Me and My Brothers by Charlie Kray Read Free Book Online Page A

wondered why it was impossible to get through to the twins with words, why they resolved everything with violence. I tried to explain that life was like that in the East End; if anyone tried to threaten you, you hit them first. It was a world which that polite, charming CO would never understand, and he asked me to have a quiet word with the twins. I agreed to try.
    The twins were unimpressed that I’d been having a cosy chat over a cup of tea with the CO; all the guards understood was a punch in the face, they said, and that was what they’d get. Nothing I tried to say cut any ice with them. They simply would not tolerate being ordered around. Tell them to do something and they’d rebel. Ask them, in a civil tone, and they would be fine. Ronnie, particularly, would rebel against a strong person, unless he had reason to respect him. There was one sergeantthere they did like: he was firm but courteous, and they did what he told them.
    The twins didn’t always use violence to make their point. One day a military policeman who had been giving Ronnie a hard time was standing outside the cobbler’s shop where Ronnie was working. Suddenly Ronnie rushed out, blood all over his face, screaming, ‘That’s it! I’ve done it now! It’s all over! Better get in there!’
    The guard, convinced there had been a murder, dashed off to get reinforcements, but by the time they arrived everything was calm. Ronnie, who had smeared the blood over his face after cutting his hand slightly while working, was back at his bench.
    ‘What the hell happened here?’ demanded a senior officer.
    Ronnie looked at him blankly. ‘Nothing,’ he replied. Then he looked at the embarrassed MP. ‘He must be going round the bend. Been working too hard or something.’
    It is a pity that the NCO at the Tower of London rubbed the twins up the wrong way that March morning in 1952, because I’m sure they could have made something of themselves in the Army. They were fit and strong, and they would have loved the physical side; I’m sure they would have become physical training instructors in no time. They both had a lot of guts, too: once, on an assault course, Ronnie jumped from something and landed awkwardly, crashing his knee sickeningly into his chin. But he forced himself to carry on; he had unbelievable determination and hated quitting anything. They both had a gift for leadership, too, and had it been wartime I feel it would have been a very different story. They were the type who could so easily have distinguished themselves with courage in the face of extreme danger.
    As it was, the twins spent what should have been the rest of their National Service giving the Shepton Mallet staff a very hard time. And when they were thrown out on to Civvy Street towards the end of 1953 each of their records bore that ugly scar: Dishonorable Discharge.
    What, I wondered, were they going to do with the rest of their lives?

Chapter Four
    What they could have done was box for a living. They were both above average, particularly Reggie, and I’m sure they could have earned a few bob. I’d seen what boxing in the Forces had done for me and I’d urged them to give it a go in the Army. But, as usual, the twins felt they knew best. When they found themselves back in civvy street, Ronnie had lost interest in fighting and Reggie used the excuse that he would not get a licence because of his Army record. He did train with me, though, and the fitter he became, the more he felt he would like to box professionally.
    Finally he did apply for his licence. However, the Christmas incident with PC Fisher was on his record and would have gone against him but for a lovely gesture by the policeman. He wrote to the boxing board explaining that Reggie’s punch that night was thrown under provocation. ‘Reggie told me to walk away, but I didn’t accept his advice,’ PC Fisher wrote. ‘I tried to grab him, thereby provoking him to hit me to evade arrest.’
    That letter swayed the