Bandy Papers, 22 Jul 2002

When I was about eighteen or nineteen years old a friend introduced me to a series of books by a Canadian author called Donald Jack. His first book, Three Cheers for Me, was published in 1962 by Doubleday. It tells the story of a young Ontario clergyman's son who decides, after failing at medical school ("...I failed the final year after shooting the Professor of Surgery in the back."), to enlist in the Canadian army to fight in the War to End All Wars. This naïve, prim and erstwhile religious boy finds himself in the trenches in France learning the ways of the world rather suddenly and, sometimes, comically.
I have read a few funny books in my time, but this is one that has me laughing out loud (to my wife's annoyance) even now, when I give it my eighth or ninth reading. Similar in style to Douglas Adams, Donald Jack's narrative wanders hither and thither around the point as his hero, Bartholomew Bandy, demonstrates formidable inadequacy in trench warfare.
In an effort to rid himself of this burden, his C.O. heartily endorses Bandy's request to join the newly-created Royal Flying Corps where the life expectance of pilots is measured in days. Bandy discovers, to his surprise, that in the air he is in his element. He meets his wife-to-be when he force-lands in the grounds of her country house on one of his first solo flights. He soon proves himself a crack pilot and an ace.
The rest of the story completes his rise to Captain where he hobnobs with the upper echelons of the British military command. His brilliance as an aviator is inversely proportional to his abilities as a socialite and his blistering incompetence makes a very enjoyable read.
I am no history buff, nor over familiar with early 20th Century flying, but those who are will recognise that many of the anecdotes are based on true stories, though just one name has been used to protect the rightful heroes - Bandy.
Three Cheers for Me won the 1962 Stephen Leacock Award, which encouraged the seq