Fabulous Freddy Whitehorn: Special Ops - Special Chops

By Frank Deville

20th Century history in the making - from the Forbidden City to the Whitehouse and a bit of everything in between.  Cometh the hour, cometh the man: Freddy Whitehorn was on the scene and did what had to be done - in war, in peace and in the bedroom. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Deville
• Release date: Sep 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393318255

Book preview

CONTENTS

Part 1. Flash Freddy  1913: Home Front

Part 2.  Fighting Freddy ` 1915: The Big One

1944: Merry Xmas, Mr. Hitler

1947: Showdown in Samarinda

1954: The Ultimate Weapon

Part 3. Footloose Freddy 1989: After Hours

Part 4. Prequel   1910: Chinese Burn

* * *

PROLOGUE

An incident from a few years ago came to mind recently after a short snort from the dusty old bottle of Martini Rosso with which I usually shared my tiny Japanese-style student flat just off Highway 1 in the burbs of Bangkok. While I paid the recollection little heed at the time, it became the key to unlocking the telling of the tales related herein.

So it was that one balmy Bangkok night many years ago, I was regaling my good friend M.L.(his royal rank) with various tales of daring-do by arguably the most illustrious of my own royal lineage aka Sir Freddy Whitehorn. I was in full flow with the juices running, when he stopped me dead with an arch look and the sharpish interjection, So who do you suppose put the 'Bang' in Bang-kok?!!? However, as the youthful royal mind tended to drift off into a world of its own fairly readily, I dismissed his impertinence with a polite chuckle and resumed telling the story. Only later, after mulling things over did I come to see the young tyro’s jibe as a calculated stab in the dark concerning the legendary exploits of my forebears in old Siam and the East – particularly the tendency to become embroiled in the shenanigans of both foreign and local elites – of which M.L. was one. Moreover, as he was then attached to Siamese Supreme Command H.Q. down on Ratchadamnoern Nok Road, his jibe seemed likely to have been part of a broader intelligence operation intended to determine the scope of my views regarding the official historical record, and perhaps also the temper of my own recent lawsuit against the Thai state (Supreme Administrative Court, Case 889/47) here in the Kingdom of Illusions.

I’m not able to say whether any of my illustrious ancestors did or didn’t actively seek foreign adventures and romantic entanglements, but such records as there are indicate they indeed proved rather adept at getting out of desperately tricky predicaments with hide intact and reputation enhanced for the most part – although sometimes not without ‘loss of face’ to certain high-placed personages at the top of the totem pole. However, as high-wire acts go, Freddy Whitehorn’s devil-may-care escapades take some beating, with each successive caper having ‘raised the bar’ in delicate and desperate affairs of both the national boudoir and the international stage. As to how many villains, tarts and other characters expired (permanently or otherwise) with the family name on their lips, it seems that shall remain a mystery forever cloaked in modesty as far as the general public be concerned, although the retelling of these tales in unabridged form does tend to make gatherings of the clan as uproariously amusing as they are necessarily secretive.  As for M.L., his last words to me were, I can’t phone you anymore, and I can’t tell you why...

PART ONE: FLASH FREDDY

1911: Home Front

The lure of the land together with a tilt at another premiership with Kapunda Cowboys F.C. ultimately swayed Freddy to let others carry on his good works in Kowloon (see Part 5: Prequel) and head home to Whitehorn Station in the rolling hill country of Adelaide, a far remove from Asia’s cities and teeming millions. Little disturbed the bucolic slumber of the Kapunda district, save for the farm boys heading into town after a Saturday night bath and shave, on the look-out for a fight, a feed and a filly (in no particular order of preference) or the occasional foreign visitor asking for directions at Whitehorn’s Meat Emporium downtown before proceeding to Whitehorn Station, where their main business lay. Evidently Freddy had his fingers in a few different pies even in those days, and his familiarity with the ‘Forbidden City’ and many of its most notable denizens mean his opinion was regularly sought by those involved in international affairs, whether commercial or of a more private nature. After all, he was the one who had been there and done that, with the Empress Dowager no less, and indeed he regularly slipped away ‘up north on business’ - although speculation as to exactly how far and what purpose kept the hills gossip mill well oiled, as well as those in the salons and saloons down in Adelaide between the hills and the sea, but as he was usually gone for a season or two, ‘Big Game Freddy’ likely had more in play than football or the family farm.

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In Freddy’s absence, the diminutive Rita-May Whitehorn, Freddy’s mother, ruled the roost at Whitehorn Station after retiring three husbands to an early grave (where they finally found some peace) with an iron grip on the purse strings and a severe tongue lashing for any would-be miscreants or slackers – even the farm dogs ran scared of her deadly aim with an old horse shoe or the occasional rock bun slung from the kitchen verandah. Meanwhile, Alby ‘Rooster’ Whitehorn, Freddy’s cousin, rode herd on the station hands during the day and the town girls of an evening – ‘first in, best dressed’ he liked to say, and the flashy Savile Row shirts he ‘borrowed’ from Freddy certainly helped to attract plenty of female attention, where smooth talking sealed the deal more often than not for the Heart Balm Kid - his partner in crime being Black Jack, fastest horse and best keeper of secrets in the district. Big with the ladies to be sure, but even