My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyout of the lethargies of youth in a couple of minutes. Bayonet champion of the armyand runner-up in the feather-weight boxing championship, he moved withextraordinary speed. A follower of the classic Jim Driscoll, he determined to give methe perfect straight left; for nearly two years I was not allowed to use the right at all.Weaving, swerving, ducking, dodging, he would come at me as it seemed like a flashof lightning. From the moment he was in distance I had to send the left as straight as aram-rod to the chin, and every time in the last split second his glove would intercept itwhile he mimed like a ballet dancer the groggy effect of a good connection. Abrilliant teacher, he took immense trouble with me.Not until the workout had really gone to the limit, was rest permitted; then the intervalwas well used in stories of the ring. I lived in the epic of his tour of India as second toTiger Smith, the redoubtable southpaw who knocked out every heavy-weightavailable within the first round. The saga only came to an end when the supply ofcontenders was exhausted, and the Tiger returned with his laurels to the regimentwhich had nurtured his manly qualities. It was training for the body and also, I stillmaintain, it provided some food for the mind and character. These fights were cleanand fair, were soon forgotten and left no malice. Until human nature becomes purespirit, is not this among the better disciplines for the animal within us?At this stage, life for me was all sword and no gown. The sword quite literallyoccupied my daily life after I was forbidden to box at the public school competition. Itwas a bitter disappointment to young ambition, for the long army training hadprovided some hope that I might successfully face the formidable Etonian who at thattime had been produced by naval training to rule the roost at my weight. For themoment purpose had gone out of life, but was soon happily restored by conversationwith Sergeant-Major Adam. This outstanding athlete was in charge of the wholegymnasium and of fencing in particular. He reminded me that the good legs and fastfootwork I had developed in boxing might help me to success with the sabre, whichdepended much on speed and agility of movement. He was right, for the Hungariansabre champions I saw later in life used to bounce down the piste and back like indiarubberballs. Thus encouraged by Adam I set to work, and it was soon discovered thatnature had added to my speed of foot a rapid reflex action and general aptitude forfencing. He persuaded me to take up foils as well, in which there were far morecontestants at Winchester. The upshot was that I also won the foils competitionagainst boys several years older, and at the age of fifteen years and four months wassent to the public schools competition to represent Winchester with both foil andsabre.It was an exciting day for me and an anxious day for Sergeant-Major Adam, to whomby then I had become greatly attached. He had never yet had a pupil who had won thepublic schools competition with either weapon, although on his record both in armycompetition and as an instructor he might have reckoned to have done so long before.In the previous year his star performer—a long-trained colleger of nearly nineteen—had been surprisingly defeated in the final by an aggressive Harrovian, who to ourdisquiet was again a competitor. A few rapid whispered instructions from Adam onhow to deal with the Harrovian, and we were at it. I was fortunate enough to beat himin an early round, and reached the final. There I came up against a boy of a mostunorthodox and disconcerting action who upset all my classic preconceptions. I wasdown three hits to one, out of a total of five up. I then threw all text-book plans to the29 of 424