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Gillian B : 12 - A Game of Soldiers (mm/f, Ff/mm)

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Gillian B : 12 - A Game of Soldiers (mm/f, Ff/mm)

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Gillian B's stories
13 - A Game of Soldiers
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By Gillian B

Sat Sep 19 21:26:42 GMT Daylight Time 1998

This is another tale from my childhood. It would have been in about 1967, when I was 13, my brother Bob 12 and his friend Jon (yes, Jon(McA) who also posts stories here) probably 11.

In a one of his stories (in the May archive), Jon(McA) described the "[urlhttp://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=37&t=3580]Burglars[/url]" game we played at one time. The problem was that the game depended to some extent on physical strength. In consequence, whichever team had the smallest player (usually Jon, who was youngest) was virtually guaranteed to lose.

We evolved a slightly different game called "Commandos" or "Spies" or "Red Indians" or "Man from UNCLE" according to recent television viewing, whim, location and, sometimes, costume. Whichever scenario, the rules were the same. If you successfully stalked one of the others, you tapped them on the shoulder and they were officially "caught". Once "caught" you had to submit to being tied up, usually gagged and sometimes blindfolded by your captor. If you came across one of the others tied up (but not by you) you had to release them and were immune from immediately being "caught" by them until you had left the vicinity. The winner was whoever managed to catch all the others. The game was usually played just by Bob, Jon and me, but my friend "Janet" and occasionally others sometimes joined in. The emphasis was on skill in creeping up and we were fairly evenly matched. It wasn't much of a game, but it passed the odd afternoon.

Things went a bit wrong when Bob and Jon started using the game as a means of getting me out of the way so they could do something on their own. I found myself tied up by one or the other of them then not being freed for a very long time. This happened two or three days running one school holiday (Autumn half term week I think) and I began to suspect that the boys were off doing something else while I was still tied up.

The variation we were playing was the "Commando" game, which basically meant that we played it in the garden, wore jeans and sweaters and woolly hats and crawled about a lot. (Cultural note: "Commandos" are British marines - seaborne soldiers.) Anyway, I found myself propped up against a tree. I had socks over my hands and my wrists were tied behind my back with one of my Mum's old nylon stockings. My ankles and knees were tied the same way. My school scarf was tightly tied round my upper arms and chest. I was cleave gagged with one of my own long hockey socks and blindfolded with another. I was completely unable to free myself and was getting very bored and not a little irritated sitting there chewing on a sock. Worse still, a fly kept landing on my face. (Let me tell you, having a fly crawl across your nose when you are tied up, gagged and blindfolded is on a par with the Chinese water torture.)

I could hear my Mum pottering around in the garden. She usually just left us to our own devices whatever peculiar games we were playing, but I made lots of urgent-sounding noises through my gag and she came over to me. Mum sat down beside me, removed my blindfold and ungagged me. I said that I thought the boys had wandered off and told her just how cross I was feeling. She agreed that it sounded unfair and went to investigate. She came back a few moments later and confirmed that the boys had gone back into the house and were watching something on television. She untied me and we plotted together to turn the tables the next day.

We suspected that the boys were working together and had an arrangement that whoever found and tied me first would alert the other so they could meet up somewhere else in the garden. Mum came up with the idea of using me as a decoy. We chose a quiet corner of the garden. Mum deliberately chose a tie-up (actually a fake tie up) that was different from any usually used by me or by the boys just to arouse curiosity. First, she tied my ankles with a scarf but didn't tie a proper knot - just a half hitch. Next she simulated tying my wrists in front of me by wrapping a scarf tightly round them but instead of tying a knot, she put the ends into my hands to hold secure. Then, with me sitting on the ground with my knees bent up, she pushed my "tied" wrists down to mid-shin level, so I was hugging my knees. Lastly, she looped a scarf round both my elbows, passing below my knees and this time used a real knot. This tie-up would have been very snug and secure if it had more knots in it. To finish off, Mum tied a scarf over my mouth so it would look as if I was gagged and hid herself nearby armed with scarves and stockings while we waited. (Winter scarves supplemented by socks and stockings were our preferred tying up equipment at that time.)

Bob happened on the scene first. He was surprised to see me already tied up and came over to me to investigate more closely. While he was inspecting my bonds, I let go of my fake wrist binding and pulled my arms free of the loop under my knees. Bob's attention was held by my sudden release and Mum pounced while he was distracted. She tied his wrists behind his back with a scarf, tied his ankles with another and then hitched them together into a hog-tie with a long sock. Another sock served as a gag. (This was the first time I had seen a hog-tie and I was most impressed.) By the end of the process I had freed myself and was able to help hold him down.

Bob was now the bait. Jon came on the scene a few minutes later and looked startled. This clearly wasn't in their plan. While he hesitated, we made our move and a few moments later Jon was hog-tied too.

Mum and I had further plans. Between us, we carried first Bob and then Jon to the lawn at the back of the house. The washing line ran between a steel pole set in the lawn and a hook in the back wall of the house. One at a time, we undid the boys' hog-ties and propped them up sitting with their backs against the pole. We re-tied their hands in front of them and tied them back-to-back with long scarves round them and the pole at chest and waist level, also pinning their arms to their sides. Their ankles were already tied and we added another scarf just below knee level. Finally, we hitched their wrist and knee bindings with a stocking each, preventing them from lifting their hands up to their gags.

Just as the boys had tied me up and gone to do something else, so it was my turn now. Mum had planned this part with me too. It was lunch time, so Mum brought a picnic lunch out of the house which we proceeded to enjoy on the lawn in front of the boys as we soaked up the autumn sunshine. Of course we untied the boys and let them join in a bit later, but only after Mum and I had already eaten the best bits.

Moral: A big sister is not to be trifled with and will have her vengeance if crossed.

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