hands on their heads. Backsides red or striped crimson, they still shook with tears. There was room at the end of the line for two more.

I was told to stay by the door. Tony was summoned to Mr MacKenzie. There was a brief, one sided conversation. While I waited my turn I looked around. The garage was used more for carpentry than anything else. There were racks of tools, a stand of wood and a couple of workbenches. There was a smell of sawdust in the air. Within a minute Tony was sent to stand at the other end of the garage. He started to take his shorts down. It was my turn to see Mr MacKenzie. He was standing by a work bench. On it, neatly laid out, was a slipper, a strap and the crop. I didn’t like the look of the crop. It was thin and whippy, made from black leather with a leather tab at the end. I knew it would really hurt.

"Why were you late?" Mr MacKenzie snapped.

I tried to explain but it was no use. He interrupted me before I had finished.

"What you’re saying is that you forgot, isn’t it?"

"Yes sir," I mumbled. "I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again. It’s just that we’re really busy at work."

"That’s no excuse. I see no reason why I shouldn’t punish you. Do you?"

"No sir," I sighed. I knew better than to try and argue my way out of it. It would only make things worse.

"Very well, I’m going to give you the same as Tony, ten with the strap. However I don’t like boys grinning at me when I discipline them. Three with the crop should remind you to take what I say seriously."

"Oh, please sir," I tried, "I wasn’t being disrespectful, honestly. It was just a reflex."

"Well, you’ll know better next time won’t you?"

"Yes, sir." I said resignedly.

"Go over and stand next to Tony and take your shorts and pants down," he ordered. "Then roll your shirt up so it is above your waist."

I went over to the far wall. Tony was standing rigidly to attention, his white pants resting on his khaki shorts. His round, bare bottom was quivering in anticipation of what was to come. I joined him. I undid my belt, unbuttoned my shorts and let them fall to my ankles. I pulled my pants down. They stuck at my knees so I pushed them all the way to join the shorts. I rolled up my shirt tails until they were clear of my waist. Apparently that wasn’t good enough. I had to give them an extra couple of rolls so they were clear of my belly button. For once I didn’t get hard. I was far too worried about what was going to happen. There was a long pause that seemed to last forever. Then I heard the slither of the strap being picked up from the bench. Heavy footsteps drew near.

"Right, you two," he said, " Bend over and touch your toes with your knees straight and your legs wide apart."

We hastily did as we were told. I looked round at Tony. His eyes were tight shut. I concentrated on my feet. Mr MacKenzie came to stand behind us. The strap rested briefly on my bottom. The cold leather sent a chill through me. Then it was drawn away. It came back with a crack that scalded across both cheeks. I couldn’t resist a gasp of pain. Now it was Tony’s turn. It thwacked across his rear end and he gave a little shriek. So it went on, the strokes alternating between us. We both managed the next two but the fourth was too much for Tony. He howled and started to cry. I held out until the seventh but then it was my turn to scream in agony. We both stayed down. As bad as the pain was neither of us wanted any more.

The eighth really got me. It was low, almost on my thighs and I jerked and writhed. In a way it was worse getting it together. Although there was a slight breathing space, hearing the whack on the other guy’s bare bum just made waiting for my next one unbearable. The ninth landed. By now I didn’t care about being a hero in front of the cubs. I just wanted the pain to stop. I was crying and only the last traces of pride stopped me pleading. Then it was my last with the strap. It got me dead centre and once more I howled my sorrow, the tears flowing unchecked down my face.

Tony was allowed to stand. I had to remain where I was. There were three with the crop to come. Mr MacKenzie told Tony to pull his shorts up and go and join the line of quivering boys at the other end of the garage. I heard both of them walk away. The strap was laid on the table. Then footsteps sounded coming back towards me. I imagined Mr MacKenzie striding up to my bare, reddened bottom, the crop twitching in his hand. He came to a halt behind me.

"Please sir," I begged softly, "Please don’t."

The only answer I got was the tap of the crop across both cheeks. I shivered in anticipation. It lifted away. Then with a whop and a thwack it landed on my already scalded bum. I shrieked in pain, jerking so far forward I hit my head against the wall. I yelled again, the agony was so bad. He waited until I steadied down. The next one really hurt. It got me dead centre with the leather tab at the end reaching round to my hip. Once more I howled and cried. I was writhing so much that he had to tell me to keep still. Somehow I managed it. Again there was a light tap on my seat. Again the crop rose. It fell lower down, reigniting the fires left by the strap. I nearly rolled on the floor it was so bad. My yell of pain must have been heard in the street.

"Get up, pull your shorts up and go and stand with the others," was all he said.

Trembling I did as I was told. I knew it wasn’t over yet. Through my tears I saw the other five bare bottoms still glowing, still unrubbed. I walked as if in slow motion towards them. I joined the end of the line and dropped my shorts and pants again. My hands rested on top of my head. Together, the silence only broken by our sobbing, we waited for the final part of our punishment.

He let us stay there for a while. Once more footsteps approached us. " Right, all of you touch your toes."

There was a rustle of movement as six boys bent over. He went to the first cub. "Have you let down the Group?"

"Yes, sir," the boy squeaked. The whack of the slipper followed and the cub howled in pain. So it went down the line, the question, the answer, the whack and the yell. It came to my turn.

"Have you let down the Group?"

"Yes, sir," I replied shakily. The strap came down on my sore and throbbing bottom. I yelped and writhed.

Mr MacKenzie went back to the end of the line. The next question was "Are you sorry?" Again we acknowledged our sorrow with howls of agony as our bare bottoms suffered for our crimes.

He came to the last question, "Will you do it again?" We tearfully promised never to repeat our sins. Our promises were sealed with more cries of anguish as the slipper or strap landed with an echoing crack. We were all sobbing. My backside was a sea of fire. I longed to get up and give it a good rub. But I knew better. I stayed down and let the cold air give me some comfort. It wasn’t much help.

He went back to the bench. I heard him put the implements of our pain on it. Eventually he allowed us to get up. I stood stiffly, my tears beginning to dry. He let us rub ourselves. The garage was suddenly full of the gentle sounds of hurt boys trying to massage away their pain. When we were dressed we had to go outside and stand in line to be dismissed. Leaving the garage was almost like entering another world.

We waited by the door, glad it was all over. The cubs were still sniffling but the rest of us had managed to stem the tears. Mr MacKenzie came out. He walked down the line. We each had to shake his hand and thank him for spanking us. We were dismissed with a curt, "Don’t do it again."

I walked part of the way home with Tony. Neither of us felt like saying very much. We said goodbye at his corner and grinned weakly at each other. I went on alone. I had thoughts of leaving the scouts. Yet I knew I wouldn’t. I was too keen on the canoeing. I had some good friends. But from now on in I would always remember on which Sunday the church parade was to be held.

Jay Bee April 13 1998.