England – Cousin Neil's Bren gun

In July, I spent three days with Cousin Neil at his home in West Sussex, in the south of England. Neil’s mother, Annabella, and my father, Charlie, were first cousins, which makes Neil and me second cousins, but I always call him Cousin Neil. (He and I have a shared interest in our family heritage, the MacKenzies of Lochcarron, but we have not got far, as MacKenzies are numerous up there).

Cousin Neil is unused to house guests, and I am out of practice with sharing meal preparation, but once we had worked out some menus – Neil is traditional British in his tastes – we settled into a good rhythm. At breakfast time, I made porridge in the microwave while Neil took care of the tea and toast. For lunch, we had poached eggs the first day; a country pub meal of battered cod, peas and chips washed down with a cider shandy the second day; and sandwiches of egg and cress, and roast beef and pickle, accompanied by a pot of tea, at a country café on the third day.  The first evening, Neil prepared a dinner of mackerel from his well-stocked freezer, accompanied by cabbage, and potatoes boiled in their skins and served with plenty of butter; and for dessert, there were plump canned blackberries and vanilla ice cream. I enjoyed this meal so much that I requested an exact repetition the second evening.   On the third evening, we went out for a roast beef dinner at a pub.

Back in May, I had ordered eight paperback copies of my novel Deserter to be sent c/o Neil. 

“I was hooked as soon as I read the passage on cleaning a Bren gun,” Neil said. “How did you get it so authentic?”

It had been nearly five years since I wrote that passage, and I had to stop and think. “Research.” I said, “Far too much research – on the internet, in books, talking to people.”

Neil has a large collection of World War II books, weapons and memorabilia. He exhibits annually at the War and Peace show in Kent and has found that visitors are particularly attracted to his Bren guns (he owns two). We talked about why Bren guns arouse such interest, and I told him about a retired doctor friend of mine who, on reading an early draft of Deserter, became animated when discussing the Bren gun passage. It reminded him of his army cadet days in Christchurch just after World War II; the teacher was a veteran who fired the boys’ imaginations by darting from tree to tree with a Bren. 

My brother, Paul, also handled Bren guns – he dismantled and reassembled them when he was a cadet in the Air Training Corps in the 1960s. "The Brens were used by the ATC because they were interesting and available", Paul said.  He remembers being tested on use of the Bren and enjoying the technical challenge.  The cadets also fired Brens on the rifle range. “You lay down on the ground behind them, and under rapid fire they had the tendency to pull you forward.”

On my second day in West Sussex, Neil and I had just returned home from a visit to Weald and Downland Living Museum – and my mind was full of oak timbers, conservation builders and Elizabethan cottages – when Neil appeared with a Bren gun, and placed it on the floor. “Here, you can take this apart. Someone who has read your novel might ask how it’s done.”

Photo: Ann Barrie

Bren guns were the last thing on my mind at that moment, and I felt less than enthusiastic, but Neil was encouraging. “I’ll help you. We’ll lay a towel on the carpet for you to spread the parts, because there’ll be some grease. But get the feel of the gun first.”

Photo: Ann Barrie 

With Neil's help I dismantled the gun:

Photo: Ann Barrie

And got it back together again:

Photo: Ann Barrie collection

My only previous experience in handling guns was when, towards the end of writing Deserter, I went to some introductory sessions at the Wellington Small Bore Rifle Club. After the compulsory safety talk, I was allowed to choose a rifle, and shoot at target under supervision. Here are the guns that beginners can borrow – I chose Neville, of course.

Photo: Ann Barrie

After a few weeks at the club, I decided I lacked the patience to continue with the sport, but those sessions helped me appreciate the power of guns and the need for strict safety precautions. 

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I would imagine that Neil is popular with the public when exhibiting at shows, as he is knowledgeable and patient, and has memorabilia and models to suit all ages.  

Photo: Ann Barrie

Another thing he organises is a memorial corner featuring his family's military history:

Photo: Neil Rowland

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Neil had a long career as a railway signalman. I'll conclude this post with three of Neil's photos of signal boxes, along with his description of the first one: 

"The photo with me at the frame is Gatwick, where I was the box boy. My job was to book the times of the trains, answer the phones and keep the place clean. Once the signalman had taught you the frame, you would work the box most of the time unless a manager or someone else came up, then you would just do your job & make the tea. You were not meant to work a box until you were 18 and had passed at the school." 

Gatwick signal box. Photo: Neil Rowland

This second box interior is Hove, where Neil worked for many years:

Hove signal box. Photo: Neil Rowland

Photo of Hove signal box looking down the line to the railway station:

Hove signal box. Photo: Neil Rowland

Blog by Ann Barrie