Uncle Paul´s Cain 02 Page

By Paul Cummings

Martial Arts Master 05/10/99

"Sensei ni rei" shouted the tall black belt at the end of the line of kneeling karate students. The whole class bent forward and gave the kneeling bow. The instructor kneeled facing the class, he wore a black belt worn nearly white where the black silk stitching had come away from the white backing. He returned the bow.

"Thank you for coming," began the instructor, "now, before you disappear into the bar, John has an announcement. John." He gestured for the tall black belt, who pulled himself forward and turned, so that he could see the class.

"Thanks Steve. I would just like to remind you about the training course we are running this weekend. We have Sensei Ben Cain coming over for it. This course is compulsory for all brown and black belts. I would highly recommend that everyone who can comes. Sensei Cain is one of the greatest living martial artists. As well as being a sixth dan at karate, he holds a sixth dan at aikido and fourth dan at jujitsu. His training sessions are always interesting, to say the least. We are really honoured that he gives up his time three times a year to visit us, unlike all other visiting sensei, he gives his time free of charge, so that we can hold these courses cheaply for students. Our part of the bargain is to make sure we turn up in numbers and give our all during his sessions. Be there." Grenville slid back into line.

"Thank you, John. The senior grades have all heard this before, but for you beginners I will repeat the story, as I will for each group of beginners we have. You will learn more in this weekend than I can teach you in a month. Sensei Cain will have something magical to teach to all grades. In fact, Sensei Cain was actually a student here eleven years ago, where he got a first in Japanese," then with a smile the instructor added, "although it was at King’s, so I’m not sure it counts." There were quite a few laughs at his joke about King’s College; even though they all knew King’s was one of the best regarded Cambridge Colleges. Probably second best after their own actually. "Anyway, it’s worth coming just to see the man who was three times KUGB Grand Champion, whilst he was still an undergraduate here. If he hadn’t retired from competition when he joined the army, he may well have threatened the legendary Frank Brennan’s run of success in the late seventies and eighties. Besides, if you don’t enjoy all of that, you can come and see me get knocked all over the dojo by Sensei Cain. It’s truly a humbling experience. Thank you. Mine’s a pint of orange juice and lemonade. See you in the bar." With that the class broke up in more laughter and went off to shower and change.

Steve Ryan stayed kneeling whilst his class left the dojo. He thought about Cain and when they had first met at Cambridge. Steve had been a young first dan in his second year as an undergraduate. He was quite the star of the club, and secretly enjoyed the attention. Then came this new young, softly spoken freshman. He wore a black belt to their first session, so they all assumed he was a first dan too, especially when he took the junior position amongst the black belts. Ryan decided to put the new boy in his place. It had been a very painful lesson. He’d not even been able to get near to Cain. Cain was so fast, so strong and just so damn good. But even then they didn’t realise just how good. On the day of the national championships, they finally saw Cain’s licence and realised he was actually a fourth dan.

At the time, they didn’t realise how important this was. Cain had taken all of this gradings in Japan with the Japan Karate Association. When he came to England, the Karate Union of Great Britain had to recognise his grade immediately, even down to accepting that he was an approved grading examiner up to first dan at that time. Given that senior fifth dan KUGB examiners like Terry O’Neill, Bob Poynton and Billy Higgins were not allowed to issue dan grades lead to some immediate problems. Technically, Cain couldn’t issue KUGB grades, but he could issue JKA grades, which were automatically recognised by the KUGB. In fact it was on this point that an uneasy truce was agreed in the early days. When it became obvious that Cain did not want to become a professional karate-ka, and as the KUGB seniors came to know him better, the truce became a permanent peace agreement with Cain being able to issue KUGB grades right up to his current JKA limit of third dan.

Then of course, Cain stormed through the kumite and kata to become grand champion at the first attempt at the age of eighteen. The national team for the match with Italy had been hastily rejigged to accommodate Cain. A legend was born. Ryan should have resented Cain, and in truth he had from that first training session up until Cain stormed through the nationals. Then Ryan had realised that Cain was something very special and perhaps his own karate could benefit from Cain’s skill. After that, he re-dedicated himself to his training, struggling for three years to overcome Cain. It had been in vain, of course, but it had been the making of Ryan, getting him through his second dan and well on the way to his third. By the end of his third year, Ryan had actually become good friends with Cain. A friendship that had lasted from their undergraduate days to now where Ryan ran four karate clubs around the Cambridge area and Cain was just a soldier in the army, although Ryan knew he lived just outside Hereford and so what that meant, even if Cain never spoke of it. Cain would always be his sensei, as he had been since that day he had first taught Ryan defeat and humility, even if Ryan hadn’t realised it at the time. Besides, the bruises had all eventually healed, even those to his ego.

Mike Simpson was a second year engineering student. He had not studied karate before university, but had worked hard three or four evenings a week. He had made it through to green belt, when most of his peers were still red or perhaps yellow. Sitting next to him in the bar after training was Robert Delgardo a first year mathematics student, who was hoping to take his first grading under Sensei Cain.

"Mike, what’s he like then, this Cain chap?" asked Delgardo before taking a sip of his beer.

"Oh, you’ll find out Rob, you’ll find out! Seriously, he’s great. His lessons can be kind of hard to understand, but he always has something unusual to teach. The grading will be short as the main grading work is done during the weekend’s training, but Ben Cain doesn’t fail many people and does hand out a few double grades. I’ll tell you something; it’s worth it coming for the weekend just to see how good someone can be, although it’s a bit depressing when you realise you’ll never move even a tenth as good as him." Simpson paused to drink his orange juice and lemonade, pretty much a standard drink amongst the higher grades after training.

Simpson did not normally talk as much, but he had got the karate bug and had adopted Ben Cain as his hero. Well, why not? After all, Cain was only thirty-two and already a sixth dan. Where as the more senior grades like Grenville and especially Ryan knew of the tension Cain’s grades caused within the Karate Union of Great Britain, as he received his grades from the Japan Karate Association direct in Tokyo, not locally from Enoeda Sensei. Most of the senior instructors within the KUGB did not like this due to Cain’s young age, but they conveniently forget that he’d been training practically since he could walk. Then, of course, there was the really big problem: Cain gave his instruction time free of charge. All he ever charged was for his expenses. He did however, insist that this saving was passed on to the students, so that his courses tended to be very cheap and very well attended.

In Hereford, Cain’s mind was not yet on his weekend away. He still had to get through the week, and it was not looking to be a pleasant time. Sweat was running down his face, stinging his eyes, but still he carried on. Only a couple more miles and he’d be back to the RV. He adjusted the bergen again and increased his pace. The others responded, although their exhausted bodies would rather not have. Cain knew they’d slipped some extra weight in his bergen, it was fairly standard practice against an officer who thought he could keep up with the soldiers on a forced march over the Black Mountains or Brecon Beacons. However, Cain wouldn’t let the men lose face by letting them know he knew, so he had to carry the weight. If he held out and made it back reasonably close to the others then he would gain immense face without the others losing face. The soldiers called it respect, but it would always be face to Cain.

As they came up to the last rise Corporal Brian Sharpe and his shadow, Bernie Hogg, fitness fanatics to the last, upped the pace again and started to move away. Locked in a void, Cain hardly felt the pain, but he knew his body was getting close to the limit. Deeper again he dug and went with them. This broke the group into two, with more than half of the original eighteen of them now dropped away. Just five people were in the leading group. Cain just got his head down and concentrated on the back of Hogg’s bergen five yards in front of him.

Hogg stumbled and stopped. Got him thought Cain and prepared to push on even harder. Something clawed at his arm, causing him to stumble. Cain looked at what is was and saw the face of Arnie Lewis. Lewis was beaming.

"Well done sir, you made it." It took Cain a few seconds to look around and register. The truck. They’d made it to the RV. Fumbling with his straps, Cain dropped the bergen. He staggered at the sudden loss of weight. He felt he could fly for a few seconds before his body reminded him what a state it was in. He sat down hurriedly, before he fell down. After a couple of minutes Cain looked around and was pleased that the guys around him looked in no better shape than he felt. Fifteen minutes later, they were up to fifteen people and the last three could be seen a quarter of a mile away coming in. At that point, Lewis pulled out a set of large scales, the sort used to weigh bergens during Selection. He looked Joker Harris in the face and smiled, passing the scales to Sergeant Johnson. Joker Harris was famous for pulling switches and any other trick that would lighten his load and increase another’s. Nobody really minded as it often lightened the mood and when it came to business, Harris was totally serious.

"Right gentlemen, let’s see who’s who," began Johnson. Harris started to get up. "That’s all right Johnny boy, you rest there. Help him rest lads." Two of the transport crew went and stood beside Harris, who meekly sat down again. "Corporal Sharpe, forty ks." He measured the second bergen. "Trooper Hogg, forty. Major Cain, oh deary me, what’s this? Major Cain, fifty five kilograms." Johnson made a show of selecting Harris’s bergen next. He was enjoying this, a chance for Mobility Troop to show up the so-called Sunshine Boys of Air Troop. "Mister Harris, what’s this? There seems to be some mistake; twenty five kilos?" Everyone knew the score. Harris had been caught and would have to be dealt with. "Right Trooper Harris, about six miles in that direction is a village called Pontrilas. Be at the entrance to the village on the A465 in an hour, or it’s a bloody long walk home for you." Harris got up and went to start on his way. "A minute there Harris. I think you can carry this for the major, seeing as he’s been carrying some of your kit all day." Harris wearily picked up Cain’s bergen and started down the path indicated. " In the interests of fairness, Johnson carried on and weighed all the other bergens. One man was found with only thirty-five kilos, so was sent off with it to join Harris. "Thank you gentlemen, now lets hurry onto the truck as Harris and Carter are buying in Pontrilas for the next hour."

When Cain got back to Stirling Lines, he dragged himself into the showers and allowed its intense heat and power to beat the aches from his body. Cain didn’t make too much of a habit of going out on the long training tabs, the CO certainly didn’t like him going at all. However, he kept himself very fit with his own daily exercise routine, so he liked to go along with the boys now and again to keep their respect. Eventually Cain left the shower, dried and dressed. Back in his office, he finished off some paperwork before quitting for the night.

It was already dark and the temperature had dropped sharply as Cain walked to his car. He sniffed the air and felt there would be a frost tonight. The dark green Toyota Land Cruiser Colorado beeped in recognition of Cain’s remote control as he approached. He climbed on to the dark leather seats, fired the engine and let the big V6 lazily take him home. As he drew close to the house, the motion sensors lit up the powerful lights all around the house. As usual, Cain parked behind the house. Before he went into the house, he got his Saracen hybrid cycle out of the garage. By folding the backseats forward, he was able to put the cycle inside the Land Cruiser. Anyone that had been to Cambridge knew the advantages of a bicycle over a car in the city. Besides which, Cain liked cycling. When he was cycling around Herefordshire he often used his hi-tech full suspension mountain bike, but for a more urban environment, the hybrid was better. Finally he went in though the back door.

After a light supper, Cain prepared his weekend bag ready for tomorrow evening’s trip to Cambridge. Once his bag was prepared, Cain took down one of his long katanas. In his private dojo downstairs he practised five hundred cuts. Unlike most practitioners of Japanese sword arts, Cain tended to use a live blade when practising, rather than a wooden bokken. Long before the end, the day’s exercise took its toll on Cain. His arms felt like they were dropping off and his legs felt full of lead. He finished his five hundred cuts though. Only then did he allow himself the luxury of a piping hot bath. He soaked in the bath allowing the heat to flow through his exhausted muscles. After soaking for an hour, Cain got out dried off and was asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow.

Morning came too early for Cain. He groaned and crawled out of bed, with his whole body feeling as if it had been through a losing argument with a very large car. The shower had a partially reviving effect, enabling Cain to pull on his clothes and limp to the kitchen for breakfast. Cain took a quick look out of the kitchen window, which confirmed his expectation of a heavy frost. That meant he cooked some porridge for breakfast, followed by two cups of tea. Eventually this started to get into Cain’s system and he began to feel slightly better. Finally, Cain used his skills in oriental medicine to gently release the knotted muscles.

The drive to work was uneventful, except for the three crashed cars Cain passed. Probably due to the drivers not paying attention to the road conditions, especially the BMW crashed into a ditch beside a bend in the narrow country lanes Cain traversed in the early part of his journey. After passing through the security checks, Cain parked his Land Cruiser and went to his office to change. The Regiment policy was that all members drove in and out of Lines in civvies. Cain would have looked like any fit, young man outside of the base, not like an army officer in uniform. Except for the SIG Sauer P226 automatic pistol sitting in a holster tucked into the waistband of his trousers that is.

Once he had changed, Cain went to the weapons ranges to fire off some rounds. Although not strictly necessary, Cain liked to keep in practice with the Regiment’s various weapons. Today he used the Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifle. This rifle was fast replacing the ancient Colt M16 as the weapon on choice when longs were required. It was a little heavier than the M16, but had a dustproof ejector port, meaning it was very reliable and also had a low noise signature, which was preferable for the covert nature of most SAS missions.

Cain checked in his G36 at the armoury and signed for the number if rounds he had used. Being in the Regiment, Cain was allowed certain advantages over normal army personnel. One of the best for Cain was that he could use as much ammunition as he needed. All he had to do was sign it out and again to return any not spent on the range. Cain checked his watch: 10:50. He would have to hurry.

Over at the Close Quarters Battle House, which is actually known as the Killing House inside the Regiment, some members of A Squadron’s Boat Troop were setting up for an exercise. The various terrorists were being positioned by some of the CQB team, whilst Boat Troop prepared their gear and weapons. They were going to practice a hostage rescue. They had been given the room layout to expect and an idea of where the hostages were, just as they would in reality, but after that, as in reality, they would have to be adaptable to what they found when they made their explosive entrance.

The Killing House is actually a slightly misleading name, as it is a large building with many corridors and rooms in it. It is heavily used by the SAS for hostage rescue training, so that at anytime there may be three teams, up to twenty people, on separate missions within its walls. The building’s walls are all covered with a heavy layer of rubber to reduce the risk of ricochets. This is necessary as they rescuers use live ammunition. Hostages are often played by other members of the team and on one famous occasion by the Prime Minister of the day in the fearless Margaret Thatcher. The live hostages all wear bullet-proof vests, but no helmets. There is always the risk of a serious injury, and have been fatalities, but this is the reason the SAS are the best hostage rescue unit in the world. A fully medical team must always be present when the Killing House is in use.

The scenario operators, who monitor all aspects of the rescue, including the vital signs of the hostages, electronically control the terrorists. The terrorists are actually dummies, but very sophisticated and can raise and lower their arms to show weapons of varying types. This is important, as the first principle of hostage rescue is to eliminate the immediate threat. For example, if confronted by three terrorists, one with a knife, one with a gun and one with a grenade, you shoot the man with the gun, as he is the immediate threat.

The men of Boat Troop approached the door to their room quietly. There was no talking now. This was a simple two room exercise with the rooms to be cleared as quickly as possible. They were expecting three hostages and four or five terrorists. Each man was connected to a small radio with a throat microphone. Everyone was on the same channel forming what was called a net. There would be a four man team named Tango-One under Corporal Harris in first, their job was to secure the first room whilst a second team, Tango-Two, under Sergeant Higgins would enter from a second door into the second room. When they had cleared their rooms they would not use the connecting door to enter the second room. That could lead to a blue-on-blue incident. When Tango-One had completed their clearance, Harris would call on the net that Tango-One was clear. Higgins would reply that Tango-Two was entering and then Tango-Two would enter to join Tango-One and so end the exercise.

The CQB training team checked their monitors for a final time. The medical team gave their go ahead and the CQB trainers gave the go signal to Captain Parsons, the commander of A Squadron’s Boat Troop. Captain Parsons then called over the net:

"Standby, Standby……Go! Go! Go!"

The door flew open allowing Harris and another trooper to enter behind the flash-bang. Two terrorists turned to face them and were cut down by fire from the Heckler and Koch MP5SDs. Two hostages were immediately visible. A third terrorist was behind the door and fell to the third man in the room. A third hostage was found kneeling behind the terrorist.

"Tango-One clear, Three Charlies down," called Harris on the net. Sergeant Braithwaite, who was running the CQB team, noted the time.

"Tango-Two clear, Two Charlies down. Tango-Two joining Tango-One," came the immediate reply from Harris.

In the operations room, Braithwaite looked over at the trooper monitoring the hostages.

"How are the hostages?"

"O’Brien and Williams are edgy but okay. Cain, well you’d have to kick the major to find out if he’s alive. His pulse didn’t raise, breathing, stress level, nothing. The monitors show he could be asleep in there," replied trooper Richardson.

"Nothing new there. You’ll get used to the major. You don’t have to recalibrate the machinery, just accept that he’s an exception. Right, let’s play our ace."

In the killing house a false wall dropped an another terrorist appeared holding a hand grenade. The eight members of Boat Troop turned towards the new threat. Before they could raise a single weapon, a foot crashed into the terrorist’s head, a hand grabbed the grenade and tossed it over everyone’s head and into the, now empty, second room.

"Sir, you are supposed to be a hostage," came Braithwaite’s exasperated voice over the loud speaker.

"Sorry, sergeant," Cain replied almost sheepishly.

"Exercise over. Thank you gentlemen. Please check your weapons in and meet up in debriefing room number one."

In the operations room, Richardson was replaying the end of the video again.

"He must have known it was there." Braithwaite looked over to the screen. "Just look at his reaction speed."

"That’s nothing," replied Braithwaite, "you should see what he’d have done if we’d put a real man there instead of the dummy. He wouldn’t even have looked then. He’d have attacked before the screen came down. Don’t ask me how he does it. It’s not even a reflex action either. If we’d put a hostage behind that screen, Cain wouldn’t have attacked."

The debriefing was thorough. It included replays of the videos plus analysis from all participants, including the hostages. The idea was not to criticise the rescuers, but to help them improve so that when they came to do this in a live environment, they would do it safely and professionally. There are no second chances when on a live hostage rescue. When you get it wrong, there are a lot of body bags needed. Cain took a little ribbing for his unorthodox action as a hostage, but not much as he had done it in a very professional way, without any risk to anyone present. The Regiment always appreciated that sort of action.

By the time they were finished it was after four o’clock. Cain decided to leave early to get a head start on the Friday evening rush hour. He changed out of his uniform into a pair of black leather jeans, a black Timberland roll-neck and super comfy hand-made Altberg Peacekeeper boots. On the way out, Cain grabbed his heavy, ankle-length leather coat and walked to the Land Cruiser. There was already a chill in the air, advertising the frost that would come tonight. After the final security checks, he was out onto the open road.

Cain drove up past Worcester on the M5 then slowly anti-clockwise round Birmingham on the M42. The M42 always seemed to be slow with the sheer density of traffic, especially during the rush hour, which was just starting. Eventually, Cain got to the M6 and was able to increase speed as he sped past Coventry before joining the A14. The A14 was dual carriageway all the way to Cambridge. Except for in the villages he passed through, Cain was able to keep his speed up well and got to Cambridge just after seven thirty.

The Land Cruiser pulled up outside Steve Ryan’s modern semi-detached house. Cain walked up the short drive carrying his weekend bag and the large bunch of flowers he had bought for Liz Ryan. Despite only marrying two years ago, Liz and Ryan had been together since University, where they met when Ryan was in his final year and Liz was a fresher beginning her medical studies. Since then, she had worked hard, qualified as a doctor then risen through the medical ranks at Addenbrooks Hospital, the biggest in the region. Cain was always careful around Liz Ryan. He was quite sceptical of western medicine, but he did not want to upset Liz, who he respected as a keen and dedicated doctor, not to mention the wife of one of his best friends. After all, as Cain put it, western medicine had been around for something like a hundred years, where as Chinese medicine was based on observation of the human body for more like five thousand years. The fact that Cain had studied it almost as long as he had the martial arts was probably an important factor in his views too.

Ryan opened the door with a big smile.

"Ben, come in. You made it then. Here, let me take your bag."

"Good to see you too, Steve. How’s Liz?" replied Cain as he stepped in.

"Why don’t you ask me yourself?" Liz appeared in the hall from the kitchen. Cain stepped over to her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hello Liz, How are you then?" Cain handed her the flowers. "Here, these are for you."

"Ben, you don’t need to do that," said Ryan quickly, before Liz interrupted him.

"You leave him alone. He can buy me flowers anytime he likes. Perhaps someone else could learn from a real gentleman," she replied archly. She turned around and marched back into the kitchen in search of a vase. Cain knew the Ryans very well. He knew that this was all just a show; they were still very much in love. Steve Ryan was also quite a romantic at heart too.

Next morning, everyone was up early. After a big breakfast Cain and Ryan loaded their kit onto their cycles and left for the dojo. It was only a four-mile ride, so they quickly arrived. After chaining their cycles securely, they went inside and got changed. The changing room was crowded, but Ryan had reserved them a place to change. Unlike many senior instructors, Cain preferred to change with everyone else, not off in a separate room. He was very particular about etiquette; inside the dojo, he insisted on respect from student to teacher, whether he was the teacher or student. Outside of the dojo, he also insisted that he was the same as everyone else. As he often did when visiting Cambridge, he wore one of his old gis with the JKA badge on the left breast and the Cambridge University Shotokan Karate Club badge on the upper left arm. Technically, he was supposed to wear one of his gis with the KUGB badge, but the CUSKC badge always went down well here.

By five to eight the changing rooms were empty except for Ryan and Cain. Ryan then left to oversee the preparation ready for Cain to enter dead on eight. When Cain entered, all of the students were already lined up ready for him. The turnout was very good. To Cain it looked like around a hundred students, including twenty black belts. They went through the formal start to the session. Standing in the front row at the head of the beginners Robert Delgardo was disappointed. He had heard so much about Sensei Cain that he’d expected some sort of giant, but Cain must be several inches less than his own six foot two and a couple of stone lighter. That disappointment would not last long.

"Good morning", began Cain, "thank you all for coming. I hope you will have a good time this weekend. The weekend will be divided into a number of sessions. There will be two each morning at eight and ten thirty each of two hours. We will break for lunch at twelve thirty until two. From two until four we will have the afternoon session today. Tomorrow’s afternoon session will be for kyu gradings then dan gradings. This afternoon from four thirty there will be a black belts only session. When you are not training, it is important that you keep warm, so wear something over your gi. Be in this hall five minutes before each session, lined up like this. Anyone late will not be allowed to train for that session. It is a very bad lack of respect for your fellow students and instructors to be late. I won't show you such disrespect and I don’t expect it from you. Now, before we start I would like to remind you of two things. Firstly, please ensure that you do not over-stretch yourself, which will lead to injuries. I’m quite flexible because I’ve been training since I was five years old. Only stretch as far as you can. Secondly, we’ve all got to go back to work or to college on Monday, so let’s be careful and enjoy our training. Anyone losing control at any point this weekend will be invited to leave and will not be allowed back. Thank you, now please stand and we’ll warm up quickly before we start."

Dead on ten Cain dismissed the class for half an hour. Cain pulled on his over-gi. Before he had a chance to follow the class out, two sweating young men nervously approached him. One was a green belt and the other a white. The green belt stepped towards him. When Cain looked at him the young man spoke.

"Sensei, please could you sign this for me." He had a copy of a poster advertising the weekend course. Several pictures of Cain were on it.

"What’s your name?" Cain asked, without reaching for the poster.

"Mike Simpson, Sensei," replied the green belt.

"Well Mike Simpson, you trained very hard this morning. I would be honoured to sign your poster." Cain took the poster and signed his name. He handed the poster back. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Cain was pointedly not looking at the camera the white belt was holding.

"Well, could I have my photo taken with you." Cain smiled.

"Sure." Delgardo quickly took the photo. The two students thanked Cain and started to turn to walk away. "Would you like one of me with both of you?" he offered. Delgardo and Simpson both beamed. "Steve, can you help us a minute?" Cain called over to Ryan, who was waiting to accompany Cain to get a drink.

Simpson and Delgardo walked out of the dojo while Cain and Ryan watched. They turned and bowed at the door then run out.

"Well Rob, what do you think?" asked Simpson to his friend.

"He’s unbelievable isn’t he. I was amazed when he dropped into box splits, but then to lift both legs off the floor too was too much. When I first saw him I thought he was over-hyped, but Jesus, he can certainly walk the walk. It’s almost frightening being close to him." Simpson smiled.

"That was just the basics. You wait until he does the kata and kumite sessions. Did you see that mawashi-geri he did? So sloooowww. He lifted the foot up, held it out at full extension then explained the technique."

The second session was on kata. A kata was a pre-defined sequence of moves against a series of imaginary opponents. Cain concentrated on the basic Heian katas, but even the dan grades found something of interest. There were always slight variations in the moves from one instructor to another, but Cain tended to concentrate on smaller less obvious moves of the kata. Here he explained what each could mean, but the importance of doing each of them perfectly, just as perfectly as the more obvious big kicking and punching moves. Many students really learned from this and came away inspired. A few, even amongst the senior grades, felt it was demeaning for them to practice the lowly Heian katas. They wanted something more from so senior an instructor.

After an hour, Cain picked out four of the black belts, Ryan and three of the sceptical dan grades. From the side of the dojo, Cain took five blindfolds from a bag. Five other black belts were given the task of blind folding Cain and his four assistants. The five wearing blindfolds were then walked to a space on the dojo so that they couldn’t hit each other or a wall. A small cross of black tape was put on the floor between the feet of each man. They were all faced the same direction then made to do Heian Godan kata, the fifth and last of the Heian katas blind folded. When finished, Cain had all blind folds removed whilst everyone remained in their finishing position. One of the sceptics tried to shuffle round to a better finishing position, but was stopped by a command from Cain.

As expected, Cain’s kata was faultless. His angles were perfect, even the jumping turn near the end, his moves were perfectly balanced and timed. He even finished exactly were he had started. Ryan also gave a very good performance and finished within a step of his start, even though he lost about thirty degrees on the jump. The other three were shown up. The best-finished six feet from his start, where as one of them finished facing nearly backwards from where he had started. Cain didn’t make a big speech about it; he didn’t need to. The second half of the session contained a fully dedicated body of students.

At lunch, the students split into several groups. One group were exhausted from the morning’s training and were found crashed out all over the place. Another had been ignited by the training and were feverishly discussing the details of what they had been taught, in the hope of gaining a deeper understanding of karate from it. A third group were the, relatively small, been-there, done-that, got-the-patch-on-my-other-gi types who were retelling old stories and hypothesising whether Person A could beat Person B. Where A and B were both karate-kas the names associated were often Cain and Frank Brennan, when he was at his peak. One of the students went so far as to put this question to Cain himself.

"Well, Frank is an excellent karate-ka. He is very, very strong, fast and has excellent technique. He’s earned the respect people, including me, give him. We even competed together a few times towards the end of his career." When pressed Cain added, "I seem to remember he won more than he lost against me."

The afternoon session was on kumite, sparing against an opponent. After a while Cain went to his magic bag again and came out with a large pack of plastic knives. The sort that people use for picnics. He opened the pack and held one up.

"Now these are knives." There was a muted laugh from around the dojo. "Okay, we’ll pretend they’re knives as the Cambridgeshire Constabulary would have arrested me for carrying fifty real knives around in a bag." Cain paired everyone up and passed a plastic knife out to each pair. Cain borrowed Ryan from his partner to demonstrate.

"Now, one of you will attack with a thrust of your lethal looking plastic picnic knife to the chudan area. If you are paired with a strong partner, which is most of you by the look of things, I don’t want you ramming your knife into your partner’s stomach, as it will break and I have only a limited number of spares and need to eat dinner tonight."

John Grenville watched amazed. With a couple of jokes Cain had relaxed everyone and taken the tension that had been creeping into the session completely away. Cain was literally holding a hundred students spellbound. Grenville found it hard enough when he had twenty in a class.

Cain nodded and Ryan attacked. Cain slid inside the attack, struck with a knife hand to the stabbing hand then grasped it, twisting it round and over so that he could grab Ryan’s elbow. As Ryan was forced to bend over, Cain’s leg shot out delivering what would be a devastating kick to the face.

"This is not strictly a karate technique, but is based on an aikido technique called gokkajo, but with a karate finish. It is very important to strike the attacker’s hand before you grasp it. The strike temporarily disables the hand. Otherwise, the attacker pulls back and you have a hand minus four fingers, or possibly they are still there but hanging on by the skin only."

The students enthusiastically practised the technique, so Cain added a few more hybrid techniques before he inevitably ran out of time. Cain finished by thanking the students for their efforts and asking the black belts to reconvene in half an hour.

The queue for the showers was long but quiet. Not many people had the energy for discussion. Most though, being young and relatively fit, would be full of excitement again soon, after they had showered and got to the bar.

Several of the dan grades were quietly wondering if they could skip out of the last session. They had been crammed full of information during the day and were shattered by it. Grenville got them together.

"Listen guys, we’ve got to manage it. For heaven’s sake, the white belts have managed so far today. Can you tell me that dan grades can’t manage an extra session on from them? That’s what Sensei Cain will think. Not to mention Sensei Ryan next time you’re in class. Think of all you’ve learnt already today. Now we have a session just for dan grades. How much more can you learn? And Johnners, pass me that Lucozade ‘cos I’m fucking knackered." Grenville sat down with a bump. Steve Ryan slipped away from his hiding place where he had listened to Grenville. He’d slipped over to make sure that the dan grades all turned up. He was very pleased to see Grenville on the case.

As it turned out, the black belt session was much easier that the others. At least on the body. Cain’s theme for the dan grades was to get them thinking about how to improve their karate, not just training harder, but training smarter. There were still some who were having trouble with what he was saying, but they were trying hard, which was all Cain ever asked of a student. He covered the katas Nijushiho, Sochin and Unsu in great detail, even demonstrating the full 360-degree jump in Unsu.

After the fourth and final session of the day, the remaining class took a very well deserved shower. Some of the senior students were invited to dinner with Cain. It is traditional that visiting instructors are always taken out for a good meal after any training session, and Ryan was certainly not someone who would buck tradition in matters of karate. Cain and Ryan had to cycle back to Ryan’s house before changing ready for dinner. They went out in Ryan’s old Mercedes estate

When they arrived at the Italian restaurant, the others were already present. Ryan introduced the others to Cain. Cain surprised them by remembering all of their names from previous courses, except for Donald Burns who was a mature student at Saint Andrews University and just visiting for the weekend.

At dinner, Cain found himself sitting between Burns and Grenville. Grenville turned to him.

"Sensei, would you like some wine?" asked Grenville.

"John," replied Cain with a smile, "in the dojo, my name is Sensei, outside, it’s Ben. To answer your question, no thank you, I’ll have a bottle of mineral water." Ryan banged on the table to get everyone’s attention.

"Thank you. Before we eat tonight, I would like to clear up a slur on the name of Cambridge University. It is not true that a student of Cambridge University was beaten several times in competition by a certain Frank Brennan."

"Steve, it’s not important," interrupted Cain.

"Oh yes it is. It’s the reputation of the University we’re talking about here," continued Ryan. Cain sat still and let him continue. "If you can cast your minds back to the late 1980s, Frank Brennan was coming to the end of his competition career, but was still as formidable as ever. Over a three-year period Frank met a student from the University twice in kumite and three times in kata events. On each time, the University student came out on top. Would you not agree Ben?"

"I’m sure your memory is better than mine."

"Too right it is. Only time a university undergraduate has won the nationals. Three years in a row too."

"Who was it?" asked the hairy youth next to Ryan. Several others made disparaging remarks.

"He’s sitting at this table," answered Ryan.

"You, Steve?"

"Johnners, you idiot," shouted Grenville, whilst someone else threw a bread roll at him.

"Now, now," said Ryan in mock severity. "Mister Johnson, for your benefit, it was not me but Benjamin Matthew Cain."

"Who’s …" began Johnners before sinking under a barrage of bread rolls and napkins.

The rest of the meal continued in traditional style with Cain telling amusing stories about various senior members of the KUGB and his early training in Japan. The meal ended just after ten with all of the students flagging badly due to the fatigue of the day.

The training sessions on Sunday went quickly. The emphasis was on balance and not over reaching. Cain demonstrated his point by sweeping several people over. In one case, he pulled a purple belt student over by gently pulling the student’s outstretched fist with his own thumb and forefinger. After the final pre-lunch session, Cain had a number of people ask for autographs and photos.

After lunch, they came to the gradings. First up were the kyu grades; all those below black belt. Because there were nearly eighty people wanting to grade, although most were beginners, Cain broke them up into small groups. Traditionally, examiners started with the beginners, but Cain always did the ninth kyus first. Being their second grading, the ninth kyus would be doing much the same as the beginners and have the advantage of having seen a grading before. After the ninth kyus came the thirty-three beginners in four groups. After that, Cain worked up through the grades to the second kyus, hoping for their first kyu.

Rather than make the kyu grades wait until the end of the grading, Cain stopped the grading, dismissed those seeking dan grades for half an hour and presented the kyu grade results. Ryan was delighted with the early results: All beginners had passed with Delgardo receiving a double grade straight through to eighth kyu and two others awarded temporary eighth kyus, a sort of grade and a half. The coloured belts did not fair quite so well. Most people were awarded their grade, but a brown belt and a purple belt were only awarded temporary grades at the next level, only half a grade. However, Cain singled Mike Simpson out for prise for his technique and spirit, awarding him a temporary fourth kyu from his sixth kyu. This did not surprise most of the club, as Simpson was a very talented karate-ka, who was tipped to go far. He had already won several competitions.

When it came to the dan grades, things were different. The seven first kyus were put through the Cain grinder. Just when they thought it couldn’t get any worse, Cain turned his attentions on the four first dans aiming for their second dan. At the end of their grade, none of them could stand easily. Three first dans and two seconds were issued. This was a high proportion of candidates, but reflected the quality of the instruction they received from Steve Ryan. Cain pointed this out.

After changing, Cain had a couple of drinks in the bar with the students who were celebrating then left to begin the three hour journey back to Hereford.

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