Sam and Tommy

Sam was nine and although stocky to adults he seemed a giant to a four-year-old, like me. Sam had greasy short black hair, cut, as most of us, in the compulsory short back and sides with a tuft on the top. His top hair did not flop over his eyes, he made sure of that, nothing would distract his fighters vision. There must have been some endearing features about Sam, but I could not see them at the time, for Sam was a thug, violent, and casual. Tommy his sidekick was taller although a few months younger, was a pleasing boy, with attractive features. His angelic face, blonde wavy hair, kept longer than other boys’ hair and wide eyes meant he could lie convincingly. Sam and Tommy went around together. Never mixed with the other boys’ just dominated them. Sam would beat a child to the ground, once on the ground he was content to leave them there, as a natural end of violence. Tommy had no natural limit to his violence, and would kick anyone on the ground mercilessly until he was tired of it. If Sam decided to fight you, the ground was safety, but if Tommy was with him the ground was a dangerous place, standing up brought you into conflict with Sam again. Seeing both walking about, looking for trouble was something to avoid.

It was in the autumn that things started to change. Tommy became ill. Much to everyone’s surprise Sam seemed to care. Sam upset at loosing his friend during the day embarked on frustration diversion, taking it out on smaller boys. Peter and I were prime targets so did our best to escape to the safety of the boiler room, an area clearly out of bounds and punishable by a severe thrashing. It was just a matter of scale, the matrons did not intentionally leave evidence of beating if they could help it. Sam was not bothered, a good bruise was a good advertisement and a warning to others not to fight back. After a few days Tommy returned to the fold though not quite up to his normal manipulative self. He started to cough. He coughed most of the day and kept us awake at night. Told to use a handkerchief, he walked about with the rag held firmly against his face coughing frequently. He became a nuisance, the matrons could not make themselves heard over the coughing, so eventually sent him to the dormitory to stay in the room, alone. Sam seem concerned, became argumentative with the matrons for not looking after Tommy, and was severely thrashed, to our pleasure. By now Tommy was on 10 handkerchiefs a day. He was out of sight except for meal times where his constant coughing brought unwelcome attention from the staff. It was only the laundry maid that raised the alarm. The handkerchiefs sent for washing were getting redder and redder, extremely difficult to clean. She complained about the increase of blood in the wash.

Matron arrived in the morning, woke us up and sent us off to be cleaned after wetting the bed, but none of us had. All beds in the dormitory were dry and all children very tired after a night of listening to Tommy coughing. Tommy’s pillow was splattered with blood. Sam was angry complaining even against matron and severely beaten. Happily the rest of us went to breakfast, Sam was kept in detention. That evening Tommy was taken away. Sam was on his own. He became quiet and resentful. He seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, and did not take the opportunity to thrash other boys in his way. He was not reformed, just lashed out when necessary, to maintain his position, but had no inclination to seek out victims. He became more rebellious to the matrons, and beaten frequently. Sam and two other boys were taken away after breakfast, they obviously were on a long journey. It was a few days before we realised that he would not be coming back. We did not care where he went, most thought he had gone straight to hell, we had all prayed for that frequently, and now our prayers were answered.

No one child dominated the orphanage, a vacancy had arisen for those inclined, and violent enough. The problem was that most of the remaining eight or nine-year-old boys were evenly matched. Life was becoming unbearable for those at the bottom of the heap. All boys beat us, it was the natural first step to domination. Anarchy ruled, fights were frequent, and vicious, there seemed to be no natural boundary or limit to the violence. We had to avoid everyone. In the dormitory it was not possible to avoid. Peter and I decided it could not continue we had to pray for the return of Sam and Tommy.

Sam and Tommy did not return, but other boys, the orphans began to leave. God moves in mysterious ways!

By the end of winter the fit orphans had gone. All that was left were the sickly, and new children from homes that had parents, but had been mistreated. Children like us