I always feared that this would one day happen. The recriminations of old “gongs war” loyalties, the re-opening of old scores and rivalries. However, fear not. I am now in a position to be able to put the record straight about the days leading up to Tavern Hill, and to spare poor Dux any further embarrassment as to his old loyalties.
As you are aware JRT, the conflict on this side of the pond took on a significance and bitterness all of its own, which continued even after the cessation of hostilities on your side. Derbyshire, like much of central and southern England was staunch JRT territory during the conflict, and the heavy artillery relief column commanded by Old Dux with his able lieutenant Olga, was indeed on route to Tavern Hill that afternoon flying the JRT banner.
However, the Landlord of the “Cloven Hoof”, a certain Lucifer Jacob Robinson was and is a well known SNAFU rabble-rouser in these parts. In fact, it is rumoured that there are still several SNAFU soldiers hiding somewhere in the beer garden who refuse to believe the conflict is over and will not come out. On that fateful day, news of the approach of the heavy artillery column under Major General Dux had reached Spennymoor, and Robinson was ordered to stop it by whatever means possible. Candy Jack himself, aware that the presence of Olga on the battlefield would almost certainly have turned the battle in JRTs favour, ordered the dispatch of 250 gallons of pure “Dog”, industrial strength Newcastle Brown Ale to the Cloven Hoof, conveniently located on the relief columns line of march. Dux himself will be able to fill you in on the events of that night at the Cloven Hoof, but to my knowledge, the hostelry has still not been rebuilt and the nearby woods have never completely grown back again.
Northern England was, and still is, pure SNAFU heartland. Some say this is because the old maritime and shipbuilding heritage of the area naturally lent its support to the old seadog and captain of the USS SNAFU. Others say that because there are only 5 letters in SNAFU, the Northerners found it much easier to spell than the more resonant and complicated “Jolly Roger Too” Whatever the reason, that love of SNAFU was an enduring love. To this day, SNAFU flags still fly over backyards across the region, many refuse to drink in the same bar as others simply because someone was once heard to mutter "I liked that last story by JRT" and anyone with a beard is still treated with deep suspicion, often finding themselves refused service in shops and bars.
Many contest that it is this very same heritage, one that nurtured the birth of the modern industrial age, watched over the creation of western socialism and formed a pedestal upon which rests the whole of the modern British nation, is what compelled these people in their love of SNAFU and all he stands for.
Others say they just like a good fight and they drink too much. Whichever it is, SNAFU is deeply loved in these parts and the conflict will always be long remembered. The 8th January, still celebrated as “Tavern Hill Day”, is always difficult. Groups of youths, many of whom are too young even to remember the conflict, gather on street corners and hurl abuse and anything else they can find at each other. Later on, effigies made of straw, supposed to represent JRT, are wheeled through the streets for all and sundry to jeer and throw rotten fruit at. By teatime, feelings are running high, and the event almost inevitably degenerates into a huge fracas. In fact, it has been noted that, on occasion, the celebrations themselves have often turned into battles bigger than the one they are purported to be celebrating.
