The Black Swan
a story from the Second World War

Every Squadron had a "character". We were lucky - we had two! They were Stanke and Sturm, an inseparable couple of privates with burlesque-sounding names. Stanke and Sturm, however, saw nothing funny about it. They said "With names like ours, we'll probably form a law partnership after the war."

By the time the sun set on paydays, Stanke and Sturm were broke. They would find a blackjack game going on in one of the barracks and join in. We were paid in English pound notes which were worth $4.03 each, and the guys, not being used to this, would throw a pound note down on the table as though it was a dollar. So a fellow could blow his entire month's pay in a matter of minutes. Stanke and Sturm didn't have a chance. Not only were they lousy blackjack players, but they never did figure out the exchange rate of their money.

One payday, after they had lost their money in a game, our characters told John Martini that even though they were penniless, they were going to The Black Swan to have a couple of pints. Martini doubted that stingy old Perkins, the publican over there, would GIVE a pint of beer to his own mother!

"Okay, Martini, come along tonight, and we'll show you," said Sturm. "We've got a plan." Martini came to me and said, "Hey Sarge, Stanke and Sturm are going to try to pull a fast one on old Perkins tonight at the Black Swan. Let's go along and see if they can do it."

The Black Swan was one of our favourite watering holes. It was an ancient pub a quarter of a mile from our front gate, in the tiny village of Old Weston. There were about ten houses, a store, a church and the pub. Nobody knew the age of the pub, but the Shadbolts, who had lived next door, told us their house had been built in 1622 and the Black Swan was old at that time.

That evening, an hour after sundown, the four of us started down the road to Old Weston - Stanke and Sturm, Martini and I.

We walked leisurely along the hedgerows and noticed that aerial bombs had been placed end-to-end close to the hedges so Jerry couldn't spot them from the air with his reconnaissance cameras.

We arrived at the pub, pushed the blackout curtains aside, and went in. cigarette smoke was so thick in the dimly lit interior that it resembled the famous London fog. On our right was a long bar running half the length of the room. Perkins, the publican, stood behind the bar with three tall levers sticking up in front of him. When he drew a pint of beer into a mug, he placed one hand on top of the desired lever, tilted it slightly toward himself, and the dark, warm, uncarbonated beer (or ale) drained into the mug that he held in his other hand. We had learned that it was no use to order a glass or bottle of beer, because a pint in a mug is what you'd get anyway.

"Pints have been served in our pubs from time immemorial, and we're not about to change it simply because you Yanks come over here and ask for a bloody bottle."

To the left of the bar, and filling the rest of the room, were a dozen or so round wooden tables. A dart board hung on the back wall. Blackout curtains covered the windows.

There was another employee in The Black Swan, the barmaid. She delivered pints from the bar to the tables. She was obviously frustrated and fed up with the constant "cute" remarks coming from the Yanks.

The publican sold cigarettes singly over the counter. The barmaid was not allowed to bring them to the tables.

Stanke and Sturm ambled up to the bar and stationed themselves directly in front of old Perkins and his levers. Our two characters then initiated their plan.

Stanke: "There's two pints in a quart."

Sturm: "You're crazy. They are four pints in a quart."

Stanke: "Bet you a shilling there's two pints in a quart."

Sturm: "Ya got a deal. Hey, pub, how many pints in a quart?"

Publican: "Blimey, Yank, there's two pints and always has been."

Stanke thanked the publican and the two of them wandered over to a table near the far wall. As they were sitting down, Sturm held up his hand, snapped his fingers and said, "Hey barmaid."

When the barmaid arrived at their table, Sturm said, "Give us two pints on the house."

The already frustrated barmaid said, "Wot ya mean, two on the 'ouse?"

Stanke: "That's right, woman, two pints on the house. That's what the pub told us."

Stanke stood up, faced the bar, held up two fingers and shouted, "Hey, pub didn't ya say two pints?

Publican: "Yes, that's right - two."

This brilliant scheme had worked so well that Stanke and Sturm started making the rounds of all the pubs in the area. It always worked.