On the mess next to ours there was this `Geordie' stoker. He had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. He was as tough as old boots and was the most pugnacious character I had ever met, but like all Geordies he would give you the shirt off his back. He was good to have around in times when a little muscle was needed. Now, on our mess there was this Royal Marine who we called Horseface on account of his long angular features. Mind you, we didn't ever call him this to his face, being built like a brick toilet. He had a slow fuse which could burn very quick if upset, and for a big man he could move like lightning. Two or three of us had gone for a run ashore on this particular day in Madras and strolling along this road we came upon an interesting little scene. There was Geordie having a set to with an American soldier, and by our reckoning wasn't doing too well, because every time he got up the Yank promptly knocked him down again. I think it was only the beer that was keeping Geordie going. Just then who should steam into view but Horseface and with a slight list on he walked over to Geordie who was getting up for the umpteenth time and said, "What's up Geordie, is he bothering you?" Geordie answered, "Every time I get up the bugger won't stand still long enough for me to hit him." Without more ado Horseface turned to the yank and hit him with a fist as big as a shovel. The poor guy went down as if poleaxed. Horseface then picked Geordie up and the pair of them staggered down the road, Horseface's arm around Geordie's shoulder with never a backward glance at the poor yank who was still sleeping peacefully.