Gunner Peake on parade
Philip Best
A dramatised version of Mervyn Peake's novel Mr Pye is currently being shown on Channel Four.
Mervyn Peake came into my life early in the last war when a three-ton lorry delivered a draft of recruits to our London dockland gun-site. That among them was Gunner Peake became evident when it was reported to me that out of all the men with whom he had shared the short journey from their training depot, Peake was the only recruit to succeed in losing almost all of the issue of personal equipment for which he ' had signed but a few hours previously.
At a time when we were sorely in need of reinforcements, eager to receive almost any man who could assimilate drill and enough discipline to ensure the safety of his colleagues, Gunner Peake proved to be an altogether traumatic experience, for he had neither requirement. Detailed to a gun team, he was rapidly removed when his incurable habit of dropping the 60Ib fixed ammunition began to unnerve others of his crew. Attempts to teach him manipulation of fire-control instruments which required smooth, continuous operation proved dis- astrous when his own unpredictability con- veyed itself to the weapons predictor. Fortunately for everyone's peace of mind Gunner Peake finally became a permanent cookhouse orderly. In that steamy atmosphere, under the eye of the Sergeant Cook, he quietened down and We all felt more secure. Problems then arose over Peake's personal habits. Nothing the NCOs could do would bring him to tidy his kit, fold his blankets, clean his equipment, (replaced since losses in transit again deductions from pay 'as laid down') 0°1:' indeed, his person. In our small urn" punishments were necessarily limited. boss of leave privilege was out, for none of us got any. There was extra guard duty, °I' fatigues. Gunner Peake on guard duty Was unthinkable. He was already permanently on fatigues. As time went by there was no change for the better. In due course it was decided that Peake be removed from his barrack room, where his strange presence Was making his colleagues jumpy, to a coral' gated iron lean-to by the cookhouse. There he lived peacefully for the remainder of 1115 short stay. Strangely, now he was on his own, Peake began to create a semblance °di order in his tiny dwelling. His bedding an kit took on an almost military n 1' neatness' When visited during orderly inspectio, would rise from his bunk and actually stall° to attention. Always, clutched in a grimy hand, would be whatever he happened flo be drawing on at the time, for all his off-duty moments were occupied in draw" ing on something, no matter what. Qt11 a obviously Peake was not gregarious. In crowd he was unable to function. The end of our relationship came clurii.$ . an inspection by our Brigade Command at There was an understanding among us that whenever we were visited by importall persons Gunner Peake was to be kept 0.4 out of sight, but this time something wen horribly amiss — though I firmly believe Peake knew full well what he was up t°' With jaundiced eye and the aura of ferocity we imagined he practised avidly in some quiet secluded place, our esteemed brigadier watched from the Command Post as we prepared for action. Warning had reached us of the approaching Luftwaffe. There was a flurry of shouted orders, a clash of breechblocks as the guns were loaded, then silence as gun-sergeants awa- ited the fire order. Nobody moved. Air- raid sirens died in the distance as the long gun barrels moved slowly through bearing and elevation, on target. Suddenly, on stage left, a terrible appari- tion came in sight. Staggering and bowed low under a great load of blankets (skeleton gun crews slept in their emplace- ments; these blankets were relief crews' bedding) there advanced Gunner Peake. What could be seen of him suggested he was clad in his habitual grease-darkened fatigues. For purposes unknown he carried an alarm clock. There was a collective "udder as he was recognised, and trepida- tion when the brigadier's complexion dark- ened to match his hat. In utter silence the dreaded figure drew nearer, to pass slowly between Command Post and guns. Abruptly, with ear-piercing clamour, Gun- ner Peake's alarm clock went off. We watched aghast as Peake stopped, to gaze ruefully at his shrilling clock and lift a finger to his lips as if to hush it. We gazed In. disbelief as he stuffed the thing, still „ridging out, into his filthy denim blouse. :Ilea, hoisting his untidy burden, he am- bled off to vanish into a gun emplacement. Almost immediately we were in action as the enemy aircraft came within our range. The first salvo fired brought Gunner Peake from his emplacement like a rocketing Pheasant. Blanketless now, head back and thin arms pumping he shot past us and our apoplectic Brigade Commander back to ace he had come. That night, on the brigadier's express order and with kit complete once more, Gunner Peake was transported to Regim- ental Headquarters. We were never to see wee again. But what Peake left behind Were our collective memories of his stranne 5 almost languid hopelessness and Inability to communicate, yet also of his somehow endearing personality. And his wonderful drawings, masses of them. Drawings on the back of used envelopes, 011 bits of packing paper, odd pieces of car. dboard. Where they were sufficiently ..4Iboothed, even the walls of his small den brilliant enriched by them. He had drawn 0 rilhant caricatures of many of us, galleons tfull sail and discerning sketches of the bombed and devastated landscape in which le existed. Among them we found many aat d frankly were disturbing: of grotesque gli .monstrous figures from depths of agMation we simply could not contem- plate.
fAnd now there is even talk of a musical ° be based on Mr Pye. A far cry indeed alarm the days of Gunner Peake and his cuarm clock.
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