This is a true account of a birching which took place at Haslar Senior Closed Borstal, Gosport Hants England in 1937. The author has never been named.
WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ ACTUALLY OCCURRED. THE TELLER OF THIS TALE IS STILL ALIVE AND WELL WHAT HE EXPERIENCED WAS ALSO EXPERIENCED BY MANY OTHERS IN BORSTALS IN ENGLAND.....
The events which I am about to relate took place a very long time ago, in 1937, but they are vividly etched in my memory as if they happened yesterday, and above all the dramatic and unbearably painful climax. This only lasted for some five minutes, though at the time it seemed more like fifty minutes, in fact like an eternity. It was a devastating, unforgettable experience that almost certainly changed the course of my life. But this is the end of the story, so I'd better go back to how it all began.
My parents split up when I was only five and I spent the next few years in a succession of children's homes and foster homes. I was always wild and stubborn, difficult to handle, rebellious. For me, as I approached my teens, authority was something to be thwarted and opposed at every turn and so I was constantly getting into trouble. I wanted excitement and enjoyed taking risks. At first this was confined to roaming the streets in a gang of lads, indulging in fights with other gangs; but eventually I found this too tame and I started to go for more daring exploits. I embarked on a series of break-ins to office buildings and factories, just for thrills. For quite some time I got away with it but in the end I was caught and had to appear in juvenile court. As I was only fourteen I escaped with just a lecture and a stern warning that any other offenses would be dealt with severely. I simply ignored all this and was soon at it again, stealing from shops and breaking into houses and stores. Inevitably, I was ultimately caught and again brought before the court. This time I was sent to an approved school for a year.
The purpose of such places was to reform youth like me - to improve their social attitudes and behaviour - but in my case things did not work out that way. It was just another opportunity for me to tilt at authority. I defied the rules continually and was generally uncooperative and wilful. The school was strict and the cane and strap were used often to punish breaches of regulations and many other types of offences. My attitude was such that I frequently had to report for a caning or a strapping, sometimes on the bare bottom; but although these punish- ments always hurt, in some cases considerably, they only deterred me for a short period of time before yet again I was breaking the rules, being insolent and behaving in a thoroughly insubordinate fashion. Even some quite severe doses of the cane failed to tame my anarchic and rebellious nature. As a result, my sentence of one year was ex- tended by six months, and I finally left the establishment when I was fifteen and a half, still anti-social and strongly anti-authority.
During the following six months or so, I lived a more normal life, residing in a local authority hostel for young people and working on a building site which toughened me up physically and made me quite muscular. But it didn't last, after a row with the foreman I was sacked. After this, I simply drifted and before long resumed my wayward behaviour. To cut a long story short, I ended up being sent to a Borstal for eighteen months, aged almost sixteen and a half. The regime was far stricter than at the approved school, aimed at producing obedience and compliance so as to return the inmates to society fully rehabilitated. That was the theory; in practice it was more like a training scheme for apprentice law-breakers, with some fifty teenage lads living together, all whom knew plenty about all sorts of villainy. Many, like me, were rebellious and out of hand. Anyway, I soon settled into the routine of Borstal life and continued to clash with authority.
Corporal punishment was a prominent feature, and my persistent disobedience earned me repeated sessions with the cane. I often received eight hard strokes on the bare bottom and twelve strokes was not uncommon. These were invariably well laid on by a well-built officer and hurt severely, so that even my obstinate spirit was subdued for a time. Yet these punishments did not quell me permanently, and also I was gaining a reputation among the lads as someone who could take a really stiff caning, so I felt the need to live up to it. Apart from my constant defiance, I also absconded twice, on the second occasion burgling a house. Each time I was brought back and punished with the cane, receiving ten strokes on the first occasion and fifteen for the second. These were among the most painful punishments I'd had to date - the second of them, particularly, deterred me from trying further escapes. On each occasion I had to report to the punishment room in the evening, dressed only in underpants, bedroom slippers and dressing gown. I was then ordered to remove the robe, lower my underpants and grasp my ankles with my hands. The cane cracked down with real severity, wringing yells from me and making me regret committing the offence.
However, although these stiff canings made me decide against escaping again, they failed to break my stubborn attitude and wilfulness. I continued to challenge and oppose the system in every way and at the slightest opportunity. Clearly this could not be allowed to carry on for much longer, after various instances of insubordination, I was called before the superintendent. He said that since repeated warnings and punishments had apparently done little to improve my attitude to authority, something far more drastic might shortly be necessary. I was told that he would tolerate no more of my rebellious behaviour and that he was at the limit of his patience. He gave me an ultimatum; the very next time I committed an act of defiance or other major offence, I would be birched. This was a threat that had to be taken seriously. Although now a tall and quite sturdy lad approaching seventeen and a half, I knew that the Birch was a formidable instrument. Even at Borstal it was rarely used, being reserved for serious offenses such as assaulting an officer or for persistent escapes. Some of the lads had told me about birching,, for several months before I arrived at the Borstal a youth named Ron had been given fifteen strokes with the Birch after absconding for the seventh time.
The punishment had taken place in the gymnasium, witnessed by all the others lads and the entire staff. That occasion was still a talking point among us at recreation periods, and it had obviously been a memorable experience for all concerned, it still was a talking point in recreation periods. Ron was still there, as were some of the inmates that had been present at the birching. He was now nearly eighteen and due for release very soon, he was a big, heavy young man, quiet and well -behaved; but he assured me that at one time his attitude and conduct had been very similar to mine, especially in his refusal to conform. When I asked him what had changed all this, he frankly stated that it had been his birching. He said that it; "had hurt his bum like hell." The punishment had been so severe that overnight he had become cooperative. "I never wanted to go through anything like that again." he told me. "And if that meant going along with the system, then O.K."
