Harry had always been a scrapper. He couldn't help it; he had an impulsive nature and fists that moved too fast for his common sense to keep up with, tendencies which only got worse when he was drunk. And he was often drunk. Some people called it 'short man syndrome', and claimed that his temper was a means of compensating for a sense of ( Read more... )

Over the past couple of years, Harry Welsh had had quite a few bad mornings. He'd slept in bombed-out city streets, in holes in the ground, in cold bare hospital beds with morphine apparitions chasing round his head, but none of them could hold a candle to this ( Read more... )