There are very few things known for certain about the man they called ‘Sarge’ apart from his broad accent which clearly showed his roots came from the other side of the Irish Sea.

 

He appeared in Denton in the years after the Second World War – no-one really knew where he came from or who he was but he took up ‘residence’ in the area around the brook below what was then Perrett’s Yard (now Wareing Lane).

 

He built himself a makeshift home out of wood and tarpaulins and was soon to be seen about the village and was especially in evidence at the Red Lion pub!

 

It was clear he was no ‘down and out’ as he kept himself clean and smart with large highly polished boots and an upright manner. He was polite, almost cultured and clearly had at least some money he could invest over the bar.

 

He could be a bit ‘lively’ when he had spent a long time in the pub but was rarely any trouble and was well-liked. Gradually, often after his pub visits, he would allow snippets of information about himself to come out.

 

He had fought in the Great War as a young man and had been injured by shrapnel but survived to tell the tale. When hostilities broke out again in 1939 he was one of the first in the queue to join up again. However his age was to hold him back. The recruiting officer asked him how old he was and the reply came that he was 36. Clearly this reply was treated with some suspicion and he was told to ‘come back again when you are 26!’

 

Not to be deterred however he kept pestering the powers that be to allow him back into uniform and eventually – probably just to get him off their back, they agreed. He was not exactly put into front line action however as he was despatched to an officers’ mess where he was given general duties doing a variety of jobs such as looking after the mess premises and grounds etc.

 

What was never mentioned was that he was actually 56 years of age at the time! He was obviously well thought of however as he eventually gained the rank of Sargeant and hence his nick-name of ‘Sarge’ came about.

 

After the war how he ended up in Denton is a mystery. However he did have means in the form of war pensions from both wars which explained why he never seemed too hard up.

 

If pressed he gave his name as John James Murphy – but always preferred Sarge.

 

His life down the brook became particularly cold in winter and he was known to move himself and his kit to the cow shed at Denton Lodge Farm where farmer Gerald Russell would happily allow him to enjoy the extra warmth the beasts could offer.

 

He was even known to spend the odd night in the church – it was in the days before churches had to be locked at night and one New Year’s Eve (or more precisely early on New Year’s Day) the church bells rang out – at an ungodly hour – Sarge had decided it was too far from the pub to the cowshed that night!

 

As a regular pub goer he was well known to Mackie and Lil Hollowell and it was not uncommon for Lil to provide a cooked dinner for such a good customer (even though this was long before the days pubs ever sold food).

 

In the fullness of time Sarge somehow found accommodation in Bedford at some kind of hostel and moved there but still visited Denton, and the pub, regularly getting the last bus back to Bedford at the end of the evening.

 

However this arrangement was to end one night when after a night’s enjoyment at the Red Lion, Sarge and another resident at the Bedford hostel had an altercation as a result of which he was asked to leave.

 

Back in Denton he was to find new accommodation. Denton Barn Farm (right in the North of the parish off the Whiston Road) had been vacated by the Woods family and the buildings had fallen into disrepair. However it was just what Sarge was looking for and luxury compared with what he had before.

 

So he was now to be seen marching smartly up the Whiston Road – often with his trusty shillelagh behind his back and tucked under his arms giving him an even more upright look. He still got his occasional dinner from Lil at the Pub and sometimes was given some produce from the allotment gardens at Church Close (on the sharp bend in the Whiston Road just outside the village) by one of the many Dentonians who tended vegetables there.

 

The local policeman would look in on him most weeks to see all was well (and doubtless glean a bit of pub gossip in return) and Sarge would regularly collect his 2 war pensions from the village post office. He never collected any State Old Age pension and on enquiry said he didn’t need it and didn’t like the Government knowing all his business.

 

Then a couple of weeks passed without Sarge being about, his pension was uncollected and it happened to coincide with the policeman’s annual leave. When eventually the constable called at Barn Farm he found Sarge was quite ill and he was taken to the hospital and eventually peacefully passed away. Ironically the doctor said the cause of his death was that the piece of shrapnel he had picked up in the 1914- 1918 war had moved and created fatal complications.

 

When his pension arrangements were being tidied up via the War Office it transpired Sarge was not John James Murphy at all – he had merely used that name knowing there would be  dozens of fellow Irishmen with those names and it would muddy the waters of his past. So it came to pass that Michael Patrick Drealing’s unusual association with the village of Denton that he loved had come to an end – who knows what other secrets of his past he took to his grave.