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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Amateur Army
+
+Author: Patrick MacGill
+
+Release Date: June 16, 2005 [EBook #16078]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ARMY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger,
+William Flis, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AMATEUR ARMY
+
+BY PATRICK MACGILL
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END
+
+THE RAT-PIT
+
+[Illustration: RIFLEMAN PATRICK MACGILL]
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET LONDON S.W. MCMXV
+
+
+
+
+_Wyman & Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading._
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+I am one of the million or more male residents of the United Kingdom,
+who a year ago had no special yearning towards military life, but who
+joined the army after war was declared. At Chelsea I found myself a
+unit of the 2nd London Irish Battalion, afterwards I was drilled into
+shape at the White City and training was concluded at St. Albans,
+where I was drafted into the 1st Battalion. In my spare time I wrote
+several articles dealing with the life of the soldier from the stage
+of raw "rooky" to that of finished fighter. These I now publish in
+book form, and trust that they may interest men who have joined the
+colours or who intend to take up the profession of arms and become
+members of the great brotherhood of fighters.
+
+                                                     PATRICK MACGILL.
+
+  "The London Irish,"
+  British Expeditionary Force,
+  _March 25th_, 1915.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                         PAGE
+  CHAPTER I
+
+  I ENLIST AND AM BILLETED                                13
+
+  CHAPTER II
+
+  RATIONS AND SICK PARADE                                 23
+
+  CHAPTER III
+
+  PICKETS AND SPECIAL LEAVE                               36
+
+  CHAPTER IV
+
+  OFFICERS AND RIFLES                                     48
+
+  CHAPTER V
+
+  THE COFFEE-SHOP AND WANKIN                              60
+
+  CHAPTER VI
+
+  THE NIGHT SIDE OF SOLDIERING                            71
+
+  CHAPTER VII
+
+  DIVISIONAL EXERCISE AND MIMIC WARFARE                   85
+
+  CHAPTER VIII
+
+  THE GENERAL INSPECTION AND THE EVERLASTING WAITING      99
+
+  CHAPTER IX
+
+  READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES                       111
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+I ENLIST AND AM BILLETED
+
+
+What the psychological processes were that led to my enlisting in
+"Kitchener's Army" need not be inquired into. Few men could explain
+why they enlisted, and if they attempted they might only prove that
+they had done as a politician said the electorate does, the right
+thing from the wrong motive. There is a story told of an incident that
+occurred in Flanders, which shows clearly the view held in certain
+quarters. The Honourable Artillery Company were relieving some
+regulars in the trenches when the following dialogue ensued between a
+typical Tommy Atkins and an H.A.C. private:
+
+T.A.: "Oo are you?"
+
+H.A.C.: "We're the H.A.C."
+
+T.A.: "Gentlemen, ain't yer?"
+
+H.A.C.: "Oh well, in a way I suppose--"
+
+T.A.: "'Ow many are there of yer?"
+
+H.A.C.: "About eight hundred."
+
+T.A.: "An' they say yer volunteered!"
+
+H.A.C.: "Yes, we did."
+
+T.A.: (With conviction as he gathers together his kit). "Blimey, yer
+must be mad!"
+
+For curiosity's sake I asked some of my mates to give me their reasons
+for enlisting. One particular friend of mine, a good-humoured Cockney,
+grinned sheepishly as he replied confidentially, "Well, matey, I done
+it to get away from my old gal's jore--now you've got it!" Another
+recruit, a pale, intelligent youth, who knew Nietzsche by heart,
+glanced at me coldly as he answered, "I enlisted because I am an
+Englishman." Other replies were equally unilluminating and I desisted,
+remembering that the Germans despise us because we are devoid of
+military enthusiasm.
+
+The step once taken, however, we all set to work to discover how we
+might become soldiers with a minimum of exertion and inconvenience to
+ourselves. During the process I learned many things, among others
+that I was a unit in the most democratic army in history; where Oxford
+undergraduate and farm labourer, Cockney and peer's son lost their
+identity and their caste in a vast war machine. I learned that Tommy
+Atkins, no matter from what class he is recruited, is immortal, and
+that we British are one of the most military nations in the world. I
+have learned to love my new life, obey my officers, and depend upon
+my rifle; for I am Rifleman Patrick MacGill of the Irish Rifles, where
+rumour has it that the Colonel and I are the only two _real_ Irishmen
+in the battalion. It should be remembered that a unit of a rifle
+regiment is known as rifleman, not private; we like the term rifleman,
+and feel justly indignant when a wrong appellation plays skittles with
+our rank.
+
+The earlier stages of our training took place at Chelsea and the White
+City, where untiring instructors strove to convince us that we were
+about the most futile lot of "rookies" that it had ever been their
+misfortune to encounter. It was not until we were unceremoniously
+dumped amidst the peaceful inhabitants of a city that slumbers in the
+shadow of an ancient cathedral that I felt I was in reality a soldier.
+
+Here we were to learn that there is no novelty so great for the newly
+enlisted soldier as that of being billeted, in the process of which he
+finds himself left upon an unfamiliar door-step like somebody else's
+washing. He is the instrument by which the War Office disproves that
+"an Englishman's home is his castle." He has the law behind him;
+but nothing else--save his own capacity for making friends with his
+victims.
+
+If the equanimity of English householders who are about to have
+soldiers billeted upon them is a test of patriotism, there may well be
+some doubts about the patriotic spirit of the English middle class in
+the present crisis. The poor people welcome to their homes soldiers
+who in most cases belong to the same strata of society as themselves;
+and, besides, ninepence a night as billet-fee is not to be laughed
+at. The upper class can easily bear the momentary inconvenience of
+Tommy's company; the method of procedure of the very rich in regard to
+billeting seldom varies--a room, stripped of all its furniture, fitted
+with beds and pictures, usually of a religious nature, is given up
+for the soldiers' benefit. The lady of the house, gifted with that
+familiar ease which the very rich can assume towards the poor at a
+pinch--especially a pinch like the present, when "all petty class
+differences are forgotten in the midst of the national crisis"--may
+come and talk to her guests now and again, tell them that they are
+fine fellows, and give them a treat to light up the heavy hours that
+follow a long day's drill in full marching order. But the middle
+class, aloof and austere in its own seclusion, limited in means and
+apartment space, cannot easily afford the time and care needed for the
+housing of soldiers. State commands cannot be gainsaid, however, and
+Tommy must be housed and fed in the country which he will shortly go
+out and defend in the trenches of France or Flanders.
+
+The number of men assigned to a house depends in a great measure on
+the discretion of the householder and the temper of the billeting
+officer. A gruff reply or a caustic remark from the former sometimes
+offends; often the officer is in a hurry, and at such a time
+disproportionate assortment is generally the result. A billeting
+officer has told me that fifty per cent. of the householders whom he
+has approached show manifest hostility to the housing of soldiers. But
+the military authorities have a way of dealing with these people. On
+one occasion an officer asked a citizen, an elderly man full of paunch
+and English dignity, how many soldiers could he keep in his house.
+"Well, it's like this--," the man began.
+
+"Have you any room to spare here?" demanded the officer.
+
+"None, except on the mat," was the caustic answer.
+
+"Two on the mat, then," snapped the officer, and a pair of tittering
+Tommies were left at the door.
+
+Matronly English dignity suffered on another occasion when a sergeant
+inquired of a middle-aged woman as to the number of men she could
+billet in her house.
+
+"None," she replied. "I have no way of keeping soldiers."
+
+"What about that apartment there?" asked the N.C.O. pointing to the
+drawing-room.
+
+"But they'll destroy everything in the room," stammered the woman.
+
+"Clear the room then."
+
+"But they'll have to pass through the hall to get in, and there are so
+many valuable things on the walls--"
+
+"You've got a large window in the drawing-room," said the officer;
+"remove that, and the men will not have to pass through the hall. I'll
+let you off lightly, and leave only two."
+
+"But I cannot keep two."
+
+"Then I'll leave four," was the reply, and four were left.
+
+Sadder than this, even, was the plight of the lady and gentleman at
+St. Albans who told the officer that their four children were just
+recovering from an attack of whooping cough. The officer, being a
+wise man and anxious about the welfare of those under his care, fled
+precipitately. Later he learned that there had been no whooping cough
+in the house; in fact, the people who caused him to beat such a hasty
+retreat were childless. He felt annoyed and discomfited; but about a
+week following his first visit he called again at the house, this time
+followed by six men.
+
+"These fellows are just recovering from whooping cough," he told the
+householder; "they had it bad. We didn't know what to do with them,
+but, seeing that you've had whooping cough here, I feel it's the only
+place where it will be safe to billet them." And he left them there.
+
+But happenings like these were more frequent at the commencement of
+the war than now. Civilians, even those of the conventional middle
+class, are beginning to understand that single men in billets, to
+paraphrase Kipling slightly, are remarkably like themselves.
+
+With us, rations are served out daily at our billets; our landladies
+do the cooking, and mine, an adept at the culinary art, can transform
+a basin of flour and a lump of raw beef into a dish that would make an
+epicurean mouth water. Even though food is badly cooked in the billet,
+it has a superior flavour, which is never given it in the boilers
+controlled by the company cook. Army stew has rather a notorious
+reputation, as witness the inspired words of a regimental poet--one of
+the 1st Surrey Rifles--in a pćan of praise to his colonel:
+
+  "Long may the colonel with us bide,
+    His shadow ne'er grow thinner.
+  (It would, though, if he ever tried
+    Some Army stew for dinner.)"
+
+Billeting has gained for the soldier many friends, and towns that have
+become accustomed to his presence look sadly forward to the day when
+he will leave them for the front, where no kind landlady will be at
+hand to transform raw beef and potatoes into beef pudding or potato
+pie. The working classes in particular view the future with misgiving.
+The bond of sympathy between soldier and workers is stronger than that
+between soldier and any other class of citizen. The houses and manners
+of the well-to-do daunt most Tommies. "In their houses we feel out
+of it somehow," they say. "There's nothin' we can talk about with the
+swells, and 'arf the time they be askin' us about things that's no
+concern of theirs at all."
+
+Most toilers who have no friends or relations preparing for war
+have kinsmen already in the trenches--or on the roll of honour. And
+feelings stronger than those of friendship now unite thousands of
+soldiers to the young girls of the houses in which they are billeted.
+For even in the modern age, that now seems to voice the ultimate
+expression of man's culture and advance in terrorism and destruction,
+love and war, vital as the passion of ancient story, go hand in hand
+up to the trenches and the threat of death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+RATIONS AND SICK PARADE
+
+
+It has been said that an army moves upon its stomach, and, as if in
+confirmation of this, the soldier is exhorted in an official pamphlet
+"Never to start on a march with an empty stomach." To a hungry
+rifleman the question of his rations is a matter of vital importance.
+For the first few weeks our food was cooked up and served out on the
+parade ground, or in the various gutter-fringed sheds standing in
+the vicinity of our headquarters. The men were discontented with the
+rations, and rumour had it that the troops stationed in a neighbouring
+village rioted and hundreds had been placed under arrest.
+
+Sometimes a haunch of roast beef was doled out almost raw, and
+potatoes were generally boiled into pulp; these when served up looked
+like lumps of wet putty. Two potatoes, unwashed and embossed with
+particles of gravel, were allowed to each man; all could help
+themselves by sticking their fingers into the doughy substance and
+lifting out a handful, which they placed along with the raw "roast" on
+the lid of their mess-tin. This constituted dinner, but often rations
+were doled out so badly that several men only got half the necessary
+allowance for their meals.
+
+Tea was seldom sufficiently sweetened, and the men had to pay for
+milk. After a time we became accustomed to the Epsom Salts that a
+kindly War Office, solicitous for our well-being, caused to be added,
+and some of us may go to our graves insisting on Epsom Salts with tea.
+The feeding ground being in many cases a great distance from the fire,
+the tea was cold by the time it arrived at the men's quarters. Those
+who could afford it, took their food elsewhere: the restaurants in
+the vicinity did a roaring trade, and several new ones were opened. A
+petition was written; the men signed it, and decided to send it to
+the colonel; but the N.C.O.'s stepped in and destroyed the document.
+"You'll not do much good at the front," they told us, "if you are
+grumbling already."
+
+A week followed the destruction of the petition, and then appeared the
+following in Battalion Orders: "From to-morrow until further orders,
+rations will be issued at the men's billets." This announcement caused
+no little sensation, aroused a great deal of comment, and created a
+profound feeling of satisfaction in the battalion. Thenceforth rations
+were served out at the billets, and the householders were ordered
+to do the cooking. My landlady was delighted. "Not half feeding you;
+that's a game," she said. "And you going to fight for your country!
+But wait till you see the dishes I'll make out of the rations when
+they come."
+
+The rations came. In the early morning a barrow piled with eatables
+was dragged through our street, and the "ration fatigue" party, full
+of the novelty of a new job, yelled in chorus, "Bring out your dead,
+ladies; rations are 'ere!"
+
+"What have you got?" asked my landlady, going to the door. "What are
+you supposed to leave for the men? Nothing's too good for them that's
+going to fight for their country."
+
+"Dead rats," said the ration-corporal with a grin.
+
+"Don't be funny. What are my men to get?"
+
+"Each man a pound of fresh meat, one and a half pounds of bread, two
+taters, two ounces of sugar, and an ounce of tea and three ounces of
+cheese. And, besides this, every feller gets a tin of jam once in four
+days."
+
+This looks well on paper, but pot and plate make a difference in the
+proposition. Army cheese runs to rind rapidly, and a pound of beef is
+often easily bitten to the bone: sometimes, in fact, it is all
+bone and gristle, and the ravages of cooking minimise its bulk in
+a disheartening way. One and a half pound of bread is more than the
+third of a big loaf, but minus butter it makes a featureless repast.
+Breakfast and tea without butter and milk does not always make a
+dainty meal.
+
+Even the distribution of rations leaves much to be desired; the
+fatigue party, well-intentioned and sympathetic though it be, often
+finds itself short of provisions. This may in many cases be due to
+unequal distribution; an ounce of beef too much to each of sixteen men
+leaves the seventeenth short of meat. This may easily happen, as the
+ration party has never any means of weighing the food: it is nearly
+always served out by guesswork. But sometimes the landladies help in
+the distribution by bringing out scales and weighing the provisions.
+One lady in our street always weighed the men's rations, and saw that
+those under her care got the exact allowance. Never would she take any
+more than her due, and never less. But a few days ago, when weighing
+sugar and tea, a blast of wind upset the scales, and a second
+allowance met with a similar fate. Sugar and tea littered the
+pavement, and finally the woman supplied her soldiers from the
+household stores. She now leaves the work of distribution in the hands
+of the ration party, and takes what is given to her without grumbling.
+
+The soldiers' last meal is generally served out about five o'clock
+in the afternoon, sometimes earlier; and a stretch of fourteen hours
+intervenes between then and breakfast. About nine o'clock in
+the evening those who cannot afford to pay for extras feel their
+waist-belts slacken, and go supperless to bed. And tea is not a very
+substantial meal; the rations served out for the day have decreased in
+bulk, bread has wasted to microscopic proportions, and the cheese has
+diminished sadly in size. A regimental song, pent with soldierly woes,
+bitterly bemoans the drawbacks of Tommy's tea:
+
+  "Bread and cheese for breakfast,
+    For dinner Army stew,
+  But when it comes to tea-time
+    There's dough and rind for you,
+        So you and me
+        Won't wait for tea--
+    We're jolly big fools if we do."
+
+But those who do not live in billets, and whose worldly wealth fails
+to exceed a shilling a day, must be content with Army rations, with
+the tea tasting of coom, and seldom sweetened, with the pebble-studded
+putty potato coated in clay, with the cheese that runs to rind at
+last parade, and, above all, with the knowledge that they are merely
+inconvenienced at home so that they may endure the better abroad.
+
+There is another school of theorists that states that an army moves,
+not upon its stomach, but upon its feet, the care of which is of vital
+importance. This, too, finds confirmation in the official pamphlet,
+which tells the soldier to "Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound
+foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is," etc.
+
+My right foot had troubled me for days; a pain settled in the arch of
+the instep, and caused me intense agony when resuming the march after
+a short halt; at night I would suddenly awake from sleep to experience
+the sensation of being stabbed by innumerable pins in ankle and toes.
+Marching in future, I felt, would be a monstrous futility, and I
+decided that my case was one for the medical officer.
+
+Sick parade is not restricted by any dress order; the sore-footed
+may wear slippers; the sore-headed, Balaclava helmets; puttees can be
+discarded; mufflers and comforters may be used. "The sick rabble" is
+the name given by the men to the crowd that waits outside the door of
+the M.O.'s room at eight in the morning. And every morning brings its
+quota of ailing soldiers; some seriously ill, some slightly, and a few
+(as may be expected out of a thousand men of all sorts and conditions)
+who have imaginary or feigned diseases that will so often save
+"slackers" from a hard day's marching. The aim and ambition of these
+latter seem to be to do as little hard work as possible; some of them
+attend sick parade on an average once a week, and generally obtain
+exemption from a day's work. To obtain this they resort to several
+ruses; headaches and rheumatic pains are difficult to detect, and the
+doctor must depend on the private's word; a quick pulse and heightened
+temperature is engendered by a brisk run, and this is often a means
+towards a favourable medical verdict--that is, when "favourable" means
+a suspension of duties.
+
+At a quarter to eight I stood with ten others in front of the M.O.'s
+door, on which a white card with the blue-lettered "No Smoking"
+stood out in bold relief. The morning was bitterly cold, and a sharp,
+penetrating wind splashed with rain swept round our ears, and chilled
+our hands and faces. One of the waiting queue had a sharp cough and
+spat blood; all this was due, he told us, to a day's divisional
+field exercise, when he had to lie for hours on the wet ground
+firing "blanks" at a "dummy" enemy. Another sick soldier, a youth of
+nineteen, straight as a lance and lithe as a poplar, suffered from
+ulcer in the throat. "I had the same thing before," he remarked in a
+thin, hoarse voice, "but I got over it somehow. This time it'll maybe
+the hospital. I don't know."
+
+An orderly corporal filled in admission forms and handed them to us;
+each form containing the sick man's regimental number, name, religion,
+age, and length of military service, in addition to several other
+minor details having no reference at all to the matter in hand. These
+forms were again handed over to another orderly corporal, who stood
+smoking a cigarette under the blue-lettered notice pinned to the door.
+
+The boy with the sore throat was sitting in a chair in the room when I
+entered, the doctor bending over him. "Would you like a holiday?" the
+M.O. asked in a kindly voice.
+
+"Where to, sir?"
+
+"A couple of days in hospital would leave you all right, my man," the
+M.O. continued, "and it would be a splendid rest."
+
+"I don't want a rest," answered the youth. "Maybe I'll be better in
+the morning, sir."
+
+The doctor thought for a moment, then:
+
+"All right, report to-morrow again," he said. "You're a brave boy.
+Some, who are not the least ill, whine till one is sick--what's the
+matter with you?"
+
+"Sore foot, sir," I said, seeing the M.O.'s eyes fixed on me.
+
+"Off with your boot, then."
+
+I took off my boot, placed my foot on a chair, and had it inspected.
+
+"What's wrong with it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. It pains me when marching, and sometimes--"
+
+"Have you ever heard that Napoleon said an army marches on its
+stomach?"
+
+"Yes, sir, when the feet of the army is all right," I answered.
+
+"Quite true," he replied. "No doubt you've sprained one of yours;
+just wash it well in warm water, rub it well, and have a day or two
+resting. That will leave you all right. Your boots are good?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"They don't pinch or--what's wrong with you?" He was speaking to the
+next man.
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+"Don't know? You don't know why you're here. What brought you here?"
+
+"Rheumatic pains, I think, sir," was the answer. "Last night I 'ad an
+orful night. Couldn't sleep. I think it was the wet as done it. Lyin'
+out on the grass last field day--"
+
+"How many times have you been here before?"
+
+"Well, sir, the last time was when--"
+
+"How many times?"
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+"Was it rheumatic pains last time?"
+
+"No sir, it was jaw-ache--toothache, I mean."
+
+"I'll put you on light duties for the day," said the M.O. And the
+rheumatic one and I went out together.
+
+"That's wot they do to a man that's sick," said the rheumatic one when
+we got outside. "Me that couldn't sleep last night, and now it's light
+duties. I know what light duties are. You are to go into the orderly
+room and wash all the dishes: then you go and run messages, then you
+'old the orficer's horse and then maybe when you're worryin' your own
+bit of grub they come and bundle you out to sweep up the orficers'
+mess, or run an errand for the 'ead cook and bottle-washer. Light
+duties ain't arf a job. I'm blowed if marchin' in full kit ain't ten
+times better, and I'm going to grease to the battalion parade."
+
+Fifteen minutes later I met him leaving his billet, his haversack
+on the wrong side, his cartridge pouches open, the bolt of his gun
+unfastened; his whole general appearance was a discredit to his
+battalion and a disgrace to the Army. I helped to make him presentable
+as he bellowed his woes into my ear. "No bloomin' grub this mornin',"
+he said. "Left my breakfast till I'd come back, and 'aven't no time
+for it now. Anyway I'm going out on the march; no light duties for me.
+I know what they are." He was still protesting against the hardships
+of things as he swung out of sight round the corner of the street.
+Afterwards I heard that he got three days C.B. for disobeying the
+orders of the M.O.
+
+Save for minor ailments and accident, my battalion is practically
+immune from sickness; colds come and go as a matter of course, sprains
+and cuts claim momentary attention, but otherwise the health of the
+battalion is perfect. "We're too healthy to be out of the trenches,"
+a company humorist has remarked, and the company and battalion agrees
+with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PICKETS AND SPECIAL LEAVE
+
+
+One of the first things we had to learn was that our ancient cathedral
+town has its bounds and limits for the legions of the lads in khaki.
+Beyond a certain line, the two-mile boundary, we dare not venture
+alone without written permission, and we can only pass the limit in a
+body when led by a commissioned officer.
+
+The whole world, with the exception of the space enclosed by this
+narrow circle, is closed to the footsteps of Tommy; he cannot now
+visit his sweetheart, his sweetheart must come and visit him. The
+housemaid from Hammersmith and the typist from Tottenham have to come
+to their beaux in billets, and as most of the men in our town are
+single, and nearly all have sweethearts, it is estimated that five
+or six thousand maidens blush to hear the old, old story within the
+two-mile limit every week-end.
+
+Once only every month is a soldier allowed week-end leave, and then
+he has permission to be absent from his billet between the hours of
+3 p.m. on Saturday and 10 p.m. on Sunday. His pass states that during
+this time he is not liable to be arrested for desertion. Some men use
+one pass for quite a long period, and alter the dates to suit every
+occasion.
+
+One Sunday, when returning from week-end leave, I travelled from
+London by train. My compartment was crowded with men of my division,
+and only one-half of these had true passes; one, who was an adept
+calligraphist, wrote his own pass, and made a counterfeit signature
+of the superior who should have signed the form of leave. Another had
+altered the dates of an early pass so cleverly that it was difficult
+to detect the erasure, and a number of men had no passes whatsoever.
+These boasted of having travelled to London every week-end, and they
+had never been caught napping.
+
+Passes were generally inspected at the station preceding the one to
+which we were bound. My travelling companions were well aware of this,
+and made preparations to combat the difficulty in front; two crawled
+under the seats, and two more went up on the racks, where they lay
+quiet as mice, stretched out at full length and covered over with
+several khaki overcoats. One man, a brisk Cockney, who would not deign
+to roost or crawl, took up his position as far away as possible from
+the platform window.
+
+"Grease the paper along as quick as you know 'ow and keep the picket
+jorin' till I'm safe," he remarked as the train stopped and a figure
+in khaki fumbled with the door handle.
+
+"Would you mind me lookin' at passes, mateys?" demanded the picket,
+entering the compartment. The man by the door produced his pass, the
+one he had written and signed himself; and when it passed inspection
+he slyly slipped it behind the back of the man next him, and in the
+space of three seconds the brisk Cockney had the forged permit of
+leave to show to the inspector. The men under the seat and on the
+racks were not detected.
+
+Every station in our town and its vicinity has a cordon of pickets,
+the Sunday farewell kisses of sweethearts are never witnessed by the
+platform porter, as the lovers in khaki are never allowed to see
+their loves off by train, and week-end adieux always take place at
+the station entrance. Some time ago the pickets allowed the men to
+see their sweethearts off, but as many youths abused the privilege and
+took train to London when they got on the platform, these kind actions
+have now become merely a pleasing memory.
+
+Pickets seem to crop up everywhere; on one bus ride to London, a
+journey of twenty miles, I have been asked to show my pass three
+times, and on a return journey by train I have had to produce the
+written permit on five occasions. But some units of our divisions soar
+above these petty inconveniences, as do two brothers who motor home
+every Sunday when church parade comes to an end.
+
+When these two leave church after divine service, a car waits them at
+the nearest street corner, and they slip into it, don trilby hats and
+civilian overcoats, and sweep outside the restricted area at a haste
+that causes the slow-witted country policeman to puzzle over the speed
+of the car and forget its number while groping for his pocket-book.
+
+It has always been a pleasure to me to follow for hours the winding
+country roads looking out for fresh scenes and new adventures. The
+life of the roadside dwellers, the folk who live in little stone
+houses and show two flower-pots and a birdcage in their windows, has
+a strange fascination for me. When I took up my abode here and got my
+first free Sunday afternoon, I shook military discipline aside for a
+moment and set out on one of my rambles.
+
+There comes a moment on a journey when something sweet, something
+irresistible and charming as wine raised to thirsty lips, wells up in
+the traveller's being. I have never striven to analyse this feeling or
+study the moment when it comes, and that feeling has been often mine.
+Now I know the moment it floods the soul of the traveller. It is at
+the end of the second mile, when the limbs warm to their work and the
+lungs fill with the fresh country air. At such a moment, when a man
+naturally forgets restraint to which he has only been accustomed for
+a short while, I met the picket for the first time. He told me to
+turn--and I went back. But it was not in my heart to like that picket,
+and I shall never like him while he stands there, sentry of the
+two-mile limit; an ogre denying me entrance into the wide world that
+lies beyond.
+
+There is one thing, however, before which the picket is impotent--a
+pass. It is like a free pardon to a convict; it opens to him the whole
+world--that is for the period it covers. The two most difficult things
+in military life are to obtain permit of absence from billets, and the
+struggle against the natural impulse to overstay the limit of leave.
+There are times when soldiers experience an intense longing to see
+their own homes, firesides, and friends, and in moments like these it
+takes a stiff fight to overcome the desire to go away, if only for a
+little while, to their native haunts. Only once in five weeks may a
+man obtain a week-end pass--if he is lucky. To the soldier, luck is
+merely another word for skill.
+
+With us, the rifleman who scores six successive "bulls" at six hundred
+yards on the open range has been lucky; if he speaks nicely to the
+quartermaster and obtains the best pair of boots in the stores, he has
+been lucky; if by mistake he is given double rations by the fatigue
+party he is lucky; but if the same man, sweating over his rifle in
+a carnival of "wash-outs," or, weary of blistered feet and empty
+stomach, asks for sympathy because his rifle was sighted too low or
+because he lost his dinner while waiting on boot-parade, we explain
+that his woes are due to a caper of chance--that he has been unlucky.
+To obtain a pass at any time a man must be lucky; obtaining one when
+he desires it most is a thing heard of now and again, and getting a
+pass and not being able to use it is of common occurrence. Now, when I
+applied for special leave I was more than a little lucky.
+
+It was necessary that I should attend to business in London, and I set
+about making application for a permit of leave. I intended to apply
+for a pass dating from 6 p.m. of a Friday evening to 10 p.m. of the
+following Sunday. On Wednesday morning I spoke to a corporal of my
+company.
+
+"If you want leave, see the platoon sergeant," he told me. The platoon
+sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke harshly when I approached
+him. "No business of mine!" he said; "the company clerk will look into
+the matter."
+
+But I had no success with the company clerk; the leave which I desired
+was a special one, and that did not come under his jurisdiction. "The
+orderly sergeant knows more about this business than I do. Go to him
+about it," he said.
+
+By Wednesday evening I spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked
+puzzled for a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said.
+"He'll know more about this matter than I do, and he'll see into it.
+But it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't
+like to give it."
+
+"Why?" I asked.
+
+"Why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? You're paid
+here to do what you're told, not to ask questions."
+
+The lieutenant was courteous and civil. "I can't do anything in the
+matter," he said. "The orderly sergeant will take you to the company
+officer, Captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you."
+
+"If you're lucky," said the sergeant in a low whisper. About eight
+o'clock in the evening I paraded in the long, dimly-lighted passage
+that leads to our company orderly-room, and there I had to wait two
+hours while the captain was conducting affairs of some kind or another
+inside. When the door was opened I was ordered inside.
+
+"Quick march! Left turn! Halt!" ordered the sergeant as I crossed the
+threshold, and presently I found myself face to face with our company
+commander, who was sitting by a desk with a pile of papers before him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, fixing a pair of stern eyes on me, and I
+explained my business with all possible despatch.
+
+"Of course you understand that everything is now subservient to your
+military duties; they take premier place in your new life," said the
+officer. "But I'll see what I can do. By myself I am of little help.
+However, you can write out a pass telling the length of time you
+require off duty, and I'll lay it before the proper authorities."
+
+I wrote out the "special pass," which ran as follows:
+
+"Rifleman ---- has permission to be absent from his quarters from
+6 p.m. (date) to 10 p.m. (date), for the purpose of proceeding to
+London."
+
+I came in from a long march on Thursday evening to find the pass
+signed, stamped, and ready. On the following night I could go to
+London, and I spent the evening 'phoning, wiring, and writing to town,
+arranging matters for the day ahead. Also, I asked some friends to
+have dinner with me at seven o'clock on Friday night.
+
+Next day we had divisional exercise, which is usually a lengthy
+affair. In the morning I approached the officer and asked if I might
+be allowed off parade, seeing I had to set out for London at six
+o'clock in the evening.
+
+"Oh! we shall be back early," I was told, "back about three or
+thereabouts."
+
+The day was very interesting; the whole division, thousands of men,
+numberless horses, a regiment of artillery, and all baggage and
+munition for military use took up position in battle formation. In
+front lay an imaginary army, and we had to cross a river to come
+into contact with it. Engineers, under cover of the artillery,
+built pontoon bridges for our crossing; on the whole an intensely
+interesting and novel experience. So interesting indeed that I lost
+all count of time, and only came to consciousness of the clock and
+remembrance of friends making ready for dinner when some one remarked
+that the hour of four had passed, and that we were still five miles
+from home.
+
+I got to my billet at six; there I flung off my pack, threw down my
+rifle, and in frenzied haste consulted a railway timetable. A slow
+train was due to leave our town at five minutes to seven. I arranged
+my papers, made a brief review of matters which would come before me
+later, and with muddy boots and heavy heart I arrived at the station
+at seven minutes to seven and took the slow train for London.
+
+When I told the story of my adventures at dinner a soldier friend
+remarked: "You've been more than a little lucky in getting away at
+all. I was very unlucky when I applied--"
+
+But his story was a long one, and I have forgotten it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+OFFICERS AND RIFLES
+
+
+As I have said, I have learned among other things to obey my officers
+and depend upon my rifle. At first the junior officers appeared to me
+only as immaculate young men in tailor-made tunics and well-creased
+trousers, wearing swords and wrist-watches, and full of a healthy
+belief in their own importance. My mates are apt to consider them
+as being somewhat vain, and no Tommy dares fail to salute the young
+commissioned officers when he meets them out with their young ladies
+on the public streets. For myself, I have a great respect for them and
+their work; day and night they are at their toil; when parade comes to
+an end, and the battalion is dismissed for the day, the officers, who
+have done ten or twelve hours' of field exercise, turn to their desks
+and company accounts, and time and again the Last Post sees them busy
+over ledgers, pamphlets, and plans.
+
+Accurate and precise in every detail, they know the outs and ins of
+platoon and company drill, and can handle scores and hundreds of men
+with the ease and despatch of artists born to their work. Where
+have these officers, fresh youngsters with budding moustaches and
+white, delicate hands, learned all about frontage, file, flank,
+and formation, alignment, echelon, incline, and interval? Words of
+direction and command come so readily from their lips that I was
+almost tempted to believe that they had learned as easily as they
+taught, that their skill in giving orders could only be equalled by
+the ease with which I supposed they had mastered the details of their
+work. Later I came to know of the difficulty that confronts the young
+men, raw from the Officers' Training Corps, when they take up their
+preliminary duties as commanders of trained soldiers. No "rooky" fresh
+to the ranks is the butt of so many jokes and such biting sarcasm as
+the young officer is subjected to when he takes his place as a leader
+of men.
+
+Soon after my arrival in our town a score of young lieutenants came
+to our parade ground, accompanied by two commanders, a keen-eyed
+adjutant, brisk as a bell, and a white-haired colonel with very thin
+legs, and putties which seemed to have been glued on to his shins. The
+young gentlemen were destined for various regiments, and most of them
+were fresh and spotless in their new uniforms. Some wore Glengarry
+bonnets, kilts, and sporrans, some the black ribbons of Wales; one,
+whose hat-badge proclaimed the Dublin Fusilier, was conspicuous by the
+eyeglass he wore, and others were still arrayed in civilian garb, the
+uniform of city and office life. Several units of my battalion were
+taken off to drill in company with the strange officers. I was one of
+the chosen.
+
+The young men took us in hand, acting in turn as corporals, platoon
+sergeants, and company commanders. The gentleman with the eyeglass had
+charge of my platoon, and from the start he cast surreptitious glances
+at a little red brochure which he held in his hand, and mumbled words
+as if trying to commit something to memory.
+
+"Get to your places," the adjutant yelled to the officers. "Hurry up!
+Don't stand there gaping as if you're going to snap at flies. We've
+got to do some work. There's no hay for those who don't work. Come on,
+Weary, and drill your men; you with the eyeglass, I mean! I want you
+to put the company through some close column movements."
+
+The man with the eyeglass took up his position, and issued some order,
+but his voice was so low that the men nearest him could not hear the
+command.
+
+"Shout!" yelled the adjutant. "Don't mumble like a flapper who has
+just got her first kiss. It's not allowed on parade."
+
+The order was repeated, and the voice raised a little.
+
+"Louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant. Then with fine irony: "These
+men are very interested in what you've got to tell them.... I don't
+think."
+
+Eyeglass essayed another attempt, but stopped in the midst of his
+words, frozen into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant.
+
+"For heaven's sake, try and speak up," the adjutant said. "If you
+don't talk like a man, these fellows won't salute you when they meet
+you in the street with your young lady. On second thoughts, you had
+better go back and take up the job of platoon sergeant. Come on,
+Glengarry, and try and trumpet an order."
+
+Glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a sturdy youth with sloping
+shoulders, took up his post nervously.
+
+"A close column forming column of fours," he cried in a shrill treble,
+quoting the cautionary part of his command. "Advance in fours from the
+right; form fours--right!"
+
+"Form fours--where?" roared the adjutant.
+
+"Left," came the answer.
+
+"Left, your grandmother! You were right at first. Did you not know
+that you were right?... Where's Eyeglass, the platoon sergeant, now?
+Who's pinched him?"
+
+This unfortunate officer had dropped his eyeglass, and was now groping
+for it on the muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search.
+
+Other officers took up the job of company commander in turn, and all
+suffered. One, who was a dapper little fellow, speedily earned the
+nickname of "Tailor's Dummy;" another, when giving a platoon the
+wrong direction in dressing, was told to be careful, and not shove the
+regiment over. A third, a Welshman, with the black ribbons, got angry
+with a section for some slight mistake made by two of its number, and
+was told to be careful and not annoy the men. He had only got them on
+appro'.
+
+Spick and span in their new uniforms, they came to drill daily on our
+parade ground. Slowly the change took place. They were "rookies" no
+longer, and the adjutant's sarcasm was a thing of the past. Commands
+were pronounced distinctly and firmly; the officers were trained men,
+ready to lead a company of soldiers anywhere and to do anything.
+
+No man who has trained with the new armies can be lacking in respect
+for the indefatigable N.C.O., upon whom the brunt of the work has
+fallen. With picturesque scorn and sarcasm he has formed huge armies
+out of the rawest of raw material, and all in a space of less than
+half a year. His methods are sometimes strange and his temper short;
+yet he achieves his end in the shortest time possible. He is for ever
+correcting the same mistakes and rebuking the same stupidity, and the
+wonder is, not that he loses his temper, but that he should ever be
+able to preserve it. He understands men, and approaches them in an
+idiom that is likely to produce the best results.
+
+"Every man of you has friends of some sort," said the musketry
+instructor, as we formed up in front of him on the parade ground,
+gripping with nervous eagerness the rifles which had just been served
+out from the quartermaster's stores. We were recruits, raw "rookies,"
+green to the grind, and chafing under discipline. "And some sort of
+friends it would be as well as if you never met them," the instructor
+continued. "They'd play you false the minute they'd get your back
+turned. But you've a friend now that will always stand by you and play
+you fair. Just give him a chance, and he'll maybe see you out of many
+a tight corner. Now, who is this friend I'm talking about?" he asked,
+turning to a youth who was leaning on his rifle. "Come, Weary, and
+tell me."
+
+"The rifle," was the answer.
+
+"The crutch?"
+
+"No, the rifle."
+
+"I see that, boy, I see that! But, damn it, don't make a crutch of it.
+You're a soldier now, my man, and not a crippled one yet."
+
+Thus was the rifle introduced to us. We had long waited for its
+coming, and dreamt of cross-guns, the insignia of a crack shot's
+proficiency, while we waited. And with the rifle came romance, and the
+element of responsibility. We were henceforward fighting men,
+numbered units, it was true, with numbered weapons, but for all that,
+fighters--men trained to the trade and licensed to the profession.
+
+Our new friend was rather a troublesome individual to begin with. In
+rising to the slope he had the trick of breaking free and falling on
+the muddy barrack square. A muddy rifle gets rusty, and brings its
+owner into trouble, and a severe penalty is considered meet for the
+man who comes on parade with a rusty rifle. Bringing the friend from
+the slope to the order was a difficult process for us recruits at the
+start the back-sight tore at the fingers, and bleeding hands often
+testified to the unnatural instinct of the rebellious weapon. But the
+unkindest kick of all was given when the slack novice fired the first
+shot, and the heel of the butt slipped upwards and struck the jaw.
+Then was learnt the first real lesson. The rifle kicks with the heel
+and aims for the jaw. Control your friend, humour him; keep him well
+in hand and beware his fling.
+
+I was unlucky in my first rifle practice on the miniature range,
+and out of my first five shots I did not hit the target once. The
+instructor lay by my side on the waterproof ground-sheet (the day was
+a wet one, and the range was muddy) and lectured me between misses on
+the peculiarities of my weapon and the cultivation of a steady eye.
+
+"Keep the beggar under control," he said. "You've got to coax him, and
+not use force. Pull the trigger easily, as though you loved it, and
+hold the butt affectionate-like against the shoulder. It's an easy
+matter to shoot as you're shooting now. There's shooting and shooting,
+and you've got to shoot straight. If you don't you're no dashed good!
+Give me the rifle, you're not aiming at the bull, man, you're aiming
+at the locality where the bull is grazing."
+
+He took my rifle, slid a cartridge into the breech, and coaxed the
+trigger lovingly towards him. Three times he fired, then we went
+together to look at the target. Not a bullet fired by him had struck
+it. The instructor glared down the barrel of the gun, made some
+nasty remarks about deflection, and went back to yell at an orderly
+corporal.
+
+"What the dickens did you take this here for?" he cried. "It's a
+blooming wash-out,[1] and was never any good. Old as an unpaid bill
+and worn bell-mouth it is, and nobody can fire with it."
+
+[Footnote 1: "Wash-out" is a term used by the men when their firing is
+so wide of the mark that it fails to hit any spot on the card. The men
+apply it indiscriminately to anything in the nature of a failure.]
+
+On a new rifle being obtained I passed the preliminary test, and a
+rather repentant instructor remarked that it might be possible to make
+a soldier of me some day.
+
+Since then my fellow-soldiers and I have had almost unlimited rifle
+practice, on miniature and open ranges, at bull and disappearing
+targets, in field firing at distances from 100 to 600 yards. On a
+field exceeding 600 yards it is almost impossible to hit a point
+the size of an ordinary bull; fire then must be directed towards a
+position. Field or volley firing is very interesting. Once my company
+took train to Dunstable and advanced on an imaginary enemy that
+occupied the wastes of the Chiltern Hills. Practice commenced by
+firing at little squares of iron standing upright in a row about 200
+yards off in front of our line. These represented heads and shoulders
+of men rising over the trenches to take aim at us as we advanced. In
+extended order we came to our position, 200 yards distant from the
+front trenches. At the sound of the officer's whistle, we sank to
+the ground, facing our front, fixed our sights, and loaded. A second
+whistle was blown; we fired "three rounds rapid" at the foe. The
+aiming was very accurate; little spurts of earth danced up and around
+the targets, and every iron disc fell. The "searching ground," the
+locality struck by bullets, scarcely measured a dozen paces from front
+to rear, thus showing that there was very little erratic firing.
+
+"That's some shooting!" my Jersey friend remarked. "If the discs were
+Germans!"
+
+"They might shoot back," someone said, "and then we mightn't take as
+cool an aim."
+
+We are trained to the rifle; it is always with us, on parade,
+on march, on bivouac, and recently, when going through a dental
+examination, we carried our weapons of war into the medical officer's
+room. As befits units of a rifle regiment, we have got accustomed
+to our gun, and now, as fully trained men, we have established the
+necessary unity between hand and eye, and can load and unload our
+weapon with butt-plate stiff to shoulder and eye steady on target
+while the operation is in progress. In fact, our rifle comes to hand
+as easy as a walking-stick. We shall be sorry to lose it when the war
+is over, and no doubt we shall feel lonely without it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE COFFEE-SHOP AND WANKIN
+
+
+What the pump is to the villager, so the coffee-shop is to the soldier
+of the New Army. Here the men crowd nightly and live over again the
+incidents of the day. Our particular coffee-shop is situated in our
+corner of the town; our men patronise it; there are three assistants,
+plump, merry girls, and three of our men have fallen in love with
+them; in short, it is our very own restaurant, opened when we came
+here, and adapted to our needs; the waitresses wear our hat-badges,
+sing our songs, and make us welcome when we cross the door to take up
+our usual chairs and yarn over the cosy tables. The Jersey youth
+with the blue eyes, the Oxford man, who speaks of things that humble
+waitresses do not understand, the company drummer, the platoon
+sergeants, and the Cockney who vows that water is spoilt in making
+every cup of coffee he drinks, all come here, and all love the place.
+
+I have come to like the place and do most of my writing there,
+catching snatches of conversation and reminiscence as they float
+across to me.
+
+"I wasn't meanin' to 'urt ole Ginger Nobby nohow, but the muck I
+throwed took 'im dead on the jor. 'Wot's yer gime?' 'e 'ollers at me.
+'Wot's my gime?' I says back to 'im. 'Nuffin', if ye want ter know!' I
+says. 'I was just shyin' at squidges.'"
+
+Thus spoke the bright-eyed Cockney at the table next me, gazing
+regretfully at his empty coffee-cup and cutting away a fringe of
+rag-nails from his finger with a clasp-knife. The time was eight
+o'clock of the evening, and the youth was recounting an adventure
+which he had had in the morning when throwing mud at sparrows on the
+parade ground. A lump of clay had struck a red-haired non-commissioned
+officer on the jaw, and the officer became angry. The above was the
+Cockney version of the story. One of my friends, an army unit with the
+Oxford drawl, was voluble on another subject.
+
+"Russian writers have had a great effect on our literature," he said,
+deep in a favourite topic. "They have stripped bare the soul of man
+with a realism that shrivels up our civilisation and proves--Two
+coffees, please."
+
+A tall, well-set waitress, with several rings on her fingers, took the
+order as gravely as if she were performing some religious function;
+then she turned to the Cockney.
+
+"Cup of cawfee, birdie!" he cried, leaning over the table and trying
+to grip her hand. "Not like the last, mind; it was good water spoilt.
+I'll never come in 'ere again."
+
+"So you say!" said the girl, moving out of his way and laughing
+loudly.
+
+"Strike me balmy if I do!"
+
+"Where'll yer go then?"
+
+"Round the corner, of course," was the answer. "There's another bird
+there--and cawfee! It's some stuff too, not like 'ere."
+
+"All right; don't come in again if yer don't want ter."
+
+The Cockney got his second cup of coffee and pronounced it inferior to
+the first; then looked at an evening paper which Oxford handed to him,
+and studied a photograph of a battleship on the front page.
+
+"Can't stand these 'ere papers," he said, after a moment, as he got
+to his feet and lit a cigarette. "Nuffink but war in them always; I'm
+sick readin' about war! I saw your bit in one a couple of nights ago,"
+he said, turning to me.
+
+"What did you think of it?" I asked, anxious to hear his opinion on an
+article dealing with the life of his own regiment.
+
+"Nuffink much," he answered, honestly and frankly. "Everything you say
+is about things we all know; who wants to 'ear about them? D'ye get
+paid for writin' that?"
+
+One of his mates, a youth named Bill, who came in at that moment,
+overheard the remark.
+
+"Paid! Of course 'e gets paid," said the newcomer. "Bet you he gets
+'arf a crown for every time 'e writes for the paper."
+
+All sorts and conditions of soldiers drift into the place and discuss
+various matters over coffee and mince pies; they are men of all
+classes, who had been as far apart as the poles in civil life, and are
+now knit together in the common brotherhood of war. Caste and estate
+seem to have been forgotten; all are engaged in a common business,
+full of similar risks, and rewarded by a similar wage.
+
+In one corner of the room a game of cards was in progress, some
+soldiers were reading, and a few writing letters. Now and again a song
+was heard, and a score of voices joined in the chorus. The scene was
+one of indescribable gaiety; the temperament of the assembly was like
+a hearty laugh, infectious and healthy. Now and then a discussion took
+place, and towards the close of the evening hot words were exchanged
+between Bill and his friend, the bright-eyed Cockney.
+
+"I'll give old Ginger Nobby what for one day!" said the latter.
+
+"Will you? I don't think!"
+
+"Bet yer a bob I will!"
+
+"You'd lose it."
+
+"Would I?"
+
+"Straight you would!"
+
+"Strike me pink if I would!"
+
+"You know nothin' of what you're sayin'."
+
+"Don't I?"
+
+"Git!"
+
+"Shut!"
+
+In the coffee-shop Wankin is invariably the centre of an interested
+group. As the company scapegrace and black sheep of the battalion he
+occupies in his mates' eyes a position of considerable importance. His
+repartees are famous, and none knows better than he how to score off
+an unpopular officer or N.C.O. He has the distinction also of having
+spent more days in the guard-room than any other man in the battalion.
+
+On the occasion when identity discs were being served out to the men
+and a momentary stir pervaded the battalion, it was Wankin who first
+became involved in trouble.
+
+He employed the disc string to fasten the water-bottle of the man
+on his left to the haversack of the man on his right, and the
+colour-sergeant, livid with rage, vowed to chasten him by confining
+him eternally to barracks. But the undaunted company scapegrace was
+not to be beaten. Fastening the identity disc on his left eye he fixed
+a stern look on the sergeant.
+
+"My deah fellah," he drawled out, imitating the voice of the company
+lieutenant who wears an eyeglass, "your remarks are uncalled for,
+really. By Jove! one would think that a scrap of string was a gold
+bracelet or a diamond necklace. I could buy the disc and the string
+for a bloomin' 'apenny."
+
+"You'll pay dearly for it this time," said the colour with fine irony.
+"Three days C.B.[2] your muckin' about'll cost you." And before Wankin
+could reply the sergeant was reporting the matter to the captain.
+
+[Footnote 2: Confinement to Barracks.]
+
+Wankin is eternally in trouble, although his agility in dodging
+pickets and his skill in making a week's C.B. a veritable holiday are
+the talk of the regiment. All the officers know him, and many of them
+who have been victims of his smart repartee fear him more than
+they care to acknowledge. The subaltern with the eyeglass is a bad
+route-marcher, and Wankin once remarked in an audible whisper that
+the officer had learned his company drill with a drove of haltered
+pack-horses, and the officer bears the name of "Pack-horse" ever
+since.
+
+On another occasion the major suffered when a battalion kit inspection
+took place early one December morning. Wankin had sold his spare pair
+of boots, the pair that is always kept on top of the kit-bag; but when
+the major inspected Wankin's kit the boots were there, newly polished
+and freed from the most microscopic speck of dust. Someone tittered
+during the inspection, then another, and the major smelt a rat. He
+lifted Wankin's kit-bag in his hand and found Wankin's feet tucked
+under it--Wankin's feet in stockinged soles. The major was justly
+indignant. "One step to the front, left turn," he roared. "March in
+front of every rank in the battalion and see what you think of it!"
+
+With stockinged feet, cold, but still wearing an inscrutable smile of
+impudence, Wankin paraded in front of a thousand grinning faces and in
+due course got back to his kit and beside the sarcastic major.
+
+"What do you think of it?" asked the latter.
+
+"I don't think much of it, sir," Wankin replied. "It's the dirtiest
+regiment I ever inspected."
+
+Wankin was sometimes unlucky; fortune refused to favour him when he
+took up the work of picket on the road between St. Albans and London.
+No unit of his regiment is supposed to go more than two miles
+beyond St. Albans without a written permit, and guards are placed at
+different points of the two-mile radius to intercept the regimental
+rakes whose feet are inclined to roving. Wankin learned that the
+London road was not to be guarded on a certain Sunday. The regiment
+was to parade for a long route-march, and all units were to be in
+attendance. Wankin pondered over things for a moment, girt on his belt
+and sword and took up his position on the London road within a hundred
+yards of a wayside public-house. At this tavern a traveller from St.
+Albans may obtain a drink on a Sabbath day.
+
+Soldiers, like most mortals, are sometimes dry and like to drink;
+Wankin was often dry and Wankin had seldom much money to spend. The
+first soldier who came out from the town wanted to get to the tavern.
+
+"Can't pass here!" the mock-picket told him.
+
+"But I'm dry and I've a cold that catches me awful in the throat."
+
+"Them colds are dangerous," Wankin remarked in a contemplative voice,
+tinged with compassion. "Used to have them bad myself an' I feel one
+coming on. I think gin, same as they have in the trenches, is the
+stuff to put a cold away. But I'm on the rocks."
+
+"If you'll let me through I'll stand on my hands."
+
+"It's risky," said Wankin, then in a brave burst of bravado he said,
+"Damn it all! I'll let you go by. It's hard to stew dry so near the
+bar!" An hour later the young man set off towards home, and on his way
+he met two of his comrades-in-arms on the road.
+
+"Going to ---- pub?" he inquired.
+
+"Going to see that no one does go near it," was the answer. "Picket
+duty for the rest of the day, we are."
+
+"But Wankin--"
+
+"What?"
+
+The young man explained, and shortly afterwards Wankin went to
+headquarters under an armed escort. Three days later I saw his head
+sticking out through the guard-room window, and at that time I had not
+heard of the London road escapade.
+
+"Here on account of drink?" I asked him.
+
+"You fool," he roared at me. "Do you think I mistook this damned place
+for the canteen?"
+
+I like Wankin and most of his mates like him. We feel that when
+detention, barrack confinement and English taverns will be things
+of yesterday, Wankin will make a good and trustworthy friend in the
+trenches.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE NIGHT SIDE OF SOLDIERING
+
+
+There are three things in military life which make a great appeal to
+me; the rifle's reply to the pull of the trigger-finger, the gossip of
+soldiers in the crowded canteen, and the onward movement of a thousand
+men in full marching order with arms at the trail. And at no time is
+this so impressive as at night when with rifles held in a horizontal
+position by the side, the arm hanging easily from the shoulder, we
+march at attention in complete silence. Not a word is spoken by anyone
+save officers, little is heard but the dull crunch of boots on the
+gravel and the rustle of trenching-tool handles as they rub against
+trousers or haversack. Seen from a flank at the rear, the moving
+battalion, bending round the curve or straining to a hill, looks
+like the plesiosaur of the picture shown in the act of dragging its
+cumbrous length along. The silence is full of mystery, the gigantic
+mass, of which you form so minute a unit, is entirely voiceless, a
+dumb thing without a tongue, brooding, as it were, over some eternal
+sorrow or ancient wrong to which it cannot give expression. Marching
+thus at night, a battalion is doubly impressive. The silent monster is
+full of restrained power; resolute in its onward sweep, impervious to
+danger, it looks a menacing engine of destruction, steady to its goal,
+and certain of its mission.
+
+A march like this fell to our lot once every fortnight. At seven in
+the evening, loaded with full pack, bayonet, haversack, ground-sheet,
+water-bottle, overcoat, and rifle, we would take our way from the town
+out into the open country. The night varied in temper--sometimes it
+rained; again, it froze and chilled the ears and finger-tips; and
+once we marched with the full moon over us, lighting up the whole
+county--the fields, the woods, the lighted villages, the snug
+farmhouses, and the grey roads by which the long line of khaki-clad
+soldiers went on their way. That night was one to be remembered.
+
+We went off from the parade ground, a thousand strong, along the
+sloping road that sweeps down the hill on which our town is built.
+Giggling girls watched us depart--they are ever there when the
+soldiers are on the move--old gentlemen and ladies wished us luck as
+we passed, but never a head of a thousand heads turned to the left
+or right, never a tongue replied to the cheery greetings; we were
+marching at attention, with arms at the trail.
+
+The sky stood high, splashed with stars, and the moon, pinched and
+anćmic, hung above like a whitish speck of smoke that had curled into
+a ball. Marching at the rear, I could see the long brown line
+curving round a corner ahead, the butt-plates of the rifles sparkling
+brightly, the white trenching-tool handles shaking backward and
+forward at every move of the men.
+
+"March easy!"
+
+Half an hour had passed, and we were now in the open country. At
+the word of command rifles were slung over the shoulders, and the
+battalion found voice, first in brisk conversation and exchange
+of witticisms, then in shouting and song. We have escaped from the
+tyranny of "Tipperary," none of us sing it now, but that doggerel is
+replaced by other music-hall abominations which are at present in the
+full glory of their rocket-reign. A parody of a hymn, "Toiling on," is
+also popular, and my Jersey mate gave it full vent on the left.
+
+  "Lager beer! lager beer!
+  There's a lager beer saloon across the way.
+  Lager bee-ee-eer!
+  Is there any lager beer to give away."
+
+Although the goddess of music forgot me in the making, I found myself
+roaring out the chorus for all I was worth along with my Jersey
+friend.
+
+"You're singing some!" he remarked, sarcastically, when the chorus
+came to an end. "But, no wonder! This night would make a brass monkey
+sing. It's grand to be alive!"
+
+Every battalion has its marching songs. One of the favourites with us
+was written by a certain rifleman in "C" Company, sung to the air of
+"Off to Philadelphia in the Morning." It runs:
+
+  "It is said by our commanders that in trenches out by Flanders
+  There is work to do both trying and exciting,
+  And the men who man the trenches, they are England's men and
+          French's
+  Where the legions of the khaki-clad are fighting.
+  Though bearing up so gaily they are waiting for us daily,
+  For the fury of the foemen makes them nervous,
+  But the foe may look for trouble when we charge them at the double,
+  We, the London Irish out on active service.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    "With our rifles on our shoulder, sure there's no one could be
+          bolder,
+    And we'll double out to France when we get warnin'
+    And we'll not stop long for trifles, we're the London Irish
+          Rifles,
+    When we go to fight the Germans in the mornin'.
+
+  "An' the girls: oh it will grieve them when we take the train and
+          leave them,
+  Oh! what tears the dears will weep when we are moving,
+  But it's just the old, old story, on the path that leads to Glory,
+  Sure we cannot halt for long to do our loving.
+  They'll see us with emotion all departing o'er the ocean,
+  And every maid a-weepin' for her lover;
+  'Good-bye' we'll hear them callin', while so many tears are fallin'
+  That they'd almost swamp the boat that takes us over.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    "With our rifles," etc.
+
+Our colonel sang this song at a concert, thus showing the democratic
+nature of the New Army, where a colonel sings the songs written in the
+ranks of his own battalion.
+
+At the ten minutes' halt which succeeded the first hour's march,
+my Jersey friend spoke to me again. "Aren't there stars!" he said,
+turning his face to the heavens and gripping his rifle tightly as if
+for support. His wide open eyes seemed to have grown in size, and were
+full of an expression I had never seen in them before. "I like the
+stars," he remarked, "they're so wonderful. And to think that men are
+killing each other now, this very minute!" He clanked the butt of his
+gun on the ground and toyed with the handle of his sword.
+
+Hour after hour passed by; under the light of the moon the country
+looked beautiful; every pond showed a brilliant face to the heavens,
+light mists seemed to hover over every farmhouse and cottage; light
+winds swept through the telegraph wires; only the woods looked dark,
+and there the trees seemed to be hugging the darkness around them.
+
+On our way back a sharp shower, charged with a penetrating cold, fell.
+The waterproof ground-sheets were unrolled, and we tied them over our
+shoulders. When the rain passed, the water falling in drops from our
+equipment glittered so brightly that it put the polished swords and
+brilliant rifle butt-plates to shame.
+
+We stole into the town at midnight, when nearly all the inhabitants
+were abed. With arms at the trail, we marched along, throwing off
+company after company, at the streets where they billeted. The
+battalion dwindled down slowly; my party came to a halt, and the order
+"Dismiss!" was given, and we went to our billets. The Jersey youth
+came with me to my doorstep.
+
+"'Twas a grand march!" he remarked.
+
+"Fine," I replied.
+
+"I can't help looking at the stars!" he said as he moved off. "There
+are a lot to-night. And to think--" He hesitated, with the words
+trembling on his tongue, realising that he was going to repeat
+himself. "Anyway, there's some stars," he said in a low voice. "Good
+night!"
+
+There is a peculiar glamour about all night work. The importance of
+night manoeuvring was emphasised in the South African War, and we had
+ample opportunities of becoming accustomed to the darkness. On one
+occasion at about nine o'clock we swung out from the town with our
+regimental pipe-band playing to pursue some night operations. So far
+the men did not know what task had been assigned to them.
+
+"We've got to do to-night's work as quiet as a growing mushroom,"
+someone whispered to me, as we took our way off the road and lined up
+in the field that, stretching out in front and flanks, lost itself in
+formless mistiness under the loom of the encircling hedgerows. Here
+and there in the distance trees stand up gaunt and bare, holding
+out their leafless branches as if in supplication to the grey sky; a
+slight whisper of wind moaned along the ground and died away in the
+darkness.
+
+Our officer, speaking in a low voice, gave instructions. "The enemy is
+advancing to attack us in great force," he explained, "and our scouts
+have located him some six miles away from here. We have now found that
+it is inadvisable to march on any farther, as our reinforcements
+are not very strong and have been delayed to rear. Therefore we have
+decided to take up our present position as a suitable ground for
+operations and entrenching ourselves in--ready to give battle.
+Everything now must be done very quickly. Our lives will, perhaps,
+depend at some early date on the quickness with which we can hide
+ourselves from the foe. So; dig your trench as quickly as possible, as
+quickly, in fact, as if your life depended on it. Work must be done
+in absolute silence; no smoking is allowed, no lighting of matches, no
+talk.
+
+"A word about orders. Commands are not to be shouted, but will be
+passed along from man to man, and none must speak above his breath.
+The passing of messages along in this manner is very difficult; words
+get lost, and unnecessary words are added in transit. But I hope
+you'll make a success of the job. Now we'll see how quickly we can get
+hidden!"
+
+A "screen" of scouts (one man to every fifty yards of frontage) took
+up its place in line a furlong ahead. A hundred paces to rear of the
+"screen" the officers marked out the position of the trenches, placing
+soldiers as markers on the imaginary alignment. In front lay a clear
+field of fire, a deadly area for an enemy advancing to the attack.
+
+We took off our equipment, hafted the entrenching tools which we
+always carry, and bent to our work in the wet clay. The night was
+close and foggy, the smell of the damp earth and the awakening spring
+verdure filled our nostrils. In the distance was heard the rumbling of
+trains, the jolting of wagons along the country road, the barking of
+dogs, and clear and musical through all these sounds came the song of
+a mavis or merle from the near hedgerows.
+
+In the course of ten minutes we were sweating at our work, and several
+units of the party took off their tunics. One hapless individual got
+into trouble immediately. His shirt was not regulation colour, it was
+spotlessly white and visible at a hundred yards. A whispered order
+from the officer on the left faltered along the line of diggers.
+
+"Man with white shirt, put on his tunic!"
+
+The order was obeyed in haste, the white disappeared rapidly as the
+arms of the culprit slid into sleeves, and the covering tunic hid his
+wrong from the eyes of man.
+
+The night wore on. Now and again a clock in the town struck out the
+time with a dull, weary clang that died away in the darkness. On both
+sides I could see stretching out, like some gigantic and knotted
+rope, the row of bent workers, the voiceless toilers, busy with their
+labours. Picks rose into the air, remained poised a moment, then sank
+to tear the sluggish earth and pull it apart. The clay was thrown out
+to front and rear, and scattered evenly, so that the natural contour
+of the ground might show no signs of man's interference. And even as
+we worked the section commanders stole up and down behind us, urging
+the men to make as little sound as possible--our safety depended on
+our silence. But pick and shovel, like the rifle, will sing at their
+toil, and insistent and continuous, as if in threat, they rasped out
+the almost incoherent song of labour.
+
+A man beside me suddenly laid down his shovel and battled with a cough
+that strove to break free and riot in the darkness. I could see his
+face go purple, his eyes stare out as if endeavouring to burst from
+their sockets. Presently he was victor, and as he bent to his shovel
+again I heard him whisper huskily, "'Twas a stiff go, that; it almost
+floored me."
+
+Thrown from tongue to tongue as a ball is thrown in play, a message
+from the captain on the flank hurried along the living line. "Close in
+on the left," was the order, and we hastened to obey. Trenching tools
+were unhafted and returned to their carriers, equipments were donned
+again, belts tightened, and shoulder-straps buttoned. Singly, in
+pairs, and in files we hurried back to the point of assembly, to find
+a very angry captain awaiting us.
+
+"I am very disappointed with to-night's work," he said. "I sent
+five messages out; two of them died on the way; a third reached its
+destination, but in such a muddled condition that it was impossible to
+recognise it as the one sent off. The order to cease work was the only
+one that seemed to hurry along. Out at the front, where all orders
+are passed along the trenches in this manner, it is of the utmost
+importance that every word is repeated distinctly, and that no
+order miscarries. Even out there, it is found very difficult to send
+messages along."
+
+The captain paused for a moment; then told a story. "It is said that
+an officer at the front gave out the following message to the men in
+the trenches: 'In the wood on the right a party of German cavalry,'
+and when the message travelled half a mile it had changed to: 'German
+Navy defeated in the North Sea.' We don't know how much truth there
+is in the story, but I hope we will not make a mistake like that out
+there."
+
+Lagging men were still stealing in as we took up our places in columns
+of fours. A clock struck out the hour of twelve, and the bird in
+the hedgerow was still singing as we marched out to the roadway, and
+followed our merry pipers home to town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DIVISIONAL EXERCISE AND MIMIC WARFARE
+
+
+Divisional exercise is a great game of make-believe. All sorts of
+liberties are taken, the clock is put forward or back at the command
+of the general, a great enemy army is created in the twinkling of an
+eye, day is turned into night and a regular game of topsy-turvydom
+indulged in. On the occasion of which I write the whole division
+was out. The time was nine o'clock in the forenoon, and an imaginary
+forced march was nearly completed, and an imaginary day was at an end.
+We were being hurried up as reinforcements to the main army, which was
+in touch with the enemy ahead and an engagement was developing. Our
+battalion came to a halt on the roadway, closing in to the left in
+order to give full play to the field telephone service in process of
+being laid.
+
+Our officers went out in front to seek a position for a bivouac; the
+doctor accompanied them to examine the place chosen, see to the
+water supply, the drainage, and sanitation. In addition to this, our
+commanders had to find the battalion a resting-ground easy to defend
+and of merit as a tactical position.
+
+At ten o'clock we lay down, battalion after battalion, just as we
+halted: equipment on, our packs unloosened but shoved up under our
+heads, and our rifles by our sides, muzzles towards the enemy. One
+word of command would bring twenty thousand men from their beds, ready
+in an instant, rifles loaded, bayonets at hips, quick to the route and
+ready for battle. We would rise, as we slept, in full marching order,
+and the space of a moment would find us hurrying, fully armed, into
+battle, with the sleep of night still heavy in our eyes.
+
+For miles around the soldiers lay down, each in his place and every
+place occupied. Hardly a word was spoken; commands were whispered, and
+our officers crept round explaining the work ahead. Two miles in front
+the enemy was assembled in great strength on a river, and by dawn, if
+all went well, we would enter the firing line. At present we had to
+lie still; no man was to move about, and sentries with fixed bayonets
+were stationed at front, flank, and rear, ready to give the alarm at
+the first sign of danger.
+
+Behind us were the kitchen, horse-lines, and latrines. The position of
+these varies as the wind changes, and it is imperative that unhealthy
+odours are not blown across the bivouac. The battalion lay in two
+parallel squares, with a gangway, blocked up with baggage and various
+necessaries, between. On these squares no refuse was to be thrown
+down; the ground had to be kept clean; papers, scraps of meat, and
+pieces of bread, if not eaten, had to be buried.
+
+Even as we lay, and while the officers were explaining the work in
+hand, the artillery took up its stand on several wooded knolls that
+rose behind us. What a splendid sight, the artillery going into
+action! Heavy guns, an endless line of them, swept over the greensward
+and rattled into place. Six horses strained at each gun, which was
+accompanied by two ammunition wagons with six horses to each wagon.
+How many horses! How many guns! Out of nowhere in particular they
+came, and disappeared as if behind a curtain barely four hundred
+yards away. Thirty minutes afterwards I fancied as I looked in their
+direction that I could see black, ominous muzzles peering through
+the undergrowth. Probably I was mistaken. Anyhow, they were there,
+guarding us while we slept, our silent watchers!
+
+About eleven o'clock an orderly stole in and spoke to the colonel, a
+hurried consultation in which all the officers took part was held,
+and the messenger departed. Again followed an interval of silence,
+only broken by the officers creeping round and giving us further
+information. The enemy was repulsed, they told us, and was now in
+retreat, but before moving off he had blown up all the bridges on
+the river. The artillery of our main army in front was shelling the
+fleeing foe, and our engineers had just set off to build three pontoon
+bridges, so that the now sleeping division could cross at dawn and
+follow the army in retreat.
+
+Our dawn came at one o'clock in the afternoon; a whistle was blown
+somewhere near at hand, and the battalion sprang to life; every unit,
+with pack on back, cartridge pouches full, rifle at the order, was
+afoot and ready. Only two hours before had the engineers set out to
+build the bridges which the whole division, with its regiment after
+regiment, with its artillery, its guns, ammunition wagons and horses,
+its transport section, and vehicles of all descriptions, was now to
+cross. The landscape had changed utterly, the country was alive, and
+had found voice; the horse-lines were broken, and all the animals,
+from the colonel's charger to the humble pack horse, were on the move.
+The little squares, dotted brown, had taken on new shape, and were
+transformed into companies of moving men in khaki. We were out on the
+heels of the retreating foe.
+
+Two hours' forced marching brought us to the river, a real one, with
+three pontoon bridges, newly built and held firm on flat-bottomed
+boats moored in mid-stream. We took our way across, and bent to the
+hill on the other side. Half-way up, in a narrow lane, a wagon got
+stuck in the front of our battalion, and we were forced to come to a
+halt for a moment. Looking back, I could see immediately behind three
+lines of men straining to the hill; farther back the same lines were
+crossing the bridges and, away in the far distance, pencilled brown on
+the ploughed fields, the three lines of khaki crawled along like long
+threads endlessly unwinding from some invisible ball. Now and again
+I could see the artillery coming into sight, only to disappear again
+over a wooded knoll or into an almost invisible hollow.
+
+Thus the division, the apparently limitless lines of men, horses, and
+guns crawled on the track of the fleeing enemy. As we stood there,
+held in check by the wagon, and as I looked back at the thousands of
+soldiers in the rear, I felt indeed that I was a minute mite amongst
+the many. And then a second thought struck me. The whole mass of men
+around me was a small thing in relation to the numbers engaged in
+the great war. Even I, Rifleman Something or Another, No. So-and-so,
+bulked larger in the division as one of its units than the division
+did in the war as a unit of the Allied Forces.
+
+Even more interesting than divisional exercises is the mimic
+warfare that is heralded by a notice in battalion orders such as the
+following: "The battalion will take part in brigade exercise to-day.
+Ten rounds of blank ammunition and haversack rations will be carried."
+
+At eight o'clock in the morning whistles were blown at the bottom of
+the street in which my company is billeted, and the soldiers, rubbing
+the sleep from their eyes or munching the last mouthful of a hasty
+breakfast, came trooping out from the snug middle-class houses
+in which they are quartered. The morning was bitterly cold, and
+the falling rain splashed soberly on the pavement, every drop
+coming slowly to ground as if selecting a spot to rest on. The
+colour-sergeant, standing at the end of the street, whistle in hand,
+was in a nasty temper.
+
+"Hurry up, you heavy-footed beggars," he yelled to the men. "The
+parade takes place to-day, not to-morrow! And you, what's wrong with
+your understandings?" he called to a man who came along wearing carpet
+slippers.
+
+"My boots are bad, colour," is the answer. "I cannot march in them."
+
+"And are you goin' to march in them drorin'-room abominations?" roared
+the sergeant. "Get your boots mended and grease out of it."
+
+At roll-call three of the company were found to be absent; two were
+sick, and one who had been found guilty of using bad language to a
+N.C.O. was confined to the guard-room. Those who answered their names
+were served out with packets of blank ammunition, one packet per man,
+and each containing ten cartridges wrapped in brown paper and tied
+with a blue string.
+
+The captain read the following instructions: "The enemy is reported
+to be in strong force on X hill, and Battalions A and B are ordered
+to dislodge him from that position. A will form first line of attack,
+B will send up reserves and supports as needed." The rifles were
+examined by our young lieutenant, after which inspection the company
+joined the battalion, and presently a thousand men with rifles on
+shoulder, bayonets and haversacks on left hip, and ammunition in
+pouches, were marching through the rain along the muddy streets, out
+into the open country.
+
+The day promised to be an interesting one from my point of view; I had
+never taken part in a mimic battle before, and the day's work was to
+be in many ways similar to operations on the real field of battle.
+"Only nobody gets killed, of course," my mate told me. He had taken
+part in this kind of work before, and was wise in his superior
+knowledge.
+
+"One-half of the brigade, two thousand men, is our enemy," he
+explained; "and we're going to fight them. The battalion that's
+helping us is on in front, and it will soon be fighting. When it's
+hard pressed we'll go up to help, for we're the supports. It won't be
+long till we hear the firing."
+
+An hour's brisk march was followed by a halt, when we were ordered
+to draw well into the left of the road to let the company guns go by.
+Dark-nosed and cold, they wheeled past, the horses sweating as they
+strained at the carriage shafts; the drivers, by deft handling,
+pulling the steeds clear of the ruts; out in front they swung, and the
+battalion closed up and resumed its march behind.
+
+The rain ceased and a cold sun shot feeble rays over the sullen
+December landscape. Again a halt was called; the brigadier-general,
+followed by two officers and several orderlies, galloped up, and a
+hurried consultation with our colonel took place. In a moment the
+battalion moved ahead only to come to a dead stop again after ten
+minutes' slow marching, and find a company detailed off to guard the
+rear. The other companies, led by their officers, turned off the road
+and moved in sections across the newly furrowed and soggy fields. A
+level sweep of December England broken only by leafless hedgerows and
+wire fencing stretched out in front towards a wooded hillock, that
+stood up black against the sky-line two miles away. The enemy held
+this wood; we could hear his guns booming and now considered ourselves
+under shell fire. Each squad of sixteen men marched in the rear or on
+the flank of its neighbour; this method of progression minimises the
+dangers of bursting shrapnel, for a shell falling in the midst of one
+body of men and causing considerable damage will do no harm to the
+adjacent party.
+
+Somewhere near us our gunners were answering the enemy's fire; but so
+well hidden were the guns that I could not locate them. We still
+crept slowly forward; section after section crawled across the black,
+ploughed fields, now rising up like giant caterpillars to the crest
+of a mound, and again dropping out of sight in the hollow land like
+corks on a comber. On our heels the ambulance corps followed with its
+stretchers, and in front the enemy was firing vigorously; over the
+belt of trees that lined the summit of the hillock little wisps of
+smoke could be seen rising and fading in the air.
+
+Suddenly we came into line with our guns hidden in a deep narrow
+cart-track, their dark muzzles trained on the enemy, and the gunners,
+knee-deep in the mire of the lane, sweating at their work. "We're
+under covering fire now," our young lieutenant explained, as we
+trudged forward, lifting enormous masses of clay on our boots at every
+step. "One battalion is engaged already; hear the shots."
+
+The rifles were barking on the left front; in a moment the reports
+from that quarter died away, and the right found voice. The men of
+the first line were in the trenches dug by us a fortnight earlier, and
+there they would remain, we knew, until their supports came to their
+aid. Already we passed several of them, who were detailed off on the
+anticipated casualty list in the morning. These wore white labels in
+their buttonholes, telling of the nature of their wounds. One label
+bore the words: "Shot in right shoulder; wound not dangerous." Another
+read: "Leg blown off," and a third ran: "Flesh wounds in arm and leg."
+These men would be taken into the care of the ambulance party when it
+arrived.
+
+When within fifteen hundred yards of the enemy, the command for
+extended order advance was given, and the section spread out in one
+long line, fronting the knoll, with five pace intervals between the
+men. We were now under rifle-fire, and all further movements forward
+were made in short sharp rushes, punctuated by halts, during which
+we lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the soft earth, and the
+rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin.
+
+Six hundred yards from the enemy's front we tumbled into the trenches
+already in possession of Battalion B, and I found myself ankle-deep in
+mire, beside a unit of another regiment who was enjoying a cigarette
+and blowing rings of smoke into the air. Although no enemy was visible
+we got the order to fire, and I discharged three rounds in rapid
+succession.
+
+"Don't fire, you fool!" said the man who was blowing the smoke rings.
+"Them blanks dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the clay from
+your clothes t'night you'll not want to muck about with your rifle.
+There's a price for copper, and I always sell my cartridge cases. The
+first time I came out I fired, but never since."
+
+Several rushes forward followed, and the penultimate hundred yards
+were covered with fixed bayonets. In this manner we were prepared for
+any surprise. The enemy replied fitfully to our fire, and we could now
+see several khaki-clad figures with white hat-bands--the differential
+symbols--moving backwards and forwards amidst the trees. Presently
+they disappeared as we worked nearer to their lines. We were now
+rushing forward, lying down to fire, rising and running only to drop
+down again and discharge another round. Within fifty yards of the
+coppice the order to charge was given. A yell, almost fiendish in its
+intensity, issued from a thousand throats; anticipation of the real
+work which is to be done some day, lent spirit to our rush. In an
+instant we were in the wood, smashing the branches with our bayonets,
+thrusting at imaginary enemies, roaring at the top of our voices, and
+capping a novel fight with a triumphant final.
+
+And our enemies? Having finished their day's work they were now
+fifteen minutes' march ahead of us on the way back to their rest and
+rations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE GENERAL INSPECTION AND THE EVERLASTING WAITING
+
+
+One of our greatest trials is the general inspection, which takes
+place every month, and once Lord Kitchener inspected the battalion, in
+company with the division quartered in our town. But that was before
+I joined. It involves much labour in the way of preparation. On one
+occasion, midnight the night before, a Friday, found us still busy
+with our work. My cot-mate was in difficulties with his rifle--the
+cloth of the pull-through stuck in the barrel, and he could not move
+it, although he broke a bamboo cane and bent a poker in the attempt.
+"It's a case for the armoury," he remarked gloomily. "What a nuisance
+that ramrods are done away with! We've been at it since eight o'clock,
+and getting along A1. Now that beastly pull-through!"
+
+What an evening's work! On the day following the brigadier-general
+was to inspect us, and we had to appear on parade spick and span, with
+rifles spotless, and every article of our equipment in good order.
+Packs were washed and hung over the rim of the table by our billet
+fire, web-belts were cleaned, and every speck of mud and grease
+removed. Our packs, when dry, were loaded with overcoat, mess-tin,
+housewife, razor, towel, etc., and packed tightly and squarely,
+showing no crease at side or bulge at corner. Ground-sheets were
+neatly rolled and fastened on top of pack, no overlapping was allowed;
+rifles were oiled and polished from muzzle to butt-plate, and swords
+rubbed with emery paper until not a single speck of rust remained.
+
+Saturday morning found us trim and tidy on the parade ground. An
+outsider would hardly dream that we were the men who had ploughed
+through the muddy countryside and sunk to the knees in the furrowed
+fields daily since the wet week began. Where was the clay that had
+caked brown on our khaki, the rust that spoilt the lustre of our
+swords, and the fringes that the wire fences tore on our tunics? All
+gone; soap and water, a brush, needle and thread, and a scrap of emery
+paper had worked the miracle. We stood easy awaiting the arrival
+of the general; platoons sized from flanks to centres (namely, the
+tallest men stood at the flanks, and the khaki lines dwindled in
+stature towards the small men in the middle), and company officers at
+front and rear. The officers saw that everything was correct, that no
+lace-ends showed from under the puttees, that no lace-eye lay idle,
+and that laces were not crossed over the boots. Each man had shaved
+and got his hair cut, his hat set straight on his head, and the
+regimental badge in proper position over the idle chin-strap.
+Pocket-flaps and tunics were buttoned, water-bottles and haversacks
+hung straight, the tops of the latter in line with the bayonet rings,
+and entrenching tool handles were scrubbed clean--my mate and I had
+spent much soap on ours the night before.
+
+One of our officers gave us instructions as to how we had to behave
+during the inspection, more especially when we were under the direct
+gaze of the general.
+
+"Not a movement," he told us. "Every eyelash must be still. If the
+general asks me your name and I make a mistake and say you are Smith
+instead of Brown, your real name, you're not to say a word. You are
+Brown for the time being. If he speaks to you, you're to answer:
+'Sir,' and 'Sir' only to every question. If you're asked what was your
+age last birthday, 'Sir' is to be the only answer. Is that clear to
+every man?"
+
+It was, indeed, clear, surprisingly clear; but we wondered at the
+command, which was new to us. To answer in this fashion appeared
+strange to us; we thought (the right to think is not denied to a
+soldier) it a funny method of satisfying a general's curiosity.
+
+He came, a tall, well-set man, with stern eyebrows and a heavy
+moustache, curled upwards after the manner of an Emperor whom we
+heartily dislike, attended by a slim brigade major, who wore a rather
+large eyeglass, and made several entries in his notebook, as he
+followed on the heels of the superior inspecting the battalion.
+
+We stood, every unit of us, sphinx-like, immovable, facing our front
+and resigned to our position. To an onlooker it might seem as if we
+were frozen there--our fingers glued on to our rifles and our feet
+firm to the earth at an angle of forty-five degrees. I stood near the
+rear, and could see the still platoons in front, not a hat moved, not
+a boot shifted. The general broke the spell when he was passing me.
+
+"Another button. There were forty-seven the last time," he said, and
+the man with the eyeglass made an entry in the notebook. Through an
+oversight, I had helped to lower the prestige of the battalion: a
+pocket flap of my tunic was unbuttoned.
+
+Kit inspection was a business apart; the general picked out several
+soldiers haphazard and ordered their packs to be opened for an
+examination of the contents--spoons, shirts, socks, and the various
+necessaries which dismounted men in full marching order must carry on
+their persons were inspected carefully. A full pack is judged best by
+its contents, and nearly all packs passed muster. One man was unlucky:
+his mate was chosen for kit inspection, but this hapless individual
+came out minus a toothbrush and comb, and the friend in need took his
+place in the freshly-formed ranks. Here, the helper found that his own
+kit was inefficient, he had forgotten to put in a pair of socks. That
+afternoon he had to do two hours' extra drill.
+
+Perhaps an even greater trial than Divisional Inspection was that of
+waiting orders when we were the victims of camp rumours. But this was
+as nothing to the false alarms. There is some doggerel known to the
+men which runs:
+
+  "We're off to the front," said the colonel,
+      as he placed us in the train,
+  "And we went at dawn from the station,
+      and at night came back again."
+
+For months we had drilled and drilled, all earnest in our labours and
+filled with enthusiasm for our new profession, and daily we await the
+order to leave for foreign parts. Where are we going to when we leave
+England? France, Egypt, or India? Rumour had it yesterday that we
+would go to Egypt; to-day my mate, the blue-eyed Jersey youth, heard
+from a friend, who heard it from a colour-sergeant, that we are going
+out to India, where we will be kept as guardians of the King's Empire
+for a matter of four years. Ever since I joined the Army it has been
+the same: reports name a new destination for my battalion daily.
+
+Afterwards we had to go and help the remarkable Russians who passed
+through England on the way to France; but when the Russians faded from
+the ken of vision and the Press Bureau denied their very existence,
+it was immediately reported that we had been drilled into shape in
+order to demolish De Wet and all his South African rebels. De Wet was
+captured and is now under military control, and still we waited orders
+to move from the comfortable billets and crowded streets of our town.
+Dry eyes would see us depart, mocking children would bid us sarcastic
+farewells, the kindly landladies and their fair daughters would laugh
+when we bade adieu and moved away to some destination unknown. We had
+already taken our farewell three times, and on each occasion we have
+come back again to our billets before the day that saw our departure
+came to an end.
+
+The heart of every man thrilled with excitement when the announcement
+was made for the first time, one weary evening when we had just
+completed a ten-hour divisional field exercise. Our officer read it
+from a typewritten sheet, and the announcement was as follows:
+
+    "All men in the battalion must stand under arms until further
+    orders. No soldier is to leave his billet; boots are not to be
+    taken off, and best marching pairs are to be worn. Every unit
+    of the company who lacks any part of the necessary equipment
+    must immediately report at quartermaster's stores, where all
+    wants will be supplied. Identity discs to be worn, swords
+    must be cleaned and polished, and twenty-four hours' haversack
+    rations are to be carried. The battalion has to entrain for
+    some unknown destination when called upon."
+
+The news spread through the town: the division was going to move! On
+the morrow we would be sailing for France, in a fortnight we would be
+in Berlin! Our landladies met us at the doors as we came in, looks of
+entreaty on their faces and tears in their eyes. The hour had come; we
+were going to leave them. And the landladies' daughters? One, a buxom
+wench of eighteen, kissed the Jersey youth in sight of the whole
+battalion, but nobody took any notice of the unusual incident. All
+were busy with their own thoughts, and eager for the new adventures
+before them.
+
+I did not go to sleep that night; booted and dressed I lay on the
+hearthrug in front of the fire, and waited for the call. About four
+o'clock in the morning a whistle was blown outside on the street;
+I got to my feet, put on my equipment, fastened the buckles of my
+haversack, bade adieu to my friends of the billet who had risen from
+bed to see me off, and joined my company.
+
+Five or six regiments were already on the move; transport wagons,
+driven by khaki-clad drivers with rifles slung over their shoulders,
+lumbered through the dimly-lighted thoroughfares; ammunition vans
+stood at every street corner; guns rattled along drawn by straining
+horses, the sweat steaming from the animals' flanks and withers;
+an ambulance party sped through the greyness of the foggy morning,
+accompanied by a Red Cross lorry piled high with chests and stretcher
+poles, and soldiers in files and fours, in companies and columns, were
+in movement everywhere--their legions seemed countless and endless.
+
+Ammunition was given out from the powder magazine; each man was handed
+150 rounds of ball cartridge--a goodly weight to carry on a long day's
+march! With our ammunition we were now properly equipped and ready for
+any emergency. Each individual carried on his person in addition to
+rifle, bayonet (sword is the military name for the latter weapon)
+and ball cartridge, a blanket and waterproof sheet, an overcoat, a
+water-bottle, an entrenching tool and handle, as well as several other
+lighter necessaries, such as shirts, socks, a knife, fork, and spoon,
+razor, soap, and towel.
+
+At eight o'clock, when the wintry dawn was breaking and the fog
+lifting, we entered the station. Hundreds of the inhabitants of the
+town came to see us off and cheer us on the long way to Tipperary: and
+Tipperary meant Berlin. One of the inhabitants, a kindly woman who is
+loved by the soldiers of my company, to whom she is very good, came
+to the station as we were leaving, and presented a pair of mittens to
+each of fifty men.
+
+The train started on its journey, puffed a feeble cloud of smoke
+into the air, and suddenly came to a dead stop. Heads appeared at
+the windows, and voices inquired if the engine-driver had taken the
+wrong turning on the road to Berlin. The train shunted back into the
+station, and we all went back to our billets again, but not before
+our officers informed us that we had done the work of entraining very
+smartly, and when the real call did come we would lose no time on the
+journey to an unknown destination.
+
+Later we had two further lessons in entraining, and we came to fear
+that when the summons did come dry eyes would watch us depart and
+sarcastic jibes make heavy our leave-taking. Indeed, some of the
+inhabitants of our town hinted that we should never leave the place
+until the local undertakers make a profit on our exit. So much for
+their gentle sarcasm! But well they knew that one day in the near
+future it would suddenly occur to our commanders to take us with them
+in the train to Berlin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES
+
+
+Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move,
+so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was
+not forthcoming.
+
+"You are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning,"
+announced my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.
+
+"How do you know?" I inquired.
+
+"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the
+troops."
+
+"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and
+splendid cooking I should miss greatly.
+
+"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A
+sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being.
+
+"The ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't
+stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady
+continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.
+
+Parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets
+and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We were weary of false
+alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. Some of us had been
+training for fully six months, others had joined the Army when war
+broke out, and we were still secure in England. "Why have we joined?"
+the men asked. "Is it to line the streets when the troops come home?
+We are a balmy regiment."
+
+One evening, Thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were
+interesting. One item ran as follows: "All fees due to billets will be
+paid up to Friday night. If any other billet expenses are incurred
+by battalion the same will be paid on application to the War Office."
+Friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements
+in orders. The following items appeared: "Mess tin covers will be
+issued to-morrow. No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the
+battalion overseas. All deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow
+morning. Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers who have not yet
+received a copy of the New Testament can have same on application at
+the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.
+
+"Where are we going?" we asked one another. Some answered saying that
+we were to help in the sack of Constantinople, others suggested Egypt,
+but all felt that we were going off to France at no very distant date.
+Was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade
+of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks
+when trying on the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested the trenches
+and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or
+the burning sands of Egypt.
+
+Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the
+quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets,
+ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts,
+water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one
+other things required by the soldier on active service. In addition
+to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are
+more particular over this article of attire than over any other),
+two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. The latter looked
+tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were
+woollen, very warm and made in Canada. This reminds me of an amusing
+episode which took place last general inspection. While standing easy,
+before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared
+razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in
+Germany. But these were bought by the soldiers before war started. At
+least all affirmed that this was so.
+
+Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries
+at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that
+night. I drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were
+crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends.
+Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and
+lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good
+wishes and tears.
+
+Sunday.--No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the
+streets. The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the
+swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and
+the dainty wrist-watches. They now appeared in web equipment, similar
+to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer
+will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous
+by his uniform.
+
+Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement
+which had been waited for so long. "To-morrow we proceed overseas," he
+said. "On behalf of the colonel I've to thank you all for the way in
+which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain
+that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might
+indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the
+spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."
+
+This was the announcement. The men received it gleefully and a hubbub
+of conversation broke out in the ranks. "We're going at last"; "I
+thought when I joined that I'd be off next morning"; "What price a
+free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll be some great sport!" Such were the
+remarks that were bandied to and fro. But some were silent, feeling,
+no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle
+chatter.
+
+A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the Preservation of Health on
+Field Service," was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a
+few quotations.
+
+"Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to
+keep it outside."
+
+"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."
+
+"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."
+
+"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are
+washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at
+the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean
+pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and
+vice versa."
+
+"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."
+
+"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no
+other part of the body."
+
+At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street
+and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks,
+rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the
+pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling
+into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing
+orders.
+
+Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for
+orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the
+command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to
+be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our
+quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners,
+a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great
+distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of
+momentous finality:
+
+The battalion moves to-morrow.
+
+Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.
+
+Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute
+silence.
+
+I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my
+cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into
+shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the
+bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in
+our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing
+and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the
+night before.
+
+When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon
+and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was
+chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and
+whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to
+beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few
+street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed
+of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every
+billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons,
+wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins,
+stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground
+where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the
+other, were preparing to call the roll.
+
+Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man,
+and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected
+and identity discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were
+allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the
+biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had
+disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await
+us in ---- but I anticipate, and at present all we know is that our
+regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive,
+we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.
+
+We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was
+shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets
+lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who
+wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."
+
+Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted
+to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers
+occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class.
+
+Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my
+comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall
+songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment,
+the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold
+hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the
+rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the Cockney
+youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument
+in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man.
+The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just
+been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a
+Dickens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep,
+his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with
+large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a
+slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been
+waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the
+wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.
+
+Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their
+names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage
+was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends."
+Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers
+and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:
+
+"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"
+
+"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.
+
+"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic
+tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great
+traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he
+owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.
+"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He
+looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.
+
+Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that
+we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with
+their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night
+would be a good one for sailing to France.
+
+If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JUST PUBLISHED
+
+
+THE RAT-PIT
+
+BY PATRICK MACGILL, AUTHOR OF "CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END." CROWN 8VO.
+PRICE 6/-. INLAND POSTAGE 5D. EXTRA.
+
+"Children of the Dead End" came upon the literary world as something
+of a surprise; it dealt with a phase of life about which nothing
+was known. It was compared with the work of Borrow and Kipling.
+Incidentally three editions, aggregating 10,000 copies, were called
+for within fifteen days. In his new book Mr. MacGill still deals with
+the underworld he knows so well. He tells of a life woven of darkest
+threads, full of pity and pathos, lighted up by that rare and quaint
+humour that made his first book so attractive. "The Rat-Pit" tells the
+story of an Irish peasant girl brought up in an atmosphere of poverty,
+where the purity of the poor and the innocence of maidenhood stand
+out in simple relief against a grim and sombre background. Norah Ryan
+leaves her home at an early age, and is plunged into a new world where
+dissolute and heedless men drag her down to their own miry level. Mr.
+MacGill's lot has been cast in strange places, and every incident of
+his book is pregnant with a vivid realism that carries the conviction
+that it is a literal transcript from life, as in fact it is. Only
+last summer, just before he enlisted, Mr. MacGill spent some time in
+Glasgow reviving old memories of its underworld. His characters are
+mostly real persons, and their sufferings, the sufferings of women
+burdened and oppressed with wrongs which women alone bear, are a
+strong indictment against a dubious civilisation.
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+10,000 COPIES CALLED FOR IN 10 DAYS.
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END
+
+The Autobiography of a Navvy. By PATRICK MACGILL. Crown 8vo. Price
+6/-. Inland Postage 5d. extra.
+
+  MANCHESTER GDN. "A grand book."
+  GLOBE "A living story."
+  D. CITIZEN "Still booming!"
+  STANDARD "A notable book."
+  SATURDAY REVIEW "An achievement."
+  BOOKMAN "Something unique."
+  OUTLOOK "A remarkable book."
+  BYSTANDER "A human document."
+  COUNTRY LIFE "A human document."
+  TRUTH "Intensely interesting."
+  EV. STANDARD "A thrilling achievement."
+  D. TELEGRAPH "Will have a lasting value."
+  PALL MALL GAZ. "Nothing can withstand it."
+  SPHERE "The book has genius in it."
+  BOOKMAN "A poignantly human book."
+  ENGLISH REVIEW "A wonderful piece of work."
+  GRAPHIC "An enthralling slice of life."
+  D. SKETCH "A book that will make a stir."
+  ATHENĆUM "We welcome such books as this."
+  ILL. LONDON NEWS "An outstanding piece of work."
+  D. CHRONICLE "Tremendous, absorbing, convincing."
+  REV. OF REVIEWS "The book is not merely notable--it is remarkable."
+  LA STAMPA "Un nuovo grande astro della litteratura inglese."
+  D. EXPRESS "Will be one of the most talked-of books of the year."
+  SPECTATOR "A book of unusual interest, which we cannot but praise."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS, LD. 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+SONGS OF THE DEAD END
+
+POEMS BY PATRICK MACGILL
+
+
+"Remarkable."--_Daily Express_.
+
+"Work of real genius."--_Bookman_.
+
+"This is a remarkable book."--_Graphic_.
+
+"He can do things, can our navvy poet."--_The Clarion_.
+
+"This extraordinary man of the people."--_Public Opinion_.
+
+"The greatest poet since Kipling."--JAMES DOUGLAS, in _The Star_.
+
+"Verses of remarkable vigour, variety and ability."--_Pall Mall
+Gazette_.
+
+"MacGill's work is taking the literary world by storm."--_Morning
+Leader_.
+
+"His poems show a power of direct observation and of strong
+emotion."--_Spectator_.
+
+"We are at a loss to understand what manner of youth he
+is."--_Manchester Guardian_.
+
+"The author has a very considerable gift."--ANDREW LANG, in
+_Illustrated London News_.
+
+"It is a life which has been an Odyssey, the picturesque life a tone
+poet can weather through as Mr. MacGill has done."--_Book Monthly_.
+
+"The traits of an ardent, fearless personality, expressed in words of
+fire, are here again in all their lyrical richness.... The poet says:
+
+  'I sing my songs to you--and well,
+  You'll maybe like them--who can tell?'
+
+We do like them."--_Daily Chronicle_.
+
+"When, in the terse vernacular of his calling, he gives voice to the
+sorrows and impatience, the humour and the resignation of his workmen
+comrades, and lets his songs find their own natural bent, then at
+length he attains real lyrical strength and sincerity.... For we need
+have no hesitation in hailing Mr. MacGill as a poet."--_Sunday Times_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+40,000 SOLD IN 14 DAYS
+
+QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR
+
+SOME PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. ILLUSTRATED BY DIAGRAMS BY LT.-GEN.
+SIR ROBERT BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B. Price 1/- net. Post Free by all
+Booksellers 1/2.</b>
+
+FIRST REVIEWS
+
+_Daily Mail_.--"B.P. has a reputation which is second to none, and
+this little book is so brightly and cleverly written that it will be
+read with advantage by the recruit and studied with infinite pleasure
+and profit by the professional soldier."
+
+_Lady's Pictorial_.--"Ladies who are anxious to give a practical
+present which not one of their soldier men-folk should disdain to
+accept would certainly find this acceptable."
+
+_Globe_.--"I advise every young officer, Regular or Terrier, to get
+'Quick Training for War' and study it.... It is a most sunny and
+stimulating book."
+
+_Sporting Chronicle_.--"Great interest is being taken in
+Baden-Powell's book 'Quick Training for War' which is enjoying a
+tremendous boom."
+
+_Daily Chronicle_.--"The volume is full of good things for every
+officer, N.C.O., and man in the British Territorial Forces, and rifle
+club."
+
+_Daily Telegraph_.--"This little handbook should be a companion of all
+officers and men now training or being trained for war."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR
+
+FIRST REVIEWS (_CONTINUED_).
+
+_Academy_.--"If books were sold on intrinsic value, Sir Robert
+Baden-Powell's little volume would be issued at a sovereign."
+
+_Sporting Life_.--"Should be studied by every man who is entering the
+service of his country or contemplates doing so."
+
+_Spectator_.--"In heartily commending General Baden-Powell's little
+book to the trainers of the New Army we should like," etc.
+
+_Athenćum_.--"Sir Robert's hundred pages teem with evidence of how
+common-sense helps."
+
+_Truth_.--"Will prove a valuable gift to those who have answered the
+appeal of the War Office."
+
+_Sunday Times_.--"The book should be in the knapsack of every recruit
+in the New Army."
+
+_Daily Express_.--"A copy ought to be in the pocket of every officer
+and man in the new armies."
+
+_Daily Sketch_.--"Every young officer, N.C.O. and private should have
+a copy."
+
+_Morning Post_.--"As instructive as it is interesting."
+
+_Saturday Review_.--"A manual of great good sense."
+
+_Daily Graphic_.--"It is concentrated wisdom."
+
+_Observer_.--"Clear and persuasive to a degree."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SIR JOHN FRENCH
+
+AN AUTHENTIC BIOGRAPHY BY CECIL CHISHOLM, M.A. WITH A PORTRAIT OF SIR
+JOHN FRENCH BY HIS SON, J.R.L. FRENCH. CR. 8VO. CLOTH. PRICE 1/- NET.
+POSTAGE 3D. EXTRA.
+
+"Capital."--_Globe_.
+
+"A very excellent character study."--_Daily News_.
+
+"An excellent little book."--_Westminster Gazette_.
+
+"An admirable story of the Field-Marshal's life."--_Academy_.
+
+"A book which everyone should read at the present moment."--_Field_.
+
+"A welcome and admirable little volume in every way."--_Observer_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ATKINS AT WAR
+
+AS TOLD IN HIS OWN LETTERS. BY J.A. KILPATRICK. WITH A COVER DESIGN BY
+SIR R. BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B. CLOTH. PRICE 1/- NET. POSTAGE 3D. EXTRA.
+
+"A human document."--_Globe_.
+
+"A human document."--_Graphic_.
+
+"Sure of a wide circulation."--_Nation_.
+
+"A veritable human document."--_Bookman_.
+
+"A capital little book."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+"A book that throbs with life."--_Daily Call_.
+
+"Mr. Kilpatrick has performed a public service."--_Evening Standard_.
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ARMY ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
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+
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+Title: The Amateur Army
+
+Author: Patrick MacGill
+
+Release Date: June 16, 2005 [EBook #16078]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ARMY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger,
+William Flis, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
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+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>THE AMATEUR ARMY</h1>
+
+<h2>BY PATRICK MACGILL</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h4>
+
+<h3>CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END</h3>
+
+<h3>THE RAT-PIT</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/frontis.jpg"><img width="100%" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="RIFLEMAN PATRICK MACGILL" /></a>RIFLEMAN PATRICK MACGILL</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE AMATEUR ARMY</h1>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h2>PATRICK MACGILL</h2>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4>
+
+<h3>"CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END"</h3>
+
+<h4>HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED<br />
+ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET <br />
+LONDON S.W. MCMXV</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<center><i>Wyman &amp; Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading.</i></center>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+
+
+<p>I am one of the million or more male
+residents of the United Kingdom, who a year ago had no special yearning
+towards military life, but who joined the
+army after war was declared. At Chelsea I
+found myself a unit of the 2nd London Irish
+Battalion, afterwards I was drilled into shape
+at the White City and training was concluded
+at St. Albans, where I was drafted into the
+1st Battalion. In my spare time I wrote
+several articles dealing with the life of the
+soldier from the stage of raw "rooky" to
+that of finished fighter. These I now publish
+in book form, and trust that they may interest
+men who have joined the colours or who
+intend to take up the profession of arms and
+become members of the great brotherhood of fighters.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Patrick MacGill.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"The London Irish,"</p>
+<p>British Expeditionary Force,</p>
+<p><i>March 25th</i>, 1915.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">                <b>PAGE</b></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER I</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I ENLIST AND AM BILLETED      <a href="#page13">13</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER II</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>RATIONS AND SICK PARADE      <a href="#page23">23</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER III</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>PICKETS AND SPECIAL LEAVE      <a href="#page36">36</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER IV</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>OFFICERS AND RIFLES      <a href="#page48">48</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER V</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>THE COFFEE-SHOP AND WANKIN      <a href="#page60">60</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER VI</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>THE NIGHT SIDE OF SOLDIERING      <a href="#page71">71</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER VII</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>DIVISIONAL EXERCISE AND MIMIC WARFARE      <a href="#page85">85</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER VIII</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>THE GENERAL INSPECTION AND THE EVERLASTING WAITING      <a href="#page99">99</a></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>CHAPTER IX</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>READY TO GO&mdash;THE BATTALION MOVES      <a href="#page111">111</a></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE AMATEUR ARMY</h1>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">I Enlist and am Billeted</h2>
+
+
+<p>What the psychological processes were
+that led to my enlisting in "Kitchener's Army" need not be
+inquired into. Few men could explain
+why they enlisted, and if they attempted
+they might only prove that they had
+done as a politician said the electorate
+does, the right thing from the wrong
+motive. There is a story told of an incident
+that occurred in Flanders, which shows
+clearly the view held in certain quarters.
+The Honourable Artillery Company were
+relieving some regulars in the trenches when
+the following dialogue ensued between a
+typical Tommy Atkins and an H.A.C. private:</p>
+
+<p>T.A.: "Oo are you?"</p>
+
+<p>H.A.C.: "We're the H.A.C."</p>
+
+<p>T.A.: "Gentlemen, ain't yer?"</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span>
+
+<p>H.A.C.: "Oh well, in a way I suppose&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>T.A.: "'Ow many are there of yer?"</p>
+
+<p>H.A.C.: "About eight hundred."</p>
+
+<p>T.A.: "An' they say yer volunteered!"</p>
+
+<p>H.A.C.: "Yes, we did."</p>
+
+<p>T.A.: (With conviction as he gathers
+together his kit). "Blimey, yer must be mad!"</p>
+
+<p>For curiosity's sake I asked some of
+my mates to give me their reasons for
+enlisting. One particular friend of mine, a
+good-humoured Cockney, grinned sheepishly
+as he replied confidentially, "Well, matey,
+I done it to get away from my old gal's
+jore&mdash;now you've got it!" Another recruit,
+a pale, intelligent youth, who knew Nietzsche
+by heart, glanced at me coldly as he
+answered, "I enlisted because I am an
+Englishman." Other replies were equally
+unilluminating and I desisted, remembering
+that the Germans despise us because we are devoid of military enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>The step once taken, however, we all
+set to work to discover how we might become
+soldiers with a minimum of exertion and
+inconvenience to ourselves. During the process
+I learned many things, among others
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span>
+that I was a unit in the most democratic
+army in history; where Oxford undergraduate
+and farm labourer, Cockney and peer's
+son lost their identity and their caste in
+a vast war machine. I learned that Tommy
+Atkins, no matter from what class he is
+recruited, is immortal, and that we British
+are one of the most military nations in the
+world. I have learned to love my new life,
+obey my officers, and depend upon my rifle;
+for I am Rifleman Patrick MacGill of the
+Irish Rifles, where rumour has it that the
+Colonel and I are the only two <i>real</i> Irishmen
+in the battalion. It should be remembered
+that a unit of a rifle regiment is known as
+rifleman, not private; we like the term
+rifleman, and feel justly indignant when a
+wrong appellation plays skittles with our rank.</p>
+
+<p>The earlier stages of our training took
+place at Chelsea and the White City, where
+untiring instructors strove to convince us
+that we were about the most futile lot of
+"rookies" that it had ever been their misfortune
+to encounter. It was not until we
+were unceremoniously dumped amidst the
+peaceful inhabitants of a city that slumbers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span>
+in the shadow of an ancient cathedral that I felt I was in reality a soldier.</p>
+
+<p>Here we were to learn that there is no
+novelty so great for the newly enlisted soldier
+as that of being billeted, in the process of
+which he finds himself left upon an unfamiliar door-step like somebody else's
+washing. He is the instrument by which
+the War Office disproves that "an Englishman's home is his castle." He has the
+law behind him; but nothing else&mdash;save his
+own capacity for making friends with his victims.</p>
+
+<p>If the equanimity of English householders
+who are about to have soldiers billeted upon
+them is a test of patriotism, there may well
+be some doubts about the patriotic spirit
+of the English middle class in the present
+crisis. The poor people welcome to their
+homes soldiers who in most cases belong to
+the same strata of society as themselves;
+and, besides, ninepence a night as billet-fee is not to be laughed at. The upper
+class can easily bear the momentary inconvenience of Tommy's company; the method
+of procedure of the very rich in regard to
+billeting seldom varies&mdash;a room, stripped of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span>
+all its furniture, fitted with beds and pictures,
+usually of a religious nature, is given up for
+the soldiers' benefit. The lady of the house,
+gifted with that familiar ease which the very
+rich can assume towards the poor at a pinch&mdash;especially
+a pinch like the present, when
+"all petty class differences are forgotten
+in the midst of the national crisis"&mdash;may
+come and talk to her guests now and again,
+tell them that they are fine fellows, and give
+them a treat to light up the heavy hours
+that follow a long day's drill in full marching
+order. But the middle class, aloof and
+austere in its own seclusion, limited in
+means and apartment space, cannot easily
+afford the time and care needed for the housing
+of soldiers. State commands cannot be
+gainsaid, however, and Tommy must be
+housed and fed in the country which he will
+shortly go out and defend in the trenches of France or Flanders.</p>
+
+<p>The number of men assigned to a house
+depends in a great measure on the discretion
+of the householder and the temper of the
+billeting officer. A gruff reply or a caustic
+remark from the former sometimes offends;
+often the officer is in a hurry, and at such
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span>
+a time disproportionate assortment is generally
+the result. A billeting officer has told
+me that fifty per cent. of the householders
+whom he has approached show manifest
+hostility to the housing of soldiers. But the
+military authorities have a way of dealing
+with these people. On one occasion an
+officer asked a citizen, an elderly man full
+of paunch and English dignity, how many
+soldiers could he keep in his house. "Well, it's like this&mdash;," the man began.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any room to spare here?" demanded the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"None, except on the mat," was the caustic answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Two on the mat, then," snapped the
+officer, and a pair of tittering Tommies were left at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Matronly English dignity suffered on
+another occasion when a sergeant inquired
+of a middle-aged woman as to the number
+of men she could billet in her house.</p>
+
+<p>"None," she replied. "I have no way of keeping soldiers."</p>
+
+<p>"What about that apartment there?"
+asked the N.C.O. pointing to the drawing-room.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span>
+
+<p>"But they'll destroy everything in the room," stammered the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Clear the room then."</p>
+
+<p>"But they'll have to pass through the hall
+to get in, and there are so many valuable things on the walls&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've got a large window in the drawing-room,"
+said the officer; "remove that, and
+the men will not have to pass through the hall.
+I'll let you off lightly, and leave only two."</p>
+
+<p>"But I cannot keep two."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll leave four," was the reply, and four were left.</p>
+
+<p>Sadder than this, even, was the plight
+of the lady and gentleman at St. Albans
+who told the officer that their four children
+were just recovering from an attack of
+whooping cough. The officer, being a wise
+man and anxious about the welfare of those
+under his care, fled precipitately. Later he
+learned that there had been no whooping
+cough in the house; in fact, the people who
+caused him to beat such a hasty retreat were
+childless. He felt annoyed and discomfited;
+but about a week following his first visit
+he called again at the house, this time followed by six men.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span>
+
+<p>"These fellows are just recovering from
+whooping cough," he told the householder;
+"they had it bad. We didn't know what
+to do with them, but, seeing that you've
+had whooping cough here, I feel it's the only
+place where it will be safe to billet them." And he left them there.</p>
+
+<p>But happenings like these were more
+frequent at the commencement of the war
+than now. Civilians, even those of the
+conventional middle class, are beginning to
+understand that single men in billets, to
+paraphrase Kipling slightly, are remarkably like themselves.</p>
+
+<p>With us, rations are served out daily at
+our billets; our landladies do the cooking,
+and mine, an adept at the culinary art, can
+transform a basin of flour and a lump of
+raw beef into a dish that would make an
+epicurean mouth water. Even though food
+is badly cooked in the billet, it has a superior
+flavour, which is never given it in the boilers
+controlled by the company cook. Army
+stew has rather a notorious reputation, as
+witness the inspired words of a regimental
+poet&mdash;one of the 1st Surrey Rifles&mdash;in a pćan of praise to his colonel:</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"Long may the colonel with us bide,</p>
+<p class="i2">His shadow ne'er grow thinner.</p>
+<p>(It would, though, if he ever tried</p>
+<p class="i2">Some Army stew for dinner.)"</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>Billeting has gained for the soldier many
+friends, and towns that have become accustomed
+to his presence look sadly forward
+to the day when he will leave them for the
+front, where no kind landlady will be at
+hand to transform raw beef and potatoes
+into beef pudding or potato pie. The working
+classes in particular view the future
+with misgiving. The bond of sympathy
+between soldier and workers is stronger than
+that between soldier and any other class of
+citizen. The houses and manners of the
+well-to-do daunt most Tommies. "In their
+houses we feel out of it somehow," they say.
+"There's nothin' we can talk about with
+the swells, and 'arf the time they be askin'
+us about things that's no concern of theirs at all."</p>
+
+<p>Most toilers who have no friends or relations
+preparing for war have kinsmen already
+in the trenches&mdash;or on the roll of honour.
+And feelings stronger than those of friendship
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span>
+now unite thousands of soldiers to the young
+girls of the houses in which they are billeted.
+For even in the modern age, that now seems
+to voice the ultimate expression of man's
+culture and advance in terrorism and destruction,
+love and war, vital as the passion of
+ancient story, go hand in hand up to the trenches and the threat of death.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">Rations and Sick Parade</h2>
+
+
+<p>It has been said that an army moves
+upon its stomach, and, as if in confirmation of this, the soldier is exhorted
+in an official pamphlet "Never to start on
+a march with an empty stomach." To a
+hungry rifleman the question of his rations
+is a matter of vital importance. For the
+first few weeks our food was cooked up and
+served out on the parade ground, or in the
+various gutter-fringed sheds standing in the
+vicinity of our headquarters. The men were
+discontented with the rations, and rumour
+had it that the troops stationed in a neighbouring
+village rioted and hundreds had been placed under arrest.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes a haunch of roast beef was doled
+out almost raw, and potatoes were generally
+boiled into pulp; these when served up
+looked like lumps of wet putty. Two potatoes,
+unwashed and embossed with particles
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span>
+of gravel, were allowed to each man; all
+could help themselves by sticking their
+fingers into the doughy substance and lifting
+out a handful, which they placed along with
+the raw "roast" on the lid of their mess-tin. This constituted dinner, but often
+rations were doled out so badly that several
+men only got half the necessary allowance for their meals.</p>
+
+<p>Tea was seldom sufficiently sweetened, and
+the men had to pay for milk. After a time
+we became accustomed to the Epsom Salts
+that a kindly War Office, solicitous for our
+well-being, caused to be added, and some of
+us may go to our graves insisting on Epsom
+Salts with tea. The feeding ground being
+in many cases a great distance from the fire,
+the tea was cold by the time it arrived at
+the men's quarters. Those who could afford
+it, took their food elsewhere: the restaurants
+in the vicinity did a roaring trade, and
+several new ones were opened. A petition
+was written; the men signed it, and decided
+to send it to the colonel; but the N.C.O.'s
+stepped in and destroyed the document.
+"You'll not do much good at the front," they
+told us, "if you are grumbling already."</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span>
+
+<p>A week followed the destruction of the
+petition, and then appeared the following
+in Battalion Orders: "From to-morrow
+until further orders, rations will be issued
+at the men's billets." This announcement
+caused no little sensation, aroused a great
+deal of comment, and created a profound feeling
+of satisfaction in the battalion. Thenceforth
+rations were served out at the billets,
+and the householders were ordered to do the
+cooking. My landlady was delighted. "Not
+half feeding you; that's a game," she
+said. "And you going to fight for your
+country! But wait till you see the dishes
+I'll make out of the rations when they come."</p>
+
+<p>The rations came. In the early morning
+a barrow piled with eatables was dragged
+through our street, and the "ration fatigue"
+party, full of the novelty of a new job,
+yelled in chorus, "Bring out your dead, ladies; rations are 'ere!"</p>
+
+<p>"What have you got?" asked my landlady, going to the door. "What are you
+supposed to leave for the men? Nothing's
+too good for them that's going to fight for their country."</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span>
+
+<p>"Dead rats," said the ration-corporal with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be funny. What are my men to get?"</p>
+
+<p>"Each man a pound of fresh meat, one and
+a half pounds of bread, two taters, two ounces
+of sugar, and an ounce of tea and three
+ounces of cheese. And, besides this, every
+feller gets a tin of jam once in four days."</p>
+
+<p>This looks well on paper, but pot and
+plate make a difference in the proposition.
+Army cheese runs to rind rapidly, and a
+pound of beef is often easily bitten to the
+bone: sometimes, in fact, it is all bone and
+gristle, and the ravages of cooking minimise
+its bulk in a disheartening way. One and a
+half pound of bread is more than the third
+of a big loaf, but minus butter it makes a
+featureless repast. Breakfast and tea without
+butter and milk does not always make a dainty meal.</p>
+
+<p>Even the distribution of rations leaves
+much to be desired; the fatigue party,
+well-intentioned and sympathetic though it
+be, often finds itself short of provisions.
+This may in many cases be due to unequal
+distribution; an ounce of beef too much to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span>
+each of sixteen men leaves the seventeenth
+short of meat. This may easily happen, as
+the ration party has never any means of
+weighing the food: it is nearly always served
+out by guesswork. But sometimes the landladies
+help in the distribution by bringing
+out scales and weighing the provisions. One
+lady in our street always weighed the men's
+rations, and saw that those under her care
+got the exact allowance. Never would she
+take any more than her due, and never less.
+But a few days ago, when weighing sugar
+and tea, a blast of wind upset the scales,
+and a second allowance met with a similar
+fate. Sugar and tea littered the pavement,
+and finally the woman supplied her soldiers
+from the household stores. She now leaves
+the work of distribution in the hands of the
+ration party, and takes what is given to her without grumbling.</p>
+
+<p>The soldiers' last meal is generally served
+out about five o'clock in the afternoon,
+sometimes earlier; and a stretch of fourteen
+hours intervenes between then and breakfast.
+About nine o'clock in the evening those who
+cannot afford to pay for extras feel their
+waist-belts slacken, and go supperless to bed.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span>
+And tea is not a very substantial meal; the
+rations served out for the day have decreased
+in bulk, bread has wasted to microscopic proportions, and the cheese has
+diminished sadly in size. A regimental song,
+pent with soldierly woes, bitterly bemoans the drawbacks of Tommy's tea:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"Bread and cheese for breakfast,</p>
+<p class="i2">For dinner Army stew,</p>
+<p>But when it comes to tea-time</p>
+<p class="i2">There's dough and rind for you,</p>
+<p class="i6">So you and me</p>
+<p class="i6">Won't wait for tea&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">We're jolly big fools if we do."</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>But those who do not live in billets, and
+whose worldly wealth fails to exceed a shilling
+a day, must be content with Army rations,
+with the tea tasting of coom, and seldom
+sweetened, with the pebble-studded putty
+potato coated in clay, with the cheese that
+runs to rind at last parade, and, above all,
+with the knowledge that they are merely
+inconvenienced at home so that they may endure the better abroad.</p>
+
+<p>There is another school of theorists that
+states that an army moves, not upon its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span>
+stomach, but upon its feet, the care of which
+is of vital importance. This, too, finds confirmation
+in the official pamphlet, which
+tells the soldier to "Remember that a dirty
+foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are
+washed if no other part of the body is," etc.</p>
+
+<p>My right foot had troubled me for days;
+a pain settled in the arch of the instep, and
+caused me intense agony when resuming
+the march after a short halt; at night I
+would suddenly awake from sleep to experience
+the sensation of being stabbed by innumerable pins in ankle and toes. Marching
+in future, I felt, would be a monstrous futility,
+and I decided that my case was one for the medical officer.</p>
+
+<p>Sick parade is not restricted by any dress
+order; the sore-footed may wear slippers;
+the sore-headed, Balaclava helmets; puttees
+can be discarded; mufflers and comforters may be used. "The sick rabble" is
+the name given by the men to the
+crowd that waits outside the door of the
+M.O.'s room at eight in the morning. And
+every morning brings its quota of ailing
+soldiers; some seriously ill, some slightly,
+and a few (as may be expected out of a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span>
+thousand men of all sorts and conditions)
+who have imaginary or feigned diseases that
+will so often save "slackers" from a hard
+day's marching. The aim and ambition of
+these latter seem to be to do as little hard
+work as possible; some of them attend
+sick parade on an average once a week,
+and generally obtain exemption from a day's
+work. To obtain this they resort to several
+ruses; headaches and rheumatic pains are
+difficult to detect, and the doctor must depend
+on the private's word; a quick pulse and
+heightened temperature is engendered by a
+brisk run, and this is often a means towards
+a favourable medical verdict&mdash;that is, when
+"favourable" means a suspension of duties.</p>
+
+<p>At a quarter to eight I stood with ten
+others in front of the M.O.'s door, on which
+a white card with the blue-lettered "No
+Smoking" stood out in bold relief. The
+morning was bitterly cold, and a sharp,
+penetrating wind splashed with rain swept
+round our ears, and chilled our hands and
+faces. One of the waiting queue had a sharp
+cough and spat blood; all this was due,
+he told us, to a day's divisional field exercise,
+when he had to lie for hours on the wet
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span>
+ground firing "blanks" at a "dummy"
+enemy. Another sick soldier, a youth of
+nineteen, straight as a lance and lithe as a
+poplar, suffered from ulcer in the throat.
+"I had the same thing before," he remarked
+in a thin, hoarse voice, "but I got over it
+somehow. This time it'll maybe the hospital. I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>An orderly corporal filled in admission
+forms and handed them to us; each form
+containing the sick man's regimental number,
+name, religion, age, and length of military
+service, in addition to several other minor
+details having no reference at all to the
+matter in hand. These forms were again
+handed over to another orderly corporal,
+who stood smoking a cigarette under the
+blue-lettered notice pinned to the door.</p>
+
+<p>The boy with the sore throat was sitting
+in a chair in the room when I entered, the
+doctor bending over him. "Would you like
+a holiday?" the M.O. asked in a kindly voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"A couple of days in hospital would leave
+you all right, my man," the M.O. continued, "and it would be a splendid rest."</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span>
+
+<p>"I don't want a rest," answered the youth.
+"Maybe I'll be better in the morning, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor thought for a moment, then:</p>
+
+<p>"All right, report to-morrow again," he
+said. "You're a brave boy. Some, who are
+not the least ill, whine till one is sick&mdash;what's the matter with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sore foot, sir," I said, seeing the M.O.'s eyes fixed on me.</p>
+
+<p>"Off with your boot, then."</p>
+
+<p>I took off my boot, placed my foot on a chair, and had it inspected.</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir. It pains me when marching, and sometimes&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever heard that Napoleon said an army marches on its stomach?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, when the feet of the army is all right," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true," he replied. "No doubt
+you've sprained one of yours; just wash it
+well in warm water, rub it well, and have a
+day or two resting. That will leave you all right. Your boots are good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"They don't pinch or&mdash;what's wrong with
+you?" He was speaking to the next man.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know? You don't know why
+you're here. What brought you here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rheumatic pains, I think, sir," was the
+answer. "Last night I 'ad an orful night.
+Couldn't sleep. I think it was the wet as
+done it. Lyin' out on the grass last field day&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How many times have you been here before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, the last time was when&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How many times?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it rheumatic pains last time?"</p>
+
+<p>"No sir, it was jaw-ache&mdash;toothache, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll put you on light duties for the day,"
+said the M.O. And the rheumatic one and I went out together.</p>
+
+<p>"That's wot they do to a man that's sick,"
+said the rheumatic one when we got outside.
+"Me that couldn't sleep last night, and now
+it's light duties. I know what light duties
+are. You are to go into the orderly room
+and wash all the dishes: then you go and
+run messages, then you 'old the orficer's
+horse and then maybe when you're worryin'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span>
+your own bit of grub they come and bundle
+you out to sweep up the orficers' mess, or run
+an errand for the 'ead cook and bottle-washer. Light duties ain't arf a job. I'm
+blowed if marchin' in full kit ain't ten times
+better, and I'm going to grease to the battalion parade."</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later I met him leaving
+his billet, his haversack on the wrong side,
+his cartridge pouches open, the bolt of his
+gun unfastened; his whole general appearance
+was a discredit to his battalion and a
+disgrace to the Army. I helped to make
+him presentable as he bellowed his woes into
+my ear. "No bloomin' grub this mornin',"
+he said. "Left my breakfast till I'd come
+back, and 'aven't no time for it now. Anyway
+I'm going out on the march; no light
+duties for me. I know what they are."
+He was still protesting against the hardships
+of things as he swung out of sight round the
+corner of the street. Afterwards I heard that
+he got three days C.B. for disobeying the orders of the M.O.</p>
+
+<p>Save for minor ailments and accident, my
+battalion is practically immune from sickness; colds come and go as a matter of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span>
+course, sprains and cuts claim momentary
+attention, but otherwise the health of the
+battalion is perfect. "We're too healthy
+to be out of the trenches," a company
+humorist has remarked, and the company and battalion agrees with him.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">Pickets and Special Leave</h2>
+
+
+<p>One of the first things we had to learn
+was that our ancient cathedral town has its bounds and limits for the
+legions of the lads in khaki. Beyond a
+certain line, the two-mile boundary, we dare
+not venture alone without written permission,
+and we can only pass the limit in a
+body when led by a commissioned officer.</p>
+
+<p>The whole world, with the exception of
+the space enclosed by this narrow circle, is
+closed to the footsteps of Tommy; he cannot
+now visit his sweetheart, his sweetheart
+must come and visit him. The housemaid
+from Hammersmith and the typist from
+Tottenham have to come to their beaux in
+billets, and as most of the men in our town
+are single, and nearly all have sweethearts,
+it is estimated that five or six thousand
+maidens blush to hear the old, old story
+within the two-mile limit every week-end.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span>
+
+<p>Once only every month is a soldier allowed
+week-end leave, and then he has permission
+to be absent from his billet between the
+hours of 3 p.m. on Saturday and 10 p.m.
+on Sunday. His pass states that during this
+time he is not liable to be arrested for desertion.
+Some men use one pass for quite a
+long period, and alter the dates to suit every occasion.</p>
+
+<p>One Sunday, when returning from week-end
+leave, I travelled from London by train.
+My compartment was crowded with men of
+my division, and only one-half of these had
+true passes; one, who was an adept calligraphist, wrote his own pass, and made a
+counterfeit signature of the superior who
+should have signed the form of leave.
+Another had altered the dates of an early
+pass so cleverly that it was difficult to
+detect the erasure, and a number of men
+had no passes whatsoever. These boasted
+of having travelled to London every week-end,
+and they had never been caught napping.</p>
+
+<p>Passes were generally inspected at the
+station preceding the one to which we were
+bound. My travelling companions were well
+aware of this, and made preparations to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span>
+combat the difficulty in front; two crawled
+under the seats, and two more went up
+on the racks, where they lay quiet as mice,
+stretched out at full length and covered
+over with several khaki overcoats. One
+man, a brisk Cockney, who would not deign
+to roost or crawl, took up his position as
+far away as possible from the platform window.</p>
+
+<p>"Grease the paper along as quick as
+you know 'ow and keep the picket jorin'
+till I'm safe," he remarked as the train
+stopped and a figure in khaki fumbled with the door handle.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind me lookin' at passes,
+mateys?" demanded the picket, entering
+the compartment. The man by the door
+produced his pass, the one he had written
+and signed himself; and when it passed
+inspection he slyly slipped it behind the
+back of the man next him, and in the space
+of three seconds the brisk Cockney had the
+forged permit of leave to show to the inspector.
+The men under the seat and on the racks were not detected.</p>
+
+<p>Every station in our town and its vicinity
+has a cordon of pickets, the Sunday farewell
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span>
+kisses of sweethearts are never witnessed
+by the platform porter, as the lovers in
+khaki are never allowed to see their loves
+off by train, and week-end adieux always
+take place at the station entrance. Some
+time ago the pickets allowed the men to
+see their sweethearts off, but as many youths
+abused the privilege and took train to London
+when they got on the platform, these
+kind actions have now become merely a pleasing memory.</p>
+
+<p>Pickets seem to crop up everywhere;
+on one bus ride to London, a journey of
+twenty miles, I have been asked to show
+my pass three times, and on a return journey by train I have had to produce the
+written permit on five occasions. But some
+units of our divisions soar above these petty
+inconveniences, as do two brothers who
+motor home every Sunday when church parade comes to an end.</p>
+
+<p>When these two leave church after divine
+service, a car waits them at the nearest
+street corner, and they slip into it, don
+trilby hats and civilian overcoats, and sweep
+outside the restricted area at a haste that
+causes the slow-witted country policeman
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span>
+to puzzle over the speed of the car and
+forget its number while groping for his pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>It has always been a pleasure to me to
+follow for hours the winding country roads
+looking out for fresh scenes and new adventures.
+The life of the roadside dwellers,
+the folk who live in little stone houses and
+show two flower-pots and a birdcage in
+their windows, has a strange fascination
+for me. When I took up my abode here
+and got my first free Sunday afternoon,
+I shook military discipline aside for a moment and set out on one of my rambles.</p>
+
+<p>There comes a moment on a journey when
+something sweet, something irresistible and
+charming as wine raised to thirsty lips,
+wells up in the traveller's being. I have
+never striven to analyse this feeling or
+study the moment when it comes, and
+that feeling has been often mine. Now I
+know the moment it floods the soul of
+the traveller. It is at the end of the second
+mile, when the limbs warm to their work
+and the lungs fill with the fresh country air. At such a moment, when a man
+naturally forgets restraint to which he has
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span>
+only been accustomed for a short while,
+I met the picket for the first time. He
+told me to turn&mdash;and I went back. But
+it was not in my heart to like that picket,
+and I shall never like him while he stands
+there, sentry of the two-mile limit; an
+ogre denying me entrance into the wide world that lies beyond.</p>
+
+<p>There is one thing, however, before which
+the picket is impotent&mdash;a pass. It is like
+a free pardon to a convict; it opens to him
+the whole world&mdash;that is for the period
+it covers. The two most difficult things
+in military life are to obtain permit of absence
+from billets, and the struggle against
+the natural impulse to overstay the limit
+of leave. There are times when soldiers
+experience an intense longing to see their
+own homes, firesides, and friends, and in
+moments like these it takes a stiff fight
+to overcome the desire to go away, if only
+for a little while, to their native haunts.
+Only once in five weeks may a man obtain
+a week-end pass&mdash;if he is lucky. To the
+soldier, luck is merely another word for skill.</p>
+
+<p>With us, the rifleman who scores six successive "bulls" at six hundred yards on
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span>
+the open range has been lucky; if he speaks
+nicely to the quartermaster and obtains
+the best pair of boots in the stores, he has
+been lucky; if by mistake he is given double
+rations by the fatigue party he is lucky;
+but if the same man, sweating over his
+rifle in a carnival of "wash-outs," or, weary
+of blistered feet and empty stomach, asks
+for sympathy because his rifle was sighted
+too low or because he lost his dinner while
+waiting on boot-parade, we explain that
+his woes are due to a caper of chance&mdash;that he has been unlucky. To obtain a
+pass at any time a man must be lucky;
+obtaining one when he desires it most is a
+thing heard of now and again, and getting
+a pass and not being able to use it is of
+common occurrence. Now, when I applied
+for special leave I was more than a little lucky.</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary that I should attend
+to business in London, and I set about
+making application for a permit of leave.
+I intended to apply for a pass dating from
+6 p.m. of a Friday evening to 10 p.m. of the
+following Sunday. On Wednesday morning
+I spoke to a corporal of my company.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span>
+
+<p>"If you want leave, see the platoon
+sergeant," he told me. The platoon sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke
+harshly when I approached him. "No business of mine!" he said; "the company
+clerk will look into the matter."</p>
+
+<p>But I had no success with the company
+clerk; the leave which I desired was a
+special one, and that did not come under
+his jurisdiction. "The orderly sergeant
+knows more about this business than I do. Go to him about it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>By Wednesday evening I spoke to the
+orderly sergeant, who looked puzzled for
+a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said. "He'll know more about
+this matter than I do, and he'll see into
+it. But it will be difficult to get special
+leave, you know; they don't like to give it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he repeated; "what the devil
+does it matter to you? You're paid here
+to do what you're told, not to ask questions."</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant was courteous and civil.
+"I can't do anything in the matter," he
+said. "The orderly sergeant will take you
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span>
+to the company officer, Captain &mdash;&mdash;, and he'll maybe do something for you."</p>
+
+<p>"If you're lucky," said the sergeant in
+a low whisper. About eight o'clock in the
+evening I paraded in the long, dimly-lighted
+passage that leads to our company orderly-room,
+and there I had to wait two hours
+while the captain was conducting affairs
+of some kind or another inside. When the door was opened I was ordered inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick march! Left turn! Halt!"
+ordered the sergeant as I crossed the threshold,
+and presently I found myself face
+to face with our company commander, who
+was sitting by a desk with a pile of papers before him.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked, fixing a pair
+of stern eyes on me, and I explained my
+business with all possible despatch.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you understand that everything
+is now subservient to your military
+duties; they take premier place in your
+new life," said the officer. "But I'll see
+what I can do. By myself I am of little
+help. However, you can write out a pass
+telling the length of time you require off
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span>
+duty, and I'll lay it before the proper authorities."</p>
+
+<p>I wrote out the "special pass," which ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"Rifleman &mdash;&mdash; has permission to be
+absent from his quarters from 6 p.m. (date)
+to 10 p.m. (date), for the purpose of proceeding to London."</p>
+
+<p>I came in from a long march on Thursday
+evening to find the pass signed, stamped,
+and ready. On the following night I could
+go to London, and I spent the evening
+'phoning, wiring, and writing to town, arranging
+matters for the day ahead. Also,
+I asked some friends to have dinner with
+me at seven o'clock on Friday night.</p>
+
+<p>Next day we had divisional exercise,
+which is usually a lengthy affair. In the
+morning I approached the officer and asked
+if I might be allowed off parade, seeing
+I had to set out for London at six o'clock in the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! we shall be back early," I was
+told, "back about three or thereabouts."</p>
+
+<p>The day was very interesting; the whole
+division, thousands of men, numberless
+horses, a regiment of artillery, and all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span>
+baggage and munition for military use took
+up position in battle formation. In front
+lay an imaginary army, and we had to
+cross a river to come into contact with it.
+Engineers, under cover of the artillery,
+built pontoon bridges for our crossing; on
+the whole an intensely interesting and novel
+experience. So interesting indeed that I
+lost all count of time, and only came to
+consciousness of the clock and remembrance
+of friends making ready for dinner when
+some one remarked that the hour of four
+had passed, and that we were still five miles from home.</p>
+
+<p>I got to my billet at six; there I flung
+off my pack, threw down my rifle, and in
+frenzied haste consulted a railway timetable. A slow train was due to leave our
+town at five minutes to seven. I arranged
+my papers, made a brief review of matters
+which would come before me later, and
+with muddy boots and heavy heart I arrived
+at the station at seven minutes to seven
+and took the slow train for London.</p>
+
+<p>When I told the story of my adventures
+at dinner a soldier friend remarked: "You've
+been more than a little lucky in getting
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span>
+away at all. I was very unlucky when I applied&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But his story was a long one, and I have forgotten it.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">Officers and Rifles</h2>
+
+
+<p>As I have said, I have learned among
+other things to obey my officers and depend upon my rifle. At first the
+junior officers appeared to me only as immaculate
+young men in tailor-made tunics
+and well-creased trousers, wearing swords
+and wrist-watches, and full of a healthy
+belief in their own importance. My mates
+are apt to consider them as being somewhat
+vain, and no Tommy dares fail to salute
+the young commissioned officers when he
+meets them out with their young ladies on
+the public streets. For myself, I have a
+great respect for them and their work;
+day and night they are at their toil; when
+parade comes to an end, and the battalion
+is dismissed for the day, the officers, who
+have done ten or twelve hours' of field exercise,
+turn to their desks and company accounts, and time and again the Last Post
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span>
+sees them busy over ledgers, pamphlets, and plans.</p>
+
+<p>Accurate and precise in every detail, they
+know the outs and ins of platoon and company
+drill, and can handle scores and hundreds
+of men with the ease and despatch of
+artists born to their work. Where have
+these officers, fresh youngsters with budding
+moustaches and white, delicate hands, learned
+all about frontage, file, flank, and formation,
+alignment, echelon, incline, and interval?
+Words of direction and command come so
+readily from their lips that I was almost
+tempted to believe that they had learned
+as easily as they taught, that their skill in
+giving orders could only be equalled by the
+ease with which I supposed they had mastered the details of their work. Later I
+came to know of the difficulty that confronts
+the young men, raw from the Officers'
+Training Corps, when they take up their
+preliminary duties as commanders of trained
+soldiers. No "rooky" fresh to the ranks
+is the butt of so many jokes and such biting
+sarcasm as the young officer is subjected to
+when he takes his place as a leader of men.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after my arrival in our town a score
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span>
+of young lieutenants came to our parade
+ground, accompanied by two commanders,
+a keen-eyed adjutant, brisk as a bell, and
+a white-haired colonel with very thin legs,
+and putties which seemed to have been
+glued on to his shins. The young gentlemen
+were destined for various regiments, and
+most of them were fresh and spotless in their
+new uniforms. Some wore Glengarry bonnets,
+kilts, and sporrans, some the black
+ribbons of Wales; one, whose hat-badge
+proclaimed the Dublin Fusilier, was conspicuous
+by the eyeglass he wore, and others
+were still arrayed in civilian garb, the uniform
+of city and office life. Several units of my
+battalion were taken off to drill in company
+with the strange officers. I was one of the chosen.</p>
+
+<p>The young men took us in hand, acting
+in turn as corporals, platoon sergeants, and
+company commanders. The gentleman with
+the eyeglass had charge of my platoon, and
+from the start he cast surreptitious glances
+at a little red brochure which he held in his
+hand, and mumbled words as if trying to commit something to memory.</p>
+
+<p>"Get to your places," the adjutant yelled
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span>
+to the officers. "Hurry up! Don't stand
+there gaping as if you're going to snap at
+flies. We've got to do some work. There's
+no hay for those who don't work. Come on,
+Weary, and drill your men; you with the
+eyeglass, I mean! I want you to put the
+company through some close column movements."</p>
+
+<p>The man with the eyeglass took up his
+position, and issued some order, but his
+voice was so low that the men nearest him could not hear the command.</p>
+
+<p>"Shout!" yelled the adjutant. "Don't
+mumble like a flapper who has just got her
+first kiss. It's not allowed on parade."</p>
+
+<p>The order was repeated, and the voice raised a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant.
+Then with fine irony: "These men are
+very interested in what you've got to tell them.... I don't think."</p>
+
+<p>Eyeglass essayed another attempt, but
+stopped in the midst of his words, frozen
+into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant.</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, try and speak up,"
+the adjutant said. "If you don't talk like
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span>
+a man, these fellows won't salute you when
+they meet you in the street with your young
+lady. On second thoughts, you had better
+go back and take up the job of platoon
+sergeant. Come on, Glengarry, and try and trumpet an order."</p>
+
+<p>Glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a
+sturdy youth with sloping shoulders, took up his post nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"A close column forming column of fours,"
+he cried in a shrill treble, quoting the cautionary
+part of his command. "Advance
+in fours from the right; form fours&mdash;right!"</p>
+
+<p>"Form fours&mdash;where?" roared the adjutant.</p>
+
+<p>"Left," came the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Left, your grandmother! You were
+right at first. Did you not know that you
+were right?... Where's Eyeglass, the
+platoon sergeant, now? Who's pinched him?"</p>
+
+<p>This unfortunate officer had dropped his
+eyeglass, and was now groping for it on the
+muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search.</p>
+
+<p>Other officers took up the job of company
+commander in turn, and all suffered. One,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span>
+who was a dapper little fellow, speedily
+earned the nickname of "Tailor's Dummy;"
+another, when giving a platoon the wrong
+direction in dressing, was told to be careful,
+and not shove the regiment over. A third,
+a Welshman, with the black ribbons, got
+angry with a section for some slight mistake
+made by two of its number, and was told
+to be careful and not annoy the men. He had only got them on appro'.</p>
+
+<p>Spick and span in their new uniforms,
+they came to drill daily on our parade
+ground. Slowly the change took place.
+They were "rookies" no longer, and the
+adjutant's sarcasm was a thing of the past.
+Commands were pronounced distinctly and
+firmly; the officers were trained men, ready
+to lead a company of soldiers anywhere and to do anything.</p>
+
+<p>No man who has trained with the new
+armies can be lacking in respect for the
+indefatigable N.C.O., upon whom the brunt
+of the work has fallen. With picturesque
+scorn and sarcasm he has formed huge
+armies out of the rawest of raw material,
+and all in a space of less than half a year.
+His methods are sometimes strange and his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span>
+temper short; yet he achieves his end in
+the shortest time possible. He is for ever
+correcting the same mistakes and rebuking
+the same stupidity, and the wonder is, not
+that he loses his temper, but that he should
+ever be able to preserve it. He understands
+men, and approaches them in an idiom that
+is likely to produce the best results.</p>
+
+<p>"Every man of you has friends of some
+sort," said the musketry instructor, as we
+formed up in front of him on the parade
+ground, gripping with nervous eagerness the
+rifles which had just been served out from
+the quartermaster's stores. We were recruits, raw "rookies," green to the grind,
+and chafing under discipline. "And some
+sort of friends it would be as well as if you
+never met them," the instructor continued.
+"They'd play you false the minute they'd
+get your back turned. But you've a friend
+now that will always stand by you and
+play you fair. Just give him a chance,
+and he'll maybe see you out of many a tight
+corner. Now, who is this friend I'm talking
+about?" he asked, turning to a youth who
+was leaning on his rifle. "Come, Weary, and tell me."</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span>
+
+<p>"The rifle," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"The crutch?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the rifle."</p>
+
+<p>"I see that, boy, I see that! But, damn
+it, don't make a crutch of it. You're a
+soldier now, my man, and not a crippled one yet."</p>
+
+<p>Thus was the rifle introduced to us. We
+had long waited for its coming, and dreamt
+of cross-guns, the insignia of a crack shot's
+proficiency, while we waited. And with the
+rifle came romance, and the element of responsibility.
+We were henceforward fighting
+men, numbered units, it was true, with
+numbered weapons, but for all that, fighters&mdash;men
+trained to the trade and licensed to the profession.</p>
+
+<p>Our new friend was rather a troublesome
+individual to begin with. In rising to the
+slope he had the trick of breaking free and
+falling on the muddy barrack square. A
+muddy rifle gets rusty, and brings its owner
+into trouble, and a severe penalty is considered meet for the man who comes on
+parade with a rusty rifle. Bringing the
+friend from the slope to the order was a
+difficult process for us recruits at the start
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span>
+the back-sight tore at the fingers, and bleeding
+hands often testified to the unnatural
+instinct of the rebellious weapon. But the
+unkindest kick of all was given when the
+slack novice fired the first shot, and the heel
+of the butt slipped upwards and struck the
+jaw. Then was learnt the first real lesson.
+The rifle kicks with the heel and aims for
+the jaw. Control your friend, humour him;
+keep him well in hand and beware his fling.</p>
+
+<p>I was unlucky in my first rifle practice
+on the miniature range, and out of my first
+five shots I did not hit the target once. The
+instructor lay by my side on the waterproof
+ground-sheet (the day was a wet one,
+and the range was muddy) and lectured me
+between misses on the peculiarities of my
+weapon and the cultivation of a steady eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep the beggar under control," he
+said. "You've got to coax him, and not
+use force. Pull the trigger easily, as though
+you loved it, and hold the butt affectionate-like
+against the shoulder. It's an easy
+matter to shoot as you're shooting now.
+There's shooting and shooting, and you've got
+to shoot straight. If you don't you're no
+dashed good! Give me the rifle, you're
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span>
+not aiming at the bull, man, you're aiming
+at the locality where the bull is grazing."</p>
+
+<p>He took my rifle, slid a cartridge into the
+breech, and coaxed the trigger lovingly towards
+him. Three times he fired, then we
+went together to look at the target. Not a
+bullet fired by him had struck it. The
+instructor glared down the barrel of the
+gun, made some nasty remarks about deflection,
+and went back to yell at an orderly corporal.</p>
+
+<p>"What the dickens did you take this
+here for?" he cried. "It's a blooming
+wash-out,<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> and was never any good. Old
+as an unpaid bill and worn bell-mouth it is, and nobody can fire with it."</p>
+
+<p>On a new rifle being obtained I passed
+the preliminary test, and a rather repentant
+instructor remarked that it might be possible to make a soldier of me some day.</p>
+
+<p>Since then my fellow-soldiers and I have
+had almost unlimited rifle practice, on miniature
+and open ranges, at bull and disappearing
+targets, in field firing at distances from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span>
+100 to 600 yards. On a field exceeding
+600 yards it is almost impossible to hit a point
+the size of an ordinary bull; fire then must
+be directed towards a position. Field or
+volley firing is very interesting. Once my
+company took train to Dunstable and advanced
+on an imaginary enemy that occupied
+the wastes of the Chiltern Hills. Practice
+commenced by firing at little squares of
+iron standing upright in a row about 200
+yards off in front of our line. These represented
+heads and shoulders of men rising
+over the trenches to take aim at us as we
+advanced. In extended order we came to
+our position, 200 yards distant from the front
+trenches. At the sound of the officer's
+whistle, we sank to the ground, facing our
+front, fixed our sights, and loaded. A second
+whistle was blown; we fired "three rounds
+rapid" at the foe. The aiming was very
+accurate; little spurts of earth danced up
+and around the targets, and every iron
+disc fell. The "searching ground," the
+locality struck by bullets, scarcely measured
+a dozen paces from front to rear, thus
+showing that there was very little erratic firing.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span>
+
+<p>"That's some shooting!" my Jersey friend
+remarked. "If the discs were Germans!"</p>
+
+<p>"They might shoot back," someone said,
+"and then we mightn't take as cool an aim."</p>
+
+<p>We are trained to the rifle; it is always
+with us, on parade, on march, on bivouac,
+and recently, when going through a dental
+examination, we carried our weapons of war
+into the medical officer's room. As befits
+units of a rifle regiment, we have got accustomed
+to our gun, and now, as fully trained
+men, we have established the necessary unity
+between hand and eye, and can load and
+unload our weapon with butt-plate stiff to
+shoulder and eye steady on target while the
+operation is in progress. In fact, our rifle
+comes to hand as easy as a walking-stick.
+We shall be sorry to lose it when the war is
+over, and no doubt we shall feel lonely without it.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1: </b><a href="#footnotetag1">(return) </a><p>"Wash-out" is a term used by the men when
+their firing is so wide of the mark that it fails to hit
+any spot on the card. The men apply it indiscriminately
+to anything in the nature of a failure.</p></blockquote>
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">The Coffee-Shop and Wankin</h2>
+
+
+<p>What the pump is to the villager,
+so the coffee-shop is to the soldier of the New Army. Here the men
+crowd nightly and live over again the incidents
+of the day. Our particular coffee-shop
+is situated in our corner of the town;
+our men patronise it; there are three assistants,
+plump, merry girls, and three of our
+men have fallen in love with them; in short,
+it is our very own restaurant, opened when
+we came here, and adapted to our needs;
+the waitresses wear our hat-badges, sing our
+songs, and make us welcome when we cross
+the door to take up our usual chairs and
+yarn over the cosy tables. The Jersey
+youth with the blue eyes, the Oxford man,
+who speaks of things that humble waitresses
+do not understand, the company drummer,
+the platoon sergeants, and the Cockney
+who vows that water is spoilt in making
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span>
+every cup of coffee he drinks, all come here, and all love the place.</p>
+
+<p>I have come to like the place and do
+most of my writing there, catching snatches
+of conversation and reminiscence as they float across to me.</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't meanin' to 'urt ole Ginger
+Nobby nohow, but the muck I throwed took
+'im dead on the jor. 'Wot's yer gime?'
+'e 'ollers at me. 'Wot's my gime?' I says
+back to 'im. 'Nuffin', if ye want ter know!'
+I says. 'I was just shyin' at squidges.'"</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke the bright-eyed Cockney at
+the table next me, gazing regretfully at his
+empty coffee-cup and cutting away a fringe
+of rag-nails from his finger with a clasp-knife.
+The time was eight o'clock of the
+evening, and the youth was recounting an
+adventure which he had had in the morning
+when throwing mud at sparrows on the
+parade ground. A lump of clay had struck
+a red-haired non-commissioned officer on the
+jaw, and the officer became angry. The
+above was the Cockney version of the story.
+One of my friends, an army unit with the
+Oxford drawl, was voluble on another subject.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span>
+
+<p>"Russian writers have had a great effect on
+our literature," he said, deep in a favourite
+topic. "They have stripped bare the soul
+of man with a realism that shrivels up our
+civilisation and proves&mdash;Two coffees, please."</p>
+
+<p>A tall, well-set waitress, with several
+rings on her fingers, took the order as gravely
+as if she were performing some religious
+function; then she turned to the Cockney.</p>
+
+<p>"Cup of cawfee, birdie!" he cried, leaning
+over the table and trying to grip her hand.
+"Not like the last, mind; it was good
+water spoilt. I'll never come in 'ere again."</p>
+
+<p>"So you say!" said the girl, moving
+out of his way and laughing loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Strike me balmy if I do!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where'll yer go then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Round the corner, of course," was the
+answer. "There's another bird there&mdash;and
+cawfee! It's some stuff too, not like 'ere."</p>
+
+<p>"All right; don't come in again if yer don't want ter."</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney got his second cup of coffee
+and pronounced it inferior to the first;
+then looked at an evening paper which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span>
+Oxford handed to him, and studied a photograph
+of a battleship on the front page.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't stand these 'ere papers," he said,
+after a moment, as he got to his feet and
+lit a cigarette. "Nuffink but war in them
+always; I'm sick readin' about war! I
+saw your bit in one a couple of nights ago," he said, turning to me.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you think of it?" I asked,
+anxious to hear his opinion on an article
+dealing with the life of his own regiment.</p>
+
+<p>"Nuffink much," he answered, honestly
+and frankly. "Everything you say is about
+things we all know; who wants to 'ear
+about them? D'ye get paid for writin' that?"</p>
+
+<p>One of his mates, a youth named Bill,
+who came in at that moment, overheard the remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Paid! Of course 'e gets paid," said
+the newcomer. "Bet you he gets 'arf a
+crown for every time 'e writes for the paper."</p>
+
+<p>All sorts and conditions of soldiers drift
+into the place and discuss various matters
+over coffee and mince pies; they are men
+of all classes, who had been as far apart
+as the poles in civil life, and are now knit
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span>
+together in the common brotherhood of war.
+Caste and estate seem to have been forgotten;
+all are engaged in a common business,
+full of similar risks, and rewarded by a similar wage.</p>
+
+<p>In one corner of the room a game of cards
+was in progress, some soldiers were reading,
+and a few writing letters. Now and again
+a song was heard, and a score of voices
+joined in the chorus. The scene was one of
+indescribable gaiety; the temperament of
+the assembly was like a hearty laugh, infectious
+and healthy. Now and then a discussion took place, and towards the close
+of the evening hot words were exchanged
+between Bill and his friend, the bright-eyed Cockney.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give old Ginger Nobby what for one day!" said the latter.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you? I don't think!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bet yer a bob I will!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd lose it."</p>
+
+<p>"Would I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Straight you would!"</p>
+
+<p>"Strike me pink if I would!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know nothin' of what you're sayin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I?"</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span>
+
+<p>"Git!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut!"</p>
+
+<p>In the coffee-shop Wankin is invariably
+the centre of an interested group. As the
+company scapegrace and black sheep of the
+battalion he occupies in his mates' eyes
+a position of considerable importance. His
+repartees are famous, and none knows better
+than he how to score off an unpopular officer
+or N.C.O. He has the distinction also of
+having spent more days in the guard-room
+than any other man in the battalion.</p>
+
+<p>On the occasion when identity discs were
+being served out to the men and a momentary
+stir pervaded the battalion, it was Wankin
+who first became involved in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>He employed the disc string to fasten the
+water-bottle of the man on his left to the
+haversack of the man on his right, and the
+colour-sergeant, livid with rage, vowed to
+chasten him by confining him eternally to
+barracks. But the undaunted company
+scapegrace was not to be beaten. Fastening
+the identity disc on his left eye he fixed a stern look on the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"My deah fellah," he drawled out, imitating
+the voice of the company lieutenant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span>
+who wears an eyeglass, "your remarks are
+uncalled for, really. By Jove! one would
+think that a scrap of string was a gold
+bracelet or a diamond necklace. I could
+buy the disc and the string for a bloomin' 'apenny."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll pay dearly for it this time," said
+the colour with fine irony. "Three days
+C.B.<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> your muckin' about'll cost you."
+And before Wankin could reply the sergeant
+was reporting the matter to the captain.</p>
+
+<p>Wankin is eternally in trouble, although
+his agility in dodging pickets and his skill
+in making a week's C.B. a veritable holiday
+are the talk of the regiment. All the
+officers know him, and many of them who
+have been victims of his smart repartee
+fear him more than they care to acknowledge.
+The subaltern with the eyeglass is a bad
+route-marcher, and Wankin once remarked
+in an audible whisper that the officer had
+learned his company drill with a drove of
+haltered pack-horses, and the officer bears
+the name of "Pack-horse" ever since.</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion the major suffered
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span>
+when a battalion kit inspection took place
+early one December morning. Wankin had
+sold his spare pair of boots, the pair that
+is always kept on top of the kit-bag; but
+when the major inspected Wankin's kit the
+boots were there, newly polished and freed
+from the most microscopic speck of dust.
+Someone tittered during the inspection, then
+another, and the major smelt a rat. He
+lifted Wankin's kit-bag in his hand and
+found Wankin's feet tucked under it&mdash;Wankin's
+feet in stockinged soles. The major
+was justly indignant. "One step to the
+front, left turn," he roared. "March in
+front of every rank in the battalion and see what you think of it!"</p>
+
+<p>With stockinged feet, cold, but still wearing
+an inscrutable smile of impudence, Wankin
+paraded in front of a thousand grinning
+faces and in due course got back to his kit and beside the sarcastic major.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of it?" asked the latter.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think much of it, sir," Wankin
+replied. "It's the dirtiest regiment I ever inspected."</p>
+
+<p>Wankin was sometimes unlucky; fortune
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span>
+refused to favour him when he took up the
+work of picket on the road between St.
+Albans and London. No unit of his regiment
+is supposed to go more than two miles
+beyond St. Albans without a written permit,
+and guards are placed at different points of
+the two-mile radius to intercept the regimental
+rakes whose feet are inclined to roving.
+Wankin learned that the London road was
+not to be guarded on a certain Sunday.
+The regiment was to parade for a long route-march,
+and all units were to be in attendance. Wankin pondered over things for a
+moment, girt on his belt and sword and took
+up his position on the London road within
+a hundred yards of a wayside public-house.
+At this tavern a traveller from St. Albans
+may obtain a drink on a Sabbath day.</p>
+
+<p>Soldiers, like most mortals, are sometimes
+dry and like to drink; Wankin was often
+dry and Wankin had seldom much money
+to spend. The first soldier who came out
+from the town wanted to get to the tavern.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't pass here!" the mock-picket told him.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm dry and I've a cold that catches me awful in the throat."</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span>
+
+<p>"Them colds are dangerous," Wankin
+remarked in a contemplative voice, tinged
+with compassion. "Used to have them bad
+myself an' I feel one coming on. I think
+gin, same as they have in the trenches, is
+the stuff to put a cold away. But I'm on the rocks."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll let me through I'll stand on my hands."</p>
+
+<p>"It's risky," said Wankin, then in a brave
+burst of bravado he said, "Damn it all!
+I'll let you go by. It's hard to stew dry
+so near the bar!" An hour later the young
+man set off towards home, and on his way
+he met two of his comrades-in-arms on the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Going to &mdash;&mdash; pub?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Going to see that no one does go near
+it," was the answer. "Picket duty for the rest of the day, we are."</p>
+
+<p>"But Wankin&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man explained, and shortly
+afterwards Wankin went to headquarters
+under an armed escort. Three days later
+I saw his head sticking out through the
+guard-room window, and at that time I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span>
+had not heard of the London road escapade.</p>
+
+<p>"Here on account of drink?" I asked him.</p>
+
+<p>"You fool," he roared at me. "Do you
+think I mistook this damned place for the canteen?"</p>
+
+<p>I like Wankin and most of his mates
+like him. We feel that when detention,
+barrack confinement and English taverns
+will be things of yesterday, Wankin will
+make a good and trustworthy friend in the trenches.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2: </b><a href="#footnotetag2">(return) </a><p>Confinement to Barracks.</p></blockquote>
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">The Night Side of Soldiering</h2>
+
+
+<p>There are three things in military life which make a great appeal to
+me; the rifle's reply to the pull of
+the trigger-finger, the gossip of soldiers in
+the crowded canteen, and the onward movement of a thousand men in full marching
+order with arms at the trail. And at no
+time is this so impressive as at night when
+with rifles held in a horizontal position by
+the side, the arm hanging easily from the
+shoulder, we march at attention in complete
+silence. Not a word is spoken by anyone
+save officers, little is heard but the dull
+crunch of boots on the gravel and the rustle
+of trenching-tool handles as they rub against
+trousers or haversack. Seen from a flank
+at the rear, the moving battalion, bending
+round the curve or straining to a hill, looks
+like the plesiosaur of the picture shown
+in the act of dragging its cumbrous length
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span>
+along. The silence is full of mystery, the
+gigantic mass, of which you form so minute
+a unit, is entirely voiceless, a dumb thing
+without a tongue, brooding, as it were, over
+some eternal sorrow or ancient wrong to
+which it cannot give expression. Marching
+thus at night, a battalion is doubly
+impressive. The silent monster is full of
+restrained power; resolute in its onward
+sweep, impervious to danger, it looks a
+menacing engine of destruction, steady to
+its goal, and certain of its mission.</p>
+
+<p>A march like this fell to our lot once
+every fortnight. At seven in the evening,
+loaded with full pack, bayonet, haversack,
+ground-sheet, water-bottle, overcoat, and
+rifle, we would take our way from the town
+out into the open country. The night
+varied in temper&mdash;sometimes it rained;
+again, it froze and chilled the ears and
+finger-tips; and once we marched with
+the full moon over us, lighting up the whole
+county&mdash;the fields, the woods, the lighted
+villages, the snug farmhouses, and the grey
+roads by which the long line of khaki-clad
+soldiers went on their way. That night was one to be remembered.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span>
+
+<p>We went off from the parade ground, a
+thousand strong, along the sloping road
+that sweeps down the hill on which our
+town is built. Giggling girls watched us
+depart&mdash;they are ever there when the soldiers are on the move&mdash;old gentlemen and
+ladies wished us luck as we passed, but
+never a head of a thousand heads turned
+to the left or right, never a tongue replied
+to the cheery greetings; we were marching
+at attention, with arms at the trail.</p>
+
+<p>The sky stood high, splashed with stars,
+and the moon, pinched and anćmic, hung
+above like a whitish speck of smoke that
+had curled into a ball. Marching at the
+rear, I could see the long brown line curving
+round a corner ahead, the butt-plates of
+the rifles sparkling brightly, the white trenching-tool
+handles shaking backward and forward at every move of the men.</p>
+
+<p>"March easy!"</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour had passed, and we were
+now in the open country. At the word
+of command rifles were slung over the shoulders,
+and the battalion found voice, first
+in brisk conversation and exchange of witticisms, then in shouting and song. We
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span>
+have escaped from the tyranny of "Tipperary," none of us sing it now, but that
+doggerel is replaced by other music-hall
+abominations which are at present in the
+full glory of their rocket-reign. A parody
+of a hymn, "Toiling on," is also popular, and
+my Jersey mate gave it full vent on the left.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"Lager beer! lager beer!</p>
+<p>There's a lager beer saloon across the way.</p>
+<p>Lager bee-ee-eer!</p>
+<p>Is there any lager beer to give away."</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>Although the goddess of music forgot
+me in the making, I found myself roaring
+out the chorus for all I was worth along with my Jersey friend.</p>
+
+<p>"You're singing some!" he remarked,
+sarcastically, when the chorus came to an
+end. "But, no wonder! This night would
+make a brass monkey sing. It's grand to be alive!"</p>
+
+<p>Every battalion has its marching songs.
+One of the favourites with us was written
+by a certain rifleman in "C" Company,
+sung to the air of "Off to Philadelphia in the Morning." It runs:</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"It is said by our commanders that in trenches out by Flanders</p>
+<p>There is work to do both trying and exciting,</p>
+<p>And the men who man the trenches, they are England's men and French's</p>
+<p>Where the legions of the khaki-clad are fighting.</p>
+<p>Though bearing up so gaily they are waiting for us daily,</p>
+<p>For the fury of the foemen makes them nervous,</p>
+<p>But the foe may look for trouble when we charge them at the double,</p>
+<p>We, the London Irish out on active service.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<center><i>Chorus.</i></center>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">"With our rifles on our shoulder, sure there's no one could be bolder,</p>
+<p class="i2">And we'll double out to France when we get warnin'</p>
+<p class="i2">And we'll not stop long for trifles, we're the London Irish Rifles,</p>
+<p class="i2">When we go to fight the Germans in the mornin'.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"An' the girls: oh it will grieve them when we take the train and leave them,</p>
+<p>Oh! what tears the dears will weep when we are moving,</p>
+<p>But it's just the old, old story, on the path that leads to Glory,</p>
+<p>Sure we cannot halt for long to do our loving.</p>
+<p>They'll see us with emotion all departing o'er the ocean,</p>
+<p>And every maid a-weepin' for her lover;</p>
+<p>'Good-bye' we'll hear them callin', while so many tears are fallin'</p>
+<p>That they'd almost swamp the boat that takes us over.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<center><i>Chorus.</i></center>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">"With our rifles," etc.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>Our colonel sang this song at a concert,
+thus showing the democratic nature of the
+New Army, where a colonel sings the songs
+written in the ranks of his own battalion.</p>
+
+<p>At the ten minutes' halt which succeeded
+the first hour's march, my Jersey friend spoke
+to me again. "Aren't there stars!" he said,
+turning his face to the heavens and gripping
+his rifle tightly as if for support. His wide
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span>
+open eyes seemed to have grown in size,
+and were full of an expression I had never
+seen in them before. "I like the stars,"
+he remarked, "they're so wonderful. And
+to think that men are killing each other
+now, this very minute!" He clanked the
+butt of his gun on the ground and toyed with the handle of his sword.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour passed by; under the
+light of the moon the country looked beautiful;
+every pond showed a brilliant face
+to the heavens, light mists seemed to hover
+over every farmhouse and cottage; light
+winds swept through the telegraph wires;
+only the woods looked dark, and there the
+trees seemed to be hugging the darkness around them.</p>
+
+<p>On our way back a sharp shower, charged
+with a penetrating cold, fell. The waterproof
+ground-sheets were unrolled, and we
+tied them over our shoulders. When the
+rain passed, the water falling in drops from
+our equipment glittered so brightly that
+it put the polished swords and brilliant rifle butt-plates to shame.</p>
+
+<p>We stole into the town at midnight,
+when nearly all the inhabitants were abed.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span>
+With arms at the trail, we marched along,
+throwing off company after company, at
+the streets where they billeted. The battalion dwindled down slowly; my party
+came to a halt, and the order "Dismiss!"
+was given, and we went to our billets. The
+Jersey youth came with me to my doorstep.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas a grand march!" he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help looking at the stars!"
+he said as he moved off. "There are a lot
+to-night. And to think&mdash;" He hesitated, with the words trembling on his
+tongue, realising that he was going to repeat
+himself. "Anyway, there's some stars,"
+he said in a low voice. "Good night!"</p>
+
+<p>There is a peculiar glamour about all
+night work. The importance of night
+man&oelig;uvring was emphasised in the South
+African War, and we had ample opportunities of becoming accustomed to the
+darkness. On one occasion at about nine
+o'clock we swung out from the town with
+our regimental pipe-band playing to pursue
+some night operations. So far the men
+did not know what task had been assigned to them.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span>
+
+<p>"We've got to do to-night's work as
+quiet as a growing mushroom," someone
+whispered to me, as we took our way off
+the road and lined up in the field that,
+stretching out in front and flanks, lost itself
+in formless mistiness under the loom of the
+encircling hedgerows. Here and there in
+the distance trees stand up gaunt and bare,
+holding out their leafless branches as if
+in supplication to the grey sky; a slight
+whisper of wind moaned along the ground and died away in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Our officer, speaking in a low voice, gave
+instructions. "The enemy is advancing to
+attack us in great force," he explained, "and
+our scouts have located him some six miles
+away from here. We have now found that
+it is inadvisable to march on any farther, as
+our reinforcements are not very strong and
+have been delayed to rear. Therefore we
+have decided to take up our present position
+as a suitable ground for operations and
+entrenching ourselves in&mdash;ready to give battle.
+Everything now must be done very quickly.
+Our lives will, perhaps, depend at some
+early date on the quickness with which we
+can hide ourselves from the foe. So; dig
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span>
+your trench as quickly as possible, as quickly,
+in fact, as if your life depended on it. Work
+must be done in absolute silence; no smoking
+is allowed, no lighting of matches, no talk.</p>
+
+<p>"A word about orders. Commands are
+not to be shouted, but will be passed along
+from man to man, and none must speak
+above his breath. The passing of messages
+along in this manner is very difficult; words
+get lost, and unnecessary words are added
+in transit. But I hope you'll make a success
+of the job. Now we'll see how quickly we can get hidden!"</p>
+
+<p>A "screen" of scouts (one man to every
+fifty yards of frontage) took up its place in
+line a furlong ahead. A hundred paces to
+rear of the "screen" the officers marked out
+the position of the trenches, placing soldiers
+as markers on the imaginary alignment.
+In front lay a clear field of fire, a deadly area
+for an enemy advancing to the attack.</p>
+
+<p>We took off our equipment, hafted the
+entrenching tools which we always carry,
+and bent to our work in the wet clay. The
+night was close and foggy, the smell of the
+damp earth and the awakening spring verdure
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span>
+filled our nostrils. In the distance was heard
+the rumbling of trains, the jolting of wagons
+along the country road, the barking of dogs,
+and clear and musical through all these
+sounds came the song of a mavis or merle from the near hedgerows.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of ten minutes we were
+sweating at our work, and several units of
+the party took off their tunics. One hapless
+individual got into trouble immediately. His
+shirt was not regulation colour, it was spotlessly
+white and visible at a hundred yards.
+A whispered order from the officer on the
+left faltered along the line of diggers.</p>
+
+<p>"Man with white shirt, put on his tunic!"</p>
+
+<p>The order was obeyed in haste, the white
+disappeared rapidly as the arms of the culprit
+slid into sleeves, and the covering tunic hid his wrong from the eyes of man.</p>
+
+<p>The night wore on. Now and again a clock
+in the town struck out the time with a dull,
+weary clang that died away in the darkness.
+On both sides I could see stretching out,
+like some gigantic and knotted rope, the row
+of bent workers, the voiceless toilers, busy
+with their labours. Picks rose into the air,
+remained poised a moment, then sank to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span>
+tear the sluggish earth and pull it apart.
+The clay was thrown out to front and rear,
+and scattered evenly, so that the natural
+contour of the ground might show no signs
+of man's interference. And even as we
+worked the section commanders stole up and
+down behind us, urging the men to make
+as little sound as possible&mdash;our safety depended
+on our silence. But pick and shovel,
+like the rifle, will sing at their toil, and
+insistent and continuous, as if in threat,
+they rasped out the almost incoherent song of labour.</p>
+
+<p>A man beside me suddenly laid down
+his shovel and battled with a cough that
+strove to break free and riot in the darkness.
+I could see his face go purple, his eyes stare
+out as if endeavouring to burst from their
+sockets. Presently he was victor, and as
+he bent to his shovel again I heard him
+whisper huskily, "'Twas a stiff go, that; it almost floored me."</p>
+
+<p>Thrown from tongue to tongue as a ball
+is thrown in play, a message from the captain
+on the flank hurried along the living line.
+"Close in on the left," was the order, and
+we hastened to obey. Trenching tools were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span>
+unhafted and returned to their carriers,
+equipments were donned again, belts tightened,
+and shoulder-straps buttoned. Singly,
+in pairs, and in files we hurried back to the
+point of assembly, to find a very angry captain awaiting us.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very disappointed with to-night's
+work," he said. "I sent five messages out;
+two of them died on the way; a third reached
+its destination, but in such a muddled condition
+that it was impossible to recognise
+it as the one sent off. The order to cease
+work was the only one that seemed to hurry
+along. Out at the front, where all orders
+are passed along the trenches in this manner,
+it is of the utmost importance that every
+word is repeated distinctly, and that no
+order miscarries. Even out there, it is found
+very difficult to send messages along."</p>
+
+<p>The captain paused for a moment; then
+told a story. "It is said that an officer at
+the front gave out the following message
+to the men in the trenches: 'In the wood
+on the right a party of German cavalry,'
+and when the message travelled half a mile
+it had changed to: 'German Navy defeated
+in the North Sea.' We don't know how
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span>
+much truth there is in the story, but I hope
+we will not make a mistake like that out there."</p>
+
+<p>Lagging men were still stealing in as we
+took up our places in columns of fours. A
+clock struck out the hour of twelve, and the
+bird in the hedgerow was still singing as we
+marched out to the roadway, and followed our merry pipers home to town.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">Divisional Exercise and Mimic Warfare</h2>
+
+
+<p>Divisional exercise is a great game of
+make-believe. All sorts of liberties
+are taken, the clock is put forward
+or back at the command of the general, a
+great enemy army is created in the twinkling
+of an eye, day is turned into night and a
+regular game of topsy-turvydom indulged
+in. On the occasion of which I write the
+whole division was out. The time was nine
+o'clock in the forenoon, and an imaginary
+forced march was nearly completed, and an
+imaginary day was at an end. We were
+being hurried up as reinforcements to the
+main army, which was in touch with the
+enemy ahead and an engagement was developing. Our battalion came to a halt
+on the roadway, closing in to the left in order
+to give full play to the field telephone service in process of being laid.</p>
+
+<p>Our officers went out in front to seek
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span>
+a position for a bivouac; the doctor accompanied
+them to examine the place chosen,
+see to the water supply, the drainage, and
+sanitation. In addition to this, our commanders
+had to find the battalion a resting-ground easy to defend and of merit as a
+tactical position.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock we lay down, battalion after
+battalion, just as we halted: equipment
+on, our packs unloosened but shoved up
+under our heads, and our rifles by our sides,
+muzzles towards the enemy. One word of
+command would bring twenty thousand men
+from their beds, ready in an instant, rifles
+loaded, bayonets at hips, quick to the route
+and ready for battle. We would rise, as we
+slept, in full marching order, and the space
+of a moment would find us hurrying, fully
+armed, into battle, with the sleep of night still heavy in our eyes.</p>
+
+<p>For miles around the soldiers lay down, each
+in his place and every place occupied. Hardly a word was spoken; commands
+were whispered, and our officers crept round
+explaining the work ahead. Two miles in
+front the enemy was assembled in great
+strength on a river, and by dawn, if all went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>
+well, we would enter the firing line. At
+present we had to lie still; no man was to
+move about, and sentries with fixed bayonets
+were stationed at front, flank, and rear,
+ready to give the alarm at the first sign of danger.</p>
+
+<p>Behind us were the kitchen, horse-lines,
+and latrines. The position of these varies
+as the wind changes, and it is imperative
+that unhealthy odours are not blown across
+the bivouac. The battalion lay in two
+parallel squares, with a gangway, blocked
+up with baggage and various necessaries,
+between. On these squares no refuse was
+to be thrown down; the ground had to be
+kept clean; papers, scraps of meat, and
+pieces of bread, if not eaten, had to be buried.</p>
+
+<p>Even as we lay, and while the officers
+were explaining the work in hand, the
+artillery took up its stand on several wooded
+knolls that rose behind us. What a splendid
+sight, the artillery going into action! Heavy
+guns, an endless line of them, swept over
+the greensward and rattled into place. Six
+horses strained at each gun, which was
+accompanied by two ammunition wagons
+with six horses to each wagon. How many
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span>
+horses! How many guns! Out of nowhere
+in particular they came, and disappeared
+as if behind a curtain barely four hundred
+yards away. Thirty minutes afterwards I
+fancied as I looked in their direction that
+I could see black, ominous muzzles peering
+through the undergrowth. Probably I was
+mistaken. Anyhow, they were there, guarding
+us while we slept, our silent watchers!</p>
+
+<p>About eleven o'clock an orderly stole in
+and spoke to the colonel, a hurried consultation
+in which all the officers took part was
+held, and the messenger departed. Again
+followed an interval of silence, only broken
+by the officers creeping round and giving
+us further information. The enemy was
+repulsed, they told us, and was now in retreat,
+but before moving off he had blown up all
+the bridges on the river. The artillery of
+our main army in front was shelling the
+fleeing foe, and our engineers had just set
+off to build three pontoon bridges, so that the
+now sleeping division could cross at dawn and follow the army in retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Our dawn came at one o'clock in the
+afternoon; a whistle was blown somewhere
+near at hand, and the battalion sprang to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span>
+life; every unit, with pack on back, cartridge
+pouches full, rifle at the order, was
+afoot and ready. Only two hours before
+had the engineers set out to build the bridges
+which the whole division, with its regiment
+after regiment, with its artillery, its guns,
+ammunition wagons and horses, its transport
+section, and vehicles of all descriptions, was
+now to cross. The landscape had changed
+utterly, the country was alive, and had
+found voice; the horse-lines were broken,
+and all the animals, from the colonel's charger
+to the humble pack horse, were on the move.
+The little squares, dotted brown, had taken
+on new shape, and were transformed into
+companies of moving men in khaki. We
+were out on the heels of the retreating foe.</p>
+
+<p>Two hours' forced marching brought us
+to the river, a real one, with three pontoon
+bridges, newly built and held firm on flat-bottomed
+boats moored in mid-stream. We
+took our way across, and bent to the hill
+on the other side. Half-way up, in a narrow
+lane, a wagon got stuck in the front of our
+battalion, and we were forced to come to
+a halt for a moment. Looking back, I could
+see immediately behind three lines of men
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span>
+straining to the hill; farther back the same
+lines were crossing the bridges and, away
+in the far distance, pencilled brown on the
+ploughed fields, the three lines of khaki
+crawled along like long threads endlessly
+unwinding from some invisible ball. Now
+and again I could see the artillery coming into
+sight, only to disappear again over a wooded
+knoll or into an almost invisible hollow.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the division, the apparently limitless
+lines of men, horses, and guns crawled
+on the track of the fleeing enemy. As we
+stood there, held in check by the wagon, and
+as I looked back at the thousands of soldiers
+in the rear, I felt indeed that I was a minute
+mite amongst the many. And then a second
+thought struck me. The whole mass of
+men around me was a small thing in relation
+to the numbers engaged in the great war.
+Even I, Rifleman Something or Another, No.
+So-and-so, bulked larger in the division as
+one of its units than the division did in the
+war as a unit of the Allied Forces.</p>
+
+<p>Even more interesting than divisional
+exercises is the mimic warfare that is heralded
+by a notice in battalion orders such as the
+following: "The battalion will take part
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span>
+in brigade exercise to-day. Ten rounds of
+blank ammunition and haversack rations will be carried."</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock in the morning whistles
+were blown at the bottom of the street in
+which my company is billeted, and the
+soldiers, rubbing the sleep from their eyes
+or munching the last mouthful of a hasty
+breakfast, came trooping out from the snug
+middle-class houses in which they are quartered.
+The morning was bitterly cold, and
+the falling rain splashed soberly on the
+pavement, every drop coming slowly to
+ground as if selecting a spot to rest on. The
+colour-sergeant, standing at the end of the
+street, whistle in hand, was in a nasty temper.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry up, you heavy-footed beggars,"
+he yelled to the men. "The parade takes
+place to-day, not to-morrow! And you,
+what's wrong with your understandings?"
+he called to a man who came along wearing carpet slippers.</p>
+
+<p>"My boots are bad, colour," is the answer. "I cannot march in them."</p>
+
+<p>"And are you goin' to march in them
+drorin'-room abominations?" roared the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span>
+sergeant. "Get your boots mended and grease out of it."</p>
+
+<p>At roll-call three of the company were
+found to be absent; two were sick, and one
+who had been found guilty of using bad
+language to a N.C.O. was confined to the
+guard-room. Those who answered their
+names were served out with packets of blank
+ammunition, one packet per man, and each
+containing ten cartridges wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue string.</p>
+
+<p>The captain read the following instructions: "The enemy is reported to be in
+strong force on X hill, and Battalions A and
+B are ordered to dislodge him from that
+position. A will form first line of attack,
+B will send up reserves and supports as
+needed." The rifles were examined by our
+young lieutenant, after which inspection the
+company joined the battalion, and presently
+a thousand men with rifles on shoulder,
+bayonets and haversacks on left hip, and
+ammunition in pouches, were marching
+through the rain along the muddy streets, out into the open country.</p>
+
+<p>The day promised to be an interesting one
+from my point of view; I had never taken
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span>
+part in a mimic battle before, and the day's
+work was to be in many ways similar to
+operations on the real field of battle. "Only
+nobody gets killed, of course," my mate told
+me. He had taken part in this kind of work
+before, and was wise in his superior knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>"One-half of the brigade, two thousand
+men, is our enemy," he explained; "and
+we're going to fight them. The battalion
+that's helping us is on in front, and it will
+soon be fighting. When it's hard pressed
+we'll go up to help, for we're the supports.
+It won't be long till we hear the firing."</p>
+
+<p>An hour's brisk march was followed by a
+halt, when we were ordered to draw well into
+the left of the road to let the company guns go
+by. Dark-nosed and cold, they wheeled
+past, the horses sweating as they strained at
+the carriage shafts; the drivers, by deft
+handling, pulling the steeds clear of the ruts;
+out in front they swung, and the battalion
+closed up and resumed its march behind.</p>
+
+<p>The rain ceased and a cold sun shot feeble
+rays over the sullen December landscape.
+Again a halt was called; the brigadier-general,
+followed by two officers and several
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span>
+orderlies, galloped up, and a hurried consultation
+with our colonel took place. In a
+moment the battalion moved ahead only to
+come to a dead stop again after ten minutes'
+slow marching, and find a company detailed
+off to guard the rear. The other companies,
+led by their officers, turned off the road and
+moved in sections across the newly furrowed
+and soggy fields. A level sweep of December
+England broken only by leafless hedgerows
+and wire fencing stretched out in front towards
+a wooded hillock, that stood up black against
+the sky-line two miles away. The enemy
+held this wood; we could hear his guns
+booming and now considered ourselves under
+shell fire. Each squad of sixteen men marched
+in the rear or on the flank of its neighbour;
+this method of progression minimises the
+dangers of bursting shrapnel, for a shell
+falling in the midst of one body of men and
+causing considerable damage will do no harm to the adjacent party.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere near us our gunners were
+answering the enemy's fire; but so well
+hidden were the guns that I could not locate
+them. We still crept slowly forward; section
+after section crawled across the black, ploughed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span>
+fields, now rising up like giant caterpillars
+to the crest of a mound, and again dropping
+out of sight in the hollow land like corks on
+a comber. On our heels the ambulance
+corps followed with its stretchers, and in front
+the enemy was firing vigorously; over the
+belt of trees that lined the summit of the hillock
+little wisps of smoke could be seen rising and fading in the air.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly we came into line with our guns
+hidden in a deep narrow cart-track, their
+dark muzzles trained on the enemy, and the
+gunners, knee-deep in the mire of the lane,
+sweating at their work. "We're under covering
+fire now," our young lieutenant explained,
+as we trudged forward, lifting enormous
+masses of clay on our boots at every step.
+"One battalion is engaged already; hear the shots."</p>
+
+<p>The rifles were barking on the left front;
+in a moment the reports from that quarter
+died away, and the right found voice. The
+men of the first line were in the trenches dug
+by us a fortnight earlier, and there they
+would remain, we knew, until their supports
+came to their aid. Already we passed
+several of them, who were detailed off on the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span>
+anticipated casualty list in the morning. These
+wore white labels in their buttonholes, telling
+of the nature of their wounds. One label bore
+the words: "Shot in right shoulder; wound
+not dangerous." Another read: "Leg blown
+off," and a third ran: "Flesh wounds in
+arm and leg." These men would be taken
+into the care of the ambulance party when it arrived.</p>
+
+<p>When within fifteen hundred yards of the
+enemy, the command for extended order
+advance was given, and the section spread
+out in one long line, fronting the knoll, with
+five pace intervals between the men. We
+were now under rifle-fire, and all further
+movements forward were made in short sharp
+rushes, punctuated by halts, during which we
+lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the
+soft earth, and the rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin.</p>
+
+<p>Six hundred yards from the enemy's front
+we tumbled into the trenches already in
+possession of Battalion B, and I found myself
+ankle-deep in mire, beside a unit of another
+regiment who was enjoying a cigarette and
+blowing rings of smoke into the air. Although
+no enemy was visible we got the order
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span>
+to fire, and I discharged three rounds in rapid succession.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't fire, you fool!" said the man who
+was blowing the smoke rings. "Them blanks
+dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the
+clay from your clothes t'night you'll not
+want to muck about with your rifle. There's
+a price for copper, and I always sell my cartridge
+cases. The first time I came out I fired, but never since."</p>
+
+<p>Several rushes forward followed, and the
+penultimate hundred yards were covered with
+fixed bayonets. In this manner we were
+prepared for any surprise. The enemy replied
+fitfully to our fire, and we could now
+see several khaki-clad figures with white
+hat-bands&mdash;the differential symbols&mdash;moving
+backwards and forwards amidst the trees.
+Presently they disappeared as we worked
+nearer to their lines. We were now rushing
+forward, lying down to fire, rising and running
+only to drop down again and discharge
+another round. Within fifty yards of the
+coppice the order to charge was given. A
+yell, almost fiendish in its intensity, issued
+from a thousand throats; anticipation of
+the real work which is to be done some day,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span>
+lent spirit to our rush. In an instant we
+were in the wood, smashing the branches
+with our bayonets, thrusting at imaginary
+enemies, roaring at the top of our voices, and
+capping a novel fight with a triumphant final.</p>
+
+<p>And our enemies? Having finished their
+day's work they were now fifteen minutes'
+march ahead of us on the way back to their rest and rations.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">The General Inspection and the Everlasting Waiting</h2>
+
+
+<p>One of our greatest trials is the general
+inspection, which takes place every
+month, and once Lord Kitchener inspected the battalion, in company with the
+division quartered in our town. But that
+was before I joined. It involves much
+labour in the way of preparation. On one
+occasion, midnight the night before, a Friday,
+found us still busy with our work. My
+cot-mate was in difficulties with his rifle&mdash;the
+cloth of the pull-through stuck in the
+barrel, and he could not move it, although
+he broke a bamboo cane and bent a poker
+in the attempt. "It's a case for the armoury," he remarked gloomily. "What a
+nuisance that ramrods are done away with!
+We've been at it since eight o'clock, and
+getting along A1. Now that beastly pull-through!"</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span>
+
+<p>What an evening's work! On the day
+following the brigadier-general was to inspect
+us, and we had to appear on parade
+spick and span, with rifles spotless, and
+every article of our equipment in good
+order. Packs were washed and hung over
+the rim of the table by our billet fire, web-belts
+were cleaned, and every speck of mud
+and grease removed. Our packs, when dry,
+were loaded with overcoat, mess-tin, housewife,
+razor, towel, etc., and packed tightly
+and squarely, showing no crease at side
+or bulge at corner. Ground-sheets were
+neatly rolled and fastened on top of pack,
+no overlapping was allowed; rifles were
+oiled and polished from muzzle to butt-plate, and swords rubbed with emery paper
+until not a single speck of rust remained.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday morning found us trim and
+tidy on the parade ground. An outsider
+would hardly dream that we were the men who had ploughed through the muddy
+countryside and sunk to the knees in the
+furrowed fields daily since the wet week
+began. Where was the clay that had caked
+brown on our khaki, the rust that spoilt
+the lustre of our swords, and the fringes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span>
+that the wire fences tore on our tunics?
+All gone; soap and water, a brush, needle
+and thread, and a scrap of emery paper
+had worked the miracle. We stood easy
+awaiting the arrival of the general; platoons
+sized from flanks to centres (namely, the
+tallest men stood at the flanks, and the
+khaki lines dwindled in stature towards
+the small men in the middle), and company
+officers at front and rear. The officers saw
+that everything was correct, that no lace-ends
+showed from under the puttees, that
+no lace-eye lay idle, and that laces were not
+crossed over the boots. Each man had
+shaved and got his hair cut, his hat set
+straight on his head, and the regimental
+badge in proper position over the idle chin-strap.
+Pocket-flaps and tunics were buttoned, water-bottles and haversacks hung
+straight, the tops of the latter in line with
+the bayonet rings, and entrenching tool
+handles were scrubbed clean&mdash;my mate and I
+had spent much soap on ours the night before.</p>
+
+<p>One of our officers gave us instructions
+as to how we had to behave during the
+inspection, more especially when we were
+under the direct gaze of the general.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span>
+
+<p>"Not a movement," he told us. "Every
+eyelash must be still. If the general asks
+me your name and I make a mistake and
+say you are Smith instead of Brown, your
+real name, you're not to say a word. You
+are Brown for the time being. If he speaks
+to you, you're to answer: 'Sir,' and 'Sir'
+only to every question. If you're asked
+what was your age last birthday, 'Sir'
+is to be the only answer. Is that clear to every man?"</p>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, clear, surprisingly clear;
+but we wondered at the command, which
+was new to us. To answer in this fashion
+appeared strange to us; we thought (the
+right to think is not denied to a soldier)
+it a funny method of satisfying a general's curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>He came, a tall, well-set man, with stern
+eyebrows and a heavy moustache, curled
+upwards after the manner of an Emperor
+whom we heartily dislike, attended by a
+slim brigade major, who wore a rather large
+eyeglass, and made several entries in his
+notebook, as he followed on the heels of
+the superior inspecting the battalion.</p>
+
+<p>We stood, every unit of us, sphinx-like,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span>
+immovable, facing our front and resigned
+to our position. To an onlooker it might
+seem as if we were frozen there&mdash;our fingers
+glued on to our rifles and our feet firm to
+the earth at an angle of forty-five degrees.
+I stood near the rear, and could see the
+still platoons in front, not a hat moved, not
+a boot shifted. The general broke the spell when he was passing me.</p>
+
+<p>"Another button. There were forty-seven
+the last time," he said, and the man with
+the eyeglass made an entry in the notebook. Through an oversight, I had helped
+to lower the prestige of the battalion: a
+pocket flap of my tunic was unbuttoned.</p>
+
+<p>Kit inspection was a business apart;
+the general picked out several soldiers haphazard
+and ordered their packs to be opened
+for an examination of the contents&mdash;spoons,
+shirts, socks, and the various necessaries
+which dismounted men in full marching order
+must carry on their persons were inspected
+carefully. A full pack is judged best by
+its contents, and nearly all packs passed
+muster. One man was unlucky: his mate
+was chosen for kit inspection, but this hapless
+individual came out minus a toothbrush
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span>
+and comb, and the friend in need took his
+place in the freshly-formed ranks. Here,
+the helper found that his own kit was inefficient,
+he had forgotten to put in a pair of
+socks. That afternoon he had to do two hours' extra drill.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps an even greater trial than Divisional
+Inspection was that of waiting orders
+when we were the victims of camp rumours.
+But this was as nothing to the false alarms.
+There is some doggerel known to the men which runs:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"We're off to the front," said the colonel,</p>
+<p class="i4">as he placed us in the train,</p>
+<p>"And we went at dawn from the station,</p>
+<p class="i4">and at night came back again."</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>For months we had drilled and drilled,
+all earnest in our labours and filled with
+enthusiasm for our new profession, and daily
+we await the order to leave for foreign
+parts. Where are we going to when we
+leave England? France, Egypt, or India?
+Rumour had it yesterday that we would
+go to Egypt; to-day my mate, the blue-eyed Jersey youth, heard from a friend,
+who heard it from a colour-sergeant, that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span>
+we are going out to India, where we will
+be kept as guardians of the King's Empire
+for a matter of four years. Ever since I
+joined the Army it has been the same:
+reports name a new destination for my battalion daily.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards we had to go and help the
+remarkable Russians who passed through
+England on the way to France; but when
+the Russians faded from the ken of vision
+and the Press Bureau denied their very
+existence, it was immediately reported that
+we had been drilled into shape in order to
+demolish De Wet and all his South African
+rebels. De Wet was captured and is now
+under military control, and still we waited
+orders to move from the comfortable billets
+and crowded streets of our town. Dry eyes
+would see us depart, mocking children would
+bid us sarcastic farewells, the kindly landladies
+and their fair daughters would laugh
+when we bade adieu and moved away to
+some destination unknown. We had already
+taken our farewell three times, and
+on each occasion we have come back again
+to our billets before the day that saw our departure came to an end.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span>
+
+<p>The heart of every man thrilled with
+excitement when the announcement was
+made for the first time, one weary evening
+when we had just completed a ten-hour
+divisional field exercise. Our officer read it
+from a typewritten sheet, and the announcement was as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"All men in the battalion must stand
+under arms until further orders. No
+soldier is to leave his billet; boots are
+not to be taken off, and best marching
+pairs are to be worn. Every unit of
+the company who lacks any part of
+the necessary equipment must immediately
+report at quartermaster's stores,
+where all wants will be supplied. Identity
+discs to be worn, swords must be
+cleaned and polished, and twenty-four
+hours' haversack rations are to be carried.
+The battalion has to entrain for
+some unknown destination when called
+upon."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The news spread through the town: the
+division was going to move! On the morrow
+we would be sailing for France, in a
+fortnight we would be in Berlin! Our
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span>
+landladies met us at the doors as we came
+in, looks of entreaty on their faces and tears
+in their eyes. The hour had come; we
+were going to leave them. And the landladies' daughters? One, a buxom wench
+of eighteen, kissed the Jersey youth in sight
+of the whole battalion, but nobody took
+any notice of the unusual incident. All
+were busy with their own thoughts, and
+eager for the new adventures before them.</p>
+
+<p>I did not go to sleep that night; booted
+and dressed I lay on the hearthrug in front
+of the fire, and waited for the call. About
+four o'clock in the morning a whistle was
+blown outside on the street; I got to my
+feet, put on my equipment, fastened the
+buckles of my haversack, bade adieu to
+my friends of the billet who had risen from
+bed to see me off, and joined my company.</p>
+
+<p>Five or six regiments were already on
+the move; transport wagons, driven by
+khaki-clad drivers with rifles slung over
+their shoulders, lumbered through the dimly-lighted
+thoroughfares; ammunition vans
+stood at every street corner; guns rattled
+along drawn by straining horses, the sweat
+steaming from the animals' flanks and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span>
+withers; an ambulance party sped through
+the greyness of the foggy morning, accompanied by a Red Cross lorry piled high
+with chests and stretcher poles, and soldiers
+in files and fours, in companies and columns,
+were in movement everywhere&mdash;their legions seemed countless and endless.</p>
+
+<p>Ammunition was given out from the
+powder magazine; each man was handed
+150 rounds of ball cartridge&mdash;a goodly weight
+to carry on a long day's march! With our
+ammunition we were now properly equipped
+and ready for any emergency. Each individual carried on his person in addition
+to rifle, bayonet (sword is the military
+name for the latter weapon) and ball cartridge,
+a blanket and waterproof sheet, an
+overcoat, a water-bottle, an entrenching
+tool and handle, as well as several other
+lighter necessaries, such as shirts, socks, a
+knife, fork, and spoon, razor, soap, and towel.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock, when the wintry dawn
+was breaking and the fog lifting, we entered
+the station. Hundreds of the inhabitants
+of the town came to see us off and cheer
+us on the long way to Tipperary: and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span>
+Tipperary meant Berlin. One of the inhabitants, a kindly woman who is loved by
+the soldiers of my company, to whom she
+is very good, came to the station as we were
+leaving, and presented a pair of mittens to each of fifty men.</p>
+
+<p>The train started on its journey, puffed
+a feeble cloud of smoke into the air, and
+suddenly came to a dead stop. Heads
+appeared at the windows, and voices inquired if the engine-driver had taken the
+wrong turning on the road to Berlin. The
+train shunted back into the station, and
+we all went back to our billets again, but
+not before our officers informed us that we
+had done the work of entraining very smartly,
+and when the real call did come we would
+lose no time on the journey to an unknown destination.</p>
+
+<p>Later we had two further lessons in entraining, and we came to fear that when
+the summons did come dry eyes would
+watch us depart and sarcastic jibes make
+heavy our leave-taking. Indeed, some of
+the inhabitants of our town hinted that
+we should never leave the place until the
+local undertakers make a profit on our exit.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span>
+So much for their gentle sarcasm! But
+well they knew that one day in the near
+future it would suddenly occur to our commanders
+to take us with them in the train to Berlin.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h2 class="sc">Ready to Go&mdash;The Battalion Moves</h2>
+
+
+<p>Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move,
+so every one stated, except our
+officers, and official information was not forthcoming.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going between midnight and
+five o'clock to-morrow morning," announced
+my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow&mdash;line's bunged up for the troops."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said
+his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking I should miss greatly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A sore toe
+eclipsed all other matters for the time being.</p>
+
+<p>"The ration men have served out enough
+for two days, and it doesn't stand to reason
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span>
+that they're going to waste anything," the
+little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.</p>
+
+<p>Parades went on as usual; the usual
+rations were doled out to billets and the
+usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We
+were weary of false alarms, waiting orders,
+and eternal parades. Some of us had been
+training for fully six months, others had
+joined the Army when war broke out, and
+we were still secure in England. "Why
+have we joined?" the men asked. "Is
+it to line the streets when the troops come home? We are a balmy regiment."</p>
+
+<p>One evening, Thursday to be exact, the
+battalion orders were interesting. One item
+ran as follows: "All fees due to billets
+will be paid up to Friday night. If any other
+billet expenses are incurred by battalion
+the same will be paid on application to the
+War Office." Friday evening found more
+explicit expression of our future movements
+in orders. The following items appeared:
+"Mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow.
+No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by
+the battalion overseas. All deficiencies in
+kit must be reported to-morrow morning.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span>
+Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers
+who have not yet received a copy of the
+New Testament can have same on application
+at the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we going?" we asked one
+another. Some answered saying that we
+were to help in the sack of Constantinople,
+others suggested Egypt, but all felt that
+we were going off to France at no very
+distant date. Was not this feeling plausible
+when we took into account a boot parade
+of the day before and how we were ordered
+to wear two pairs of socks when trying on
+the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested
+the trenches and cold, certainly not the
+sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or the burning sands of Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered
+in front of the quartermaster's stores
+drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets,
+ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity
+discs, new belts, water-bottles, pack-straps,
+trousers, tunics and the hundred and one
+other things required by the soldier on active
+service. In addition to the usual requisites,
+every unit received a cholera belt (they are
+more particular over this article of attire
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span>
+than over any other), two pairs of pants, a
+singlet and a cake of soap. The latter
+looked tallowy and nobody took it further
+than the billet; the pants were woollen, very
+warm and made in Canada. This reminds
+me of an amusing episode which took place
+last general inspection. While standing
+easy, before the brigadier-general made his
+appearance, the men compared razors and
+found that eighty per cent. of them had
+been made in Germany. But these were
+bought by the soldiers before war started.
+At least all affirmed that this was so.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers
+were drawing necessaries at midnight, and
+no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced
+that night. I drew my boots at eleven
+o'clock, and then the streets were crowded
+with our men, and merry and sad with
+sightseers and friends. Wives and sweethearts
+had come to take a last farewell of
+husbands and lovers, and were making the
+most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.</p>
+
+<p>Sunday.&mdash;No church parade; and all men
+stood under arms in the streets. The officers
+had taken off all the trumpery of war, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span>
+swords which they never learned to use,
+the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty
+wrist-watches. They now appeared in web
+equipment, similar to that worn by the men,
+and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer
+will not make a special target for the sniper
+and is not conspicuous by his uniform.</p>
+
+<p>Our captain made the announcement in
+a quiet voice, the announcement which had
+been waited for so long. "To-morrow we
+proceed overseas," he said. "On behalf of
+the colonel I've to thank you all for the
+way in which you have done your work up
+to the present, and I am certain that when
+we get out yonder," he raised his arm and
+his gesture might indicate any point of the
+compass, "you'll all do your work with
+the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."</p>
+
+<p>This was the announcement. The men
+received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation
+broke out in the ranks. "We're
+going at last"; "I thought when I joined
+that I'd be off next morning"; "What
+price a free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll
+be some great sport!" Such were the
+remarks that were bandied to and fro. But
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span>
+some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that
+the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.</p>
+
+<p>A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the
+Preservation of Health on Field Service,"
+was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember that disease attacks you from
+outside; it is your duty to keep it outside."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."</p>
+
+<p>"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if
+no other part of the body is. Socks should
+be taken off at the end of the march, be
+flattened out and well shaken. Put on a
+clean pair if possible, if not, put the left
+sock on the right foot, and vice versa."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, on arrival in camp, <i>food before fatigues</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Always rig up some kind of shelter at
+night for the head, if for no other part of the body."</p>
+
+<p>At twelve noon on Monday the whistles
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span>
+blew at the bottom of the street and we all
+turned out in full marching order with
+packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard
+the transport wagons clattering on the pavement,
+the merry laughter of the drivers, the
+noise of men falling into place and above
+all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.</p>
+
+<p>Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for orders to
+move, twice we paraded in full marching
+kit, eager for the command to entrain; but
+it was not forthcoming. Another day had
+to be spent in billets under strict instructions
+not to move from our quarters. The orders
+were posted up as usual at all street corners,
+a plan which is adopted for the convenience
+of units billeted a great distance from headquarters,
+and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:</p>
+
+<p>The battalion moves to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.</p>
+
+<p>Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.</p>
+
+<p>I rose from bed at three and set about to
+prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied
+himself with our equipment, putting everything
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span>
+into shape, buckling belts and flaps,
+burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of
+the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were
+stored away in our haversacks all ready,
+the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty
+scones up to twelve o'clock the night before.</p>
+
+<p>When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea,
+buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes,
+was over, we went out to our places. The
+morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with
+hail swept along the streets and whirled
+round the corners, causing the tails of our great
+coats to beat sharply against our legs. It
+was still very dark, only a few street-lamps
+were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully
+as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full
+marching order stamped out from every
+billet, took their way to the main street, where
+the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones,
+horses in shafts, and drivers at reins,
+stood in mathematical order, and from there
+on to the parade ground where sergeants,
+with book in one hand and electric torch
+in the other, were preparing to call the roll.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span>
+
+<p>Ammunition was served out, one hundred
+and twenty rounds to each man, and this
+was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles
+were inspected and identity discs examined
+by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed
+to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a
+shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets
+were already gone. The transport wagons
+had disappeared and with them our field-bags.
+I suppose they will await us in &mdash;&mdash; but
+I anticipate, and at present all we know
+is that our regiment is bound for some
+destination unknown where, when we arrive,
+we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.</p>
+
+<p>We stood by till eight o'clock. The day
+had cleared and the sun was shining brightly
+when we marched off to the station, through
+streets lined with people, thoughtful men
+who seemed to be very sad, women who wept
+and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."</p>
+
+<p>Three trains stood in the sidings by the
+station. Places were allotted to the men,
+eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned
+officers occupied a special carriage,
+the officers travelled first-class.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span>
+
+<p>Soon we were hurrying through England
+to a place unknown. Most of my comrades
+were merry and a little sentimental; they
+sang music-hall songs that told of home.
+There were seven with me in my compartment,
+the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing
+a weeping sweetheart in the cold hours of the
+early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always
+cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in
+the morning; Bill, the Cockney youth who
+never is so happy as when getting the best
+of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I
+have already spoken, and the Oxford man.
+The other three were almost complete strangers
+to me, they have just been drafted into our
+regiment; one was very fat and reminded me
+of a Dickens character in <i>Pickwick Papers</i>;
+another who soon fell asleep, his head warm
+in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping
+youth with large muscular hands, which
+betoken manual labour, and the last was a
+slightly-built boy with a budding moustache
+which seemed to have been waxed at one
+end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier
+said that the wax had melted from the
+few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span>
+
+<p>Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of
+the window to read their names, but was
+never successful. Cigarettes were smoked,
+the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and
+the floor littered with "fag-ends." Rifles
+were lying on the racks, four in each side,
+and caps, papers and equipment piled on
+top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.</p>
+
+<p>"With two pairs of socks to one boot!"
+Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and
+almost immediately fell asleep. He had been
+a great traveller and knows many countries.
+His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven,
+and in his youth he was educated for
+the church. "But the job was not one for
+me," he says, "and I threw it up." He
+looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.</p>
+
+<p>Our train journey neared the end. Bill
+was at the window and said that we were
+in sight of our destination. All were up
+and fumbling with their equipment; and
+one, the University man, hoped that the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span>
+night would be a good one for sailing to France.</p>
+
+<p>If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.</p>
+
+
+<center>THE END.</center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>JUST PUBLISHED</h4>
+
+
+<h2>THE RAT-PIT</h2>
+
+<h3>By <span class="sc">Patrick MacGill</span>, Author of
+"Children of the Dead End." Crown 8vo.
+Price 6/-. Inland Postage 5d. extra.</h3>
+
+<p>"Children of the Dead End" came
+upon the literary world as something
+of a surprise; it dealt with a phase of life about which nothing was
+known. It was compared with the work of
+Borrow and Kipling. Incidentally three editions,
+aggregating 10,000 copies, were called for within
+fifteen days. In his new book Mr. MacGill still
+deals with the underworld he knows so well.
+He tells of a life woven of darkest threads, full
+of pity and pathos, lighted up by that rare and
+quaint humour that made his first book so attractive.
+"The Rat-Pit" tells the story of an Irish
+peasant girl brought up in an atmosphere of
+poverty, where the purity of the poor and the
+innocence of maidenhood stand out in simple
+relief against a grim and sombre background.
+Norah Ryan leaves her home at an early age, and
+is plunged into a new world where dissolute and
+heedless men drag her down to their own miry
+level. Mr. MacGill's lot has been cast in strange
+places, and every incident of his book is pregnant
+with a vivid realism that carries the conviction
+that it is a literal transcript from life, as in fact
+it is. Only last summer, just before he enlisted,
+Mr. MacGill spent some time in Glasgow reviving
+old memories of its underworld. His characters
+are mostly real persons, and their sufferings, the
+sufferings of women burdened and oppressed with
+wrongs which women alone bear, are a strong
+indictment against a dubious civilisation.</p>
+
+<center>HERBERT JENKINS LD., <span class="sc">12 Arundel Place, London, S.W.</span></center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>10,000 COPIES CALLED FOR IN 10 DAYS.</h4>
+
+<h2>CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END</h2>
+
+<p>The Autobiography of a Navvy. By <span class="sc">Patrick
+MacGill</span>. Crown 8vo. Price 6/-. Inland Postage 5d. extra.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Manchester Gdn.</span> "A grand book."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Globe</span> "A living story."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">D. Citizen</span> "Still booming!"</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Standard</span> "A notable book."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Saturday Review</span> "An achievement."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Bookman</span> "Something unique."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Outlook</span> "A remarkable book."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Bystander</span> "A human document."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Country Life</span> "A human document."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Truth</span> "Intensely interesting."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Ev. Standard</span> "A thrilling achievement."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">D. Telegraph</span> "Will have a lasting value."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Pall Mall Gaz.</span> "Nothing can withstand it."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Sphere</span> "The book has genius in it."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Bookman</span> "A poignantly human book."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">English Review</span> "A wonderful piece of work."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Graphic</span> "An enthralling slice of life."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">D. Sketch</span> "A book that will make a stir."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Athenćum</span> "We welcome such books as this."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Ill. London News</span> "An outstanding piece of work."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">D. Chronicle</span> "Tremendous, absorbing, convincing."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Rev. of Reviews</span> "The book is not merely notable&mdash;it is remarkable."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">La Stampa</span> "Un nuovo grande astro della litteratura inglese."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">D. Express</span> "Will be one of the most talked-of books of the year."</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Spectator</span> "A book of unusual interest, which we cannot but praise."</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<center>HERBERT JENKINS, LD. <span class="sc">12 Arundel Place, London, S.W.</span></center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h4><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></h4>
+
+<h2>SONGS OF THE DEAD END</h2>
+
+<h3 class="sc">POEMS BY PATRICK MacGILL</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Remarkable."&mdash;<i>Daily Express</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Work of real genius."&mdash;<i>Bookman</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a remarkable book."&mdash;<i>Graphic</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"He can do things, can our navvy poet."&mdash;<i>The Clarion</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"This extraordinary man of the people."&mdash;<i>Public Opinion</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"The greatest poet since Kipling."&mdash;<span class="sc">James Douglas</span>, in <i>The Star</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Verses of remarkable vigour, variety and ability."&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"MacGill's work is taking the literary world by storm."&mdash;<i>Morning Leader</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"His poems show a power of direct observation and of
+strong emotion."&mdash;<i>Spectator</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"We are at a loss to understand what manner of youth
+he is."&mdash;<i>Manchester Guardian</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"The author has a very considerable gift."&mdash;<span class="sc">Andrew
+Lang</span>, in <i>Illustrated London News</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a life which has been an Odyssey, the picturesque
+life a tone poet can weather through as Mr. MacGill has
+done."&mdash;<i>Book Monthly</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"The traits of an ardent, fearless personality, expressed
+in words of fire, are here again in all their lyrical richness.... The
+poet says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>'I sing my songs to you&mdash;and well,</p>
+<p>You'll maybe like them&mdash;who can tell?'</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>We do like them."&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"When, in the terse vernacular of his calling, he gives
+voice to the sorrows and impatience, the humour and the
+resignation of his workmen comrades, and lets his songs
+find their own natural bent, then at length he attains real
+lyrical strength and sincerity.... For we need
+have no hesitation in hailing Mr. MacGill as a poet."&mdash;<i>Sunday Times</i>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>40,000 SOLD IN 14 DAYS</h4>
+
+<h2>QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR</h2>
+
+<h3>Some Practical Suggestions. Illustrated
+by Diagrams by <span class="sc">Lt.-Gen. SIR ROBERT
+BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B.</span> Price 1/-
+net. Post Free by all Booksellers &#189;.</h3>
+
+<h3>FIRST REVIEWS</h3>
+
+<p><i>Daily Mail</i>.&mdash;"B.P. has a reputation which is
+second to none, and this little book is so brightly
+and cleverly written that it will be read with
+advantage by the recruit and studied with infinite
+pleasure and profit by the professional soldier."</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady's Pictorial</i>.&mdash;"Ladies who are anxious to
+give a practical present which not one of their
+soldier men-folk should disdain to accept would certainly find this acceptable."</p>
+
+<p><i>Globe</i>.&mdash;"I advise every young officer, Regular
+or Terrier, to get 'Quick Training for War' and
+study it.... It is a most sunny and stimulating book."</p>
+
+<p><i>Sporting Chronicle</i>.&mdash;"Great interest is being
+taken in Baden-Powell's book 'Quick Training for
+War' which is enjoying a tremendous boom."</p>
+
+<p><i>Daily Chronicle</i>.&mdash;"The volume is full of good
+things for every officer, N.C.O., and man in the
+British Territorial Forces, and rifle club."</p>
+
+<p><i>Daily Telegraph</i>.&mdash;"This little handbook should
+be a companion of all officers and men now training or being trained for war."</p>
+
+<center>HERBERT JENKINS LD., <span class="sc">12 Arundel Place, London, S.W.</span></center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR</h2>
+
+<h3>FIRST REVIEWS (<i>Continued</i>).</h3>
+
+<p><i>Academy</i>.&mdash;"If books were sold on intrinsic
+value, Sir Robert Baden-Powell's little volume would be issued at a sovereign."</p>
+
+<p><i>Sporting Life</i>.&mdash;"Should be studied by every
+man who is entering the service of his country or contemplates doing so."</p>
+
+<p><i>Spectator</i>.&mdash;"In heartily commending General
+Baden-Powell's little book to the trainers of the New Army we should like," etc.</p>
+
+<p><i>Athenćum</i>.&mdash;"Sir Robert's hundred pages teem
+with evidence of how common-sense helps."</p>
+
+<p><i>Truth</i>.&mdash;"Will prove a valuable gift to those
+who have answered the appeal of the War Office."</p>
+
+<p><i>Sunday Times</i>.&mdash;"The book should be in the
+knapsack of every recruit in the New Army."</p>
+
+<p><i>Daily Express</i>.&mdash;"A copy ought to be in the
+pocket of every officer and man in the new armies."</p>
+
+<p><i>Daily Sketch</i>.&mdash;"Every young officer, N.C.O.
+and private should have a copy."</p>
+
+<p><i>Morning Post</i>.&mdash;"As instructive as it is interesting."</p>
+
+<p><i>Saturday Review</i>.&mdash;"A manual of great good sense."</p>
+
+<p><i>Daily Graphic</i>.&mdash;"It is concentrated wisdom."</p>
+
+<p><i>Observer</i>.&mdash;"Clear and persuasive to a degree."</p>
+
+<center>HERBERT JENKINS LD., <span class="sc">12 Arundel Place, London, S.W.</span></center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>SIR JOHN FRENCH</h2>
+
+<h3>AN AUTHENTIC BIOGRAPHY By CECIL CHISHOLM, M.A. With a
+Portrait of Sir John French by His Son,
+J.R.L. French. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. Price 1/- net. Postage 3d. extra.</h3>
+
+<p>"Capital."&mdash;<i>Globe</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A very excellent character study."&mdash;<i>Daily News</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent little book."&mdash;<i>Westminster Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"An admirable story of the Field-Marshal's life."&mdash;<i>Academy</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A book which everyone should read at the present moment."&mdash;<i>Field</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A welcome and admirable little volume in every way."&mdash;<i>Observer</i>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>ATKINS AT WAR</h2>
+
+<h3>As Told in His Own Letters. By J.A. KILPATRICK. With a Cover Design
+by SIR R. BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B.
+Cloth. Price 1/- net. Postage 3d. extra.</h3>
+
+<p>"A human document."&mdash;<i>Globe</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A human document."&mdash;<i>Graphic</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure of a wide circulation."&mdash;<i>Nation</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A veritable human document."&mdash;<i>Bookman</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A capital little book."&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"A book that throbs with life."&mdash;<i>Daily Call</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Kilpatrick has performed a public service."&mdash;<i>Evening Standard</i>.</p>
+
+<center>HERBERT JENKINS LD., <span class="sc">12 Arundel Place, London, S.W.</span></center>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Amateur Army
+
+Author: Patrick MacGill
+
+Release Date: June 16, 2005 [EBook #16078]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ARMY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger,
+William Flis, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AMATEUR ARMY
+
+BY PATRICK MACGILL
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END
+
+THE RAT-PIT
+
+[Illustration: RIFLEMAN PATRICK MACGILL]
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET LONDON S.W. MCMXV
+
+
+
+
+_Wyman & Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading._
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+I am one of the million or more male residents of the United Kingdom,
+who a year ago had no special yearning towards military life, but who
+joined the army after war was declared. At Chelsea I found myself a
+unit of the 2nd London Irish Battalion, afterwards I was drilled into
+shape at the White City and training was concluded at St. Albans,
+where I was drafted into the 1st Battalion. In my spare time I wrote
+several articles dealing with the life of the soldier from the stage
+of raw "rooky" to that of finished fighter. These I now publish in
+book form, and trust that they may interest men who have joined the
+colours or who intend to take up the profession of arms and become
+members of the great brotherhood of fighters.
+
+                                                     PATRICK MACGILL.
+
+  "The London Irish,"
+  British Expeditionary Force,
+  _March 25th_, 1915.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                         PAGE
+  CHAPTER I
+
+  I ENLIST AND AM BILLETED                                13
+
+  CHAPTER II
+
+  RATIONS AND SICK PARADE                                 23
+
+  CHAPTER III
+
+  PICKETS AND SPECIAL LEAVE                               36
+
+  CHAPTER IV
+
+  OFFICERS AND RIFLES                                     48
+
+  CHAPTER V
+
+  THE COFFEE-SHOP AND WANKIN                              60
+
+  CHAPTER VI
+
+  THE NIGHT SIDE OF SOLDIERING                            71
+
+  CHAPTER VII
+
+  DIVISIONAL EXERCISE AND MIMIC WARFARE                   85
+
+  CHAPTER VIII
+
+  THE GENERAL INSPECTION AND THE EVERLASTING WAITING      99
+
+  CHAPTER IX
+
+  READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES                       111
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+I ENLIST AND AM BILLETED
+
+
+What the psychological processes were that led to my enlisting in
+"Kitchener's Army" need not be inquired into. Few men could explain
+why they enlisted, and if they attempted they might only prove that
+they had done as a politician said the electorate does, the right
+thing from the wrong motive. There is a story told of an incident that
+occurred in Flanders, which shows clearly the view held in certain
+quarters. The Honourable Artillery Company were relieving some
+regulars in the trenches when the following dialogue ensued between a
+typical Tommy Atkins and an H.A.C. private:
+
+T.A.: "Oo are you?"
+
+H.A.C.: "We're the H.A.C."
+
+T.A.: "Gentlemen, ain't yer?"
+
+H.A.C.: "Oh well, in a way I suppose--"
+
+T.A.: "'Ow many are there of yer?"
+
+H.A.C.: "About eight hundred."
+
+T.A.: "An' they say yer volunteered!"
+
+H.A.C.: "Yes, we did."
+
+T.A.: (With conviction as he gathers together his kit). "Blimey, yer
+must be mad!"
+
+For curiosity's sake I asked some of my mates to give me their reasons
+for enlisting. One particular friend of mine, a good-humoured Cockney,
+grinned sheepishly as he replied confidentially, "Well, matey, I done
+it to get away from my old gal's jore--now you've got it!" Another
+recruit, a pale, intelligent youth, who knew Nietzsche by heart,
+glanced at me coldly as he answered, "I enlisted because I am an
+Englishman." Other replies were equally unilluminating and I desisted,
+remembering that the Germans despise us because we are devoid of
+military enthusiasm.
+
+The step once taken, however, we all set to work to discover how we
+might become soldiers with a minimum of exertion and inconvenience to
+ourselves. During the process I learned many things, among others
+that I was a unit in the most democratic army in history; where Oxford
+undergraduate and farm labourer, Cockney and peer's son lost their
+identity and their caste in a vast war machine. I learned that Tommy
+Atkins, no matter from what class he is recruited, is immortal, and
+that we British are one of the most military nations in the world. I
+have learned to love my new life, obey my officers, and depend upon
+my rifle; for I am Rifleman Patrick MacGill of the Irish Rifles, where
+rumour has it that the Colonel and I are the only two _real_ Irishmen
+in the battalion. It should be remembered that a unit of a rifle
+regiment is known as rifleman, not private; we like the term rifleman,
+and feel justly indignant when a wrong appellation plays skittles with
+our rank.
+
+The earlier stages of our training took place at Chelsea and the White
+City, where untiring instructors strove to convince us that we were
+about the most futile lot of "rookies" that it had ever been their
+misfortune to encounter. It was not until we were unceremoniously
+dumped amidst the peaceful inhabitants of a city that slumbers in the
+shadow of an ancient cathedral that I felt I was in reality a soldier.
+
+Here we were to learn that there is no novelty so great for the newly
+enlisted soldier as that of being billeted, in the process of which he
+finds himself left upon an unfamiliar door-step like somebody else's
+washing. He is the instrument by which the War Office disproves that
+"an Englishman's home is his castle." He has the law behind him;
+but nothing else--save his own capacity for making friends with his
+victims.
+
+If the equanimity of English householders who are about to have
+soldiers billeted upon them is a test of patriotism, there may well be
+some doubts about the patriotic spirit of the English middle class in
+the present crisis. The poor people welcome to their homes soldiers
+who in most cases belong to the same strata of society as themselves;
+and, besides, ninepence a night as billet-fee is not to be laughed
+at. The upper class can easily bear the momentary inconvenience of
+Tommy's company; the method of procedure of the very rich in regard to
+billeting seldom varies--a room, stripped of all its furniture, fitted
+with beds and pictures, usually of a religious nature, is given up
+for the soldiers' benefit. The lady of the house, gifted with that
+familiar ease which the very rich can assume towards the poor at a
+pinch--especially a pinch like the present, when "all petty class
+differences are forgotten in the midst of the national crisis"--may
+come and talk to her guests now and again, tell them that they are
+fine fellows, and give them a treat to light up the heavy hours that
+follow a long day's drill in full marching order. But the middle
+class, aloof and austere in its own seclusion, limited in means and
+apartment space, cannot easily afford the time and care needed for the
+housing of soldiers. State commands cannot be gainsaid, however, and
+Tommy must be housed and fed in the country which he will shortly go
+out and defend in the trenches of France or Flanders.
+
+The number of men assigned to a house depends in a great measure on
+the discretion of the householder and the temper of the billeting
+officer. A gruff reply or a caustic remark from the former sometimes
+offends; often the officer is in a hurry, and at such a time
+disproportionate assortment is generally the result. A billeting
+officer has told me that fifty per cent. of the householders whom he
+has approached show manifest hostility to the housing of soldiers. But
+the military authorities have a way of dealing with these people. On
+one occasion an officer asked a citizen, an elderly man full of paunch
+and English dignity, how many soldiers could he keep in his house.
+"Well, it's like this--," the man began.
+
+"Have you any room to spare here?" demanded the officer.
+
+"None, except on the mat," was the caustic answer.
+
+"Two on the mat, then," snapped the officer, and a pair of tittering
+Tommies were left at the door.
+
+Matronly English dignity suffered on another occasion when a sergeant
+inquired of a middle-aged woman as to the number of men she could
+billet in her house.
+
+"None," she replied. "I have no way of keeping soldiers."
+
+"What about that apartment there?" asked the N.C.O. pointing to the
+drawing-room.
+
+"But they'll destroy everything in the room," stammered the woman.
+
+"Clear the room then."
+
+"But they'll have to pass through the hall to get in, and there are so
+many valuable things on the walls--"
+
+"You've got a large window in the drawing-room," said the officer;
+"remove that, and the men will not have to pass through the hall. I'll
+let you off lightly, and leave only two."
+
+"But I cannot keep two."
+
+"Then I'll leave four," was the reply, and four were left.
+
+Sadder than this, even, was the plight of the lady and gentleman at
+St. Albans who told the officer that their four children were just
+recovering from an attack of whooping cough. The officer, being a
+wise man and anxious about the welfare of those under his care, fled
+precipitately. Later he learned that there had been no whooping cough
+in the house; in fact, the people who caused him to beat such a hasty
+retreat were childless. He felt annoyed and discomfited; but about a
+week following his first visit he called again at the house, this time
+followed by six men.
+
+"These fellows are just recovering from whooping cough," he told the
+householder; "they had it bad. We didn't know what to do with them,
+but, seeing that you've had whooping cough here, I feel it's the only
+place where it will be safe to billet them." And he left them there.
+
+But happenings like these were more frequent at the commencement of
+the war than now. Civilians, even those of the conventional middle
+class, are beginning to understand that single men in billets, to
+paraphrase Kipling slightly, are remarkably like themselves.
+
+With us, rations are served out daily at our billets; our landladies
+do the cooking, and mine, an adept at the culinary art, can transform
+a basin of flour and a lump of raw beef into a dish that would make an
+epicurean mouth water. Even though food is badly cooked in the billet,
+it has a superior flavour, which is never given it in the boilers
+controlled by the company cook. Army stew has rather a notorious
+reputation, as witness the inspired words of a regimental poet--one of
+the 1st Surrey Rifles--in a paean of praise to his colonel:
+
+  "Long may the colonel with us bide,
+    His shadow ne'er grow thinner.
+  (It would, though, if he ever tried
+    Some Army stew for dinner.)"
+
+Billeting has gained for the soldier many friends, and towns that have
+become accustomed to his presence look sadly forward to the day when
+he will leave them for the front, where no kind landlady will be at
+hand to transform raw beef and potatoes into beef pudding or potato
+pie. The working classes in particular view the future with misgiving.
+The bond of sympathy between soldier and workers is stronger than that
+between soldier and any other class of citizen. The houses and manners
+of the well-to-do daunt most Tommies. "In their houses we feel out
+of it somehow," they say. "There's nothin' we can talk about with the
+swells, and 'arf the time they be askin' us about things that's no
+concern of theirs at all."
+
+Most toilers who have no friends or relations preparing for war
+have kinsmen already in the trenches--or on the roll of honour. And
+feelings stronger than those of friendship now unite thousands of
+soldiers to the young girls of the houses in which they are billeted.
+For even in the modern age, that now seems to voice the ultimate
+expression of man's culture and advance in terrorism and destruction,
+love and war, vital as the passion of ancient story, go hand in hand
+up to the trenches and the threat of death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+RATIONS AND SICK PARADE
+
+
+It has been said that an army moves upon its stomach, and, as if in
+confirmation of this, the soldier is exhorted in an official pamphlet
+"Never to start on a march with an empty stomach." To a hungry
+rifleman the question of his rations is a matter of vital importance.
+For the first few weeks our food was cooked up and served out on the
+parade ground, or in the various gutter-fringed sheds standing in
+the vicinity of our headquarters. The men were discontented with the
+rations, and rumour had it that the troops stationed in a neighbouring
+village rioted and hundreds had been placed under arrest.
+
+Sometimes a haunch of roast beef was doled out almost raw, and
+potatoes were generally boiled into pulp; these when served up looked
+like lumps of wet putty. Two potatoes, unwashed and embossed with
+particles of gravel, were allowed to each man; all could help
+themselves by sticking their fingers into the doughy substance and
+lifting out a handful, which they placed along with the raw "roast" on
+the lid of their mess-tin. This constituted dinner, but often rations
+were doled out so badly that several men only got half the necessary
+allowance for their meals.
+
+Tea was seldom sufficiently sweetened, and the men had to pay for
+milk. After a time we became accustomed to the Epsom Salts that a
+kindly War Office, solicitous for our well-being, caused to be added,
+and some of us may go to our graves insisting on Epsom Salts with tea.
+The feeding ground being in many cases a great distance from the fire,
+the tea was cold by the time it arrived at the men's quarters. Those
+who could afford it, took their food elsewhere: the restaurants in
+the vicinity did a roaring trade, and several new ones were opened. A
+petition was written; the men signed it, and decided to send it to
+the colonel; but the N.C.O.'s stepped in and destroyed the document.
+"You'll not do much good at the front," they told us, "if you are
+grumbling already."
+
+A week followed the destruction of the petition, and then appeared the
+following in Battalion Orders: "From to-morrow until further orders,
+rations will be issued at the men's billets." This announcement caused
+no little sensation, aroused a great deal of comment, and created a
+profound feeling of satisfaction in the battalion. Thenceforth rations
+were served out at the billets, and the householders were ordered
+to do the cooking. My landlady was delighted. "Not half feeding you;
+that's a game," she said. "And you going to fight for your country!
+But wait till you see the dishes I'll make out of the rations when
+they come."
+
+The rations came. In the early morning a barrow piled with eatables
+was dragged through our street, and the "ration fatigue" party, full
+of the novelty of a new job, yelled in chorus, "Bring out your dead,
+ladies; rations are 'ere!"
+
+"What have you got?" asked my landlady, going to the door. "What are
+you supposed to leave for the men? Nothing's too good for them that's
+going to fight for their country."
+
+"Dead rats," said the ration-corporal with a grin.
+
+"Don't be funny. What are my men to get?"
+
+"Each man a pound of fresh meat, one and a half pounds of bread, two
+taters, two ounces of sugar, and an ounce of tea and three ounces of
+cheese. And, besides this, every feller gets a tin of jam once in four
+days."
+
+This looks well on paper, but pot and plate make a difference in the
+proposition. Army cheese runs to rind rapidly, and a pound of beef is
+often easily bitten to the bone: sometimes, in fact, it is all
+bone and gristle, and the ravages of cooking minimise its bulk in
+a disheartening way. One and a half pound of bread is more than the
+third of a big loaf, but minus butter it makes a featureless repast.
+Breakfast and tea without butter and milk does not always make a
+dainty meal.
+
+Even the distribution of rations leaves much to be desired; the
+fatigue party, well-intentioned and sympathetic though it be, often
+finds itself short of provisions. This may in many cases be due to
+unequal distribution; an ounce of beef too much to each of sixteen men
+leaves the seventeenth short of meat. This may easily happen, as the
+ration party has never any means of weighing the food: it is nearly
+always served out by guesswork. But sometimes the landladies help in
+the distribution by bringing out scales and weighing the provisions.
+One lady in our street always weighed the men's rations, and saw that
+those under her care got the exact allowance. Never would she take any
+more than her due, and never less. But a few days ago, when weighing
+sugar and tea, a blast of wind upset the scales, and a second
+allowance met with a similar fate. Sugar and tea littered the
+pavement, and finally the woman supplied her soldiers from the
+household stores. She now leaves the work of distribution in the hands
+of the ration party, and takes what is given to her without grumbling.
+
+The soldiers' last meal is generally served out about five o'clock
+in the afternoon, sometimes earlier; and a stretch of fourteen hours
+intervenes between then and breakfast. About nine o'clock in
+the evening those who cannot afford to pay for extras feel their
+waist-belts slacken, and go supperless to bed. And tea is not a very
+substantial meal; the rations served out for the day have decreased in
+bulk, bread has wasted to microscopic proportions, and the cheese has
+diminished sadly in size. A regimental song, pent with soldierly woes,
+bitterly bemoans the drawbacks of Tommy's tea:
+
+  "Bread and cheese for breakfast,
+    For dinner Army stew,
+  But when it comes to tea-time
+    There's dough and rind for you,
+        So you and me
+        Won't wait for tea--
+    We're jolly big fools if we do."
+
+But those who do not live in billets, and whose worldly wealth fails
+to exceed a shilling a day, must be content with Army rations, with
+the tea tasting of coom, and seldom sweetened, with the pebble-studded
+putty potato coated in clay, with the cheese that runs to rind at
+last parade, and, above all, with the knowledge that they are merely
+inconvenienced at home so that they may endure the better abroad.
+
+There is another school of theorists that states that an army moves,
+not upon its stomach, but upon its feet, the care of which is of vital
+importance. This, too, finds confirmation in the official pamphlet,
+which tells the soldier to "Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound
+foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is," etc.
+
+My right foot had troubled me for days; a pain settled in the arch of
+the instep, and caused me intense agony when resuming the march after
+a short halt; at night I would suddenly awake from sleep to experience
+the sensation of being stabbed by innumerable pins in ankle and toes.
+Marching in future, I felt, would be a monstrous futility, and I
+decided that my case was one for the medical officer.
+
+Sick parade is not restricted by any dress order; the sore-footed
+may wear slippers; the sore-headed, Balaclava helmets; puttees can be
+discarded; mufflers and comforters may be used. "The sick rabble" is
+the name given by the men to the crowd that waits outside the door of
+the M.O.'s room at eight in the morning. And every morning brings its
+quota of ailing soldiers; some seriously ill, some slightly, and a few
+(as may be expected out of a thousand men of all sorts and conditions)
+who have imaginary or feigned diseases that will so often save
+"slackers" from a hard day's marching. The aim and ambition of these
+latter seem to be to do as little hard work as possible; some of them
+attend sick parade on an average once a week, and generally obtain
+exemption from a day's work. To obtain this they resort to several
+ruses; headaches and rheumatic pains are difficult to detect, and the
+doctor must depend on the private's word; a quick pulse and heightened
+temperature is engendered by a brisk run, and this is often a means
+towards a favourable medical verdict--that is, when "favourable" means
+a suspension of duties.
+
+At a quarter to eight I stood with ten others in front of the M.O.'s
+door, on which a white card with the blue-lettered "No Smoking"
+stood out in bold relief. The morning was bitterly cold, and a sharp,
+penetrating wind splashed with rain swept round our ears, and chilled
+our hands and faces. One of the waiting queue had a sharp cough and
+spat blood; all this was due, he told us, to a day's divisional
+field exercise, when he had to lie for hours on the wet ground
+firing "blanks" at a "dummy" enemy. Another sick soldier, a youth of
+nineteen, straight as a lance and lithe as a poplar, suffered from
+ulcer in the throat. "I had the same thing before," he remarked in a
+thin, hoarse voice, "but I got over it somehow. This time it'll maybe
+the hospital. I don't know."
+
+An orderly corporal filled in admission forms and handed them to us;
+each form containing the sick man's regimental number, name, religion,
+age, and length of military service, in addition to several other
+minor details having no reference at all to the matter in hand. These
+forms were again handed over to another orderly corporal, who stood
+smoking a cigarette under the blue-lettered notice pinned to the door.
+
+The boy with the sore throat was sitting in a chair in the room when I
+entered, the doctor bending over him. "Would you like a holiday?" the
+M.O. asked in a kindly voice.
+
+"Where to, sir?"
+
+"A couple of days in hospital would leave you all right, my man," the
+M.O. continued, "and it would be a splendid rest."
+
+"I don't want a rest," answered the youth. "Maybe I'll be better in
+the morning, sir."
+
+The doctor thought for a moment, then:
+
+"All right, report to-morrow again," he said. "You're a brave boy.
+Some, who are not the least ill, whine till one is sick--what's the
+matter with you?"
+
+"Sore foot, sir," I said, seeing the M.O.'s eyes fixed on me.
+
+"Off with your boot, then."
+
+I took off my boot, placed my foot on a chair, and had it inspected.
+
+"What's wrong with it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. It pains me when marching, and sometimes--"
+
+"Have you ever heard that Napoleon said an army marches on its
+stomach?"
+
+"Yes, sir, when the feet of the army is all right," I answered.
+
+"Quite true," he replied. "No doubt you've sprained one of yours;
+just wash it well in warm water, rub it well, and have a day or two
+resting. That will leave you all right. Your boots are good?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"They don't pinch or--what's wrong with you?" He was speaking to the
+next man.
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+"Don't know? You don't know why you're here. What brought you here?"
+
+"Rheumatic pains, I think, sir," was the answer. "Last night I 'ad an
+orful night. Couldn't sleep. I think it was the wet as done it. Lyin'
+out on the grass last field day--"
+
+"How many times have you been here before?"
+
+"Well, sir, the last time was when--"
+
+"How many times?"
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+"Was it rheumatic pains last time?"
+
+"No sir, it was jaw-ache--toothache, I mean."
+
+"I'll put you on light duties for the day," said the M.O. And the
+rheumatic one and I went out together.
+
+"That's wot they do to a man that's sick," said the rheumatic one when
+we got outside. "Me that couldn't sleep last night, and now it's light
+duties. I know what light duties are. You are to go into the orderly
+room and wash all the dishes: then you go and run messages, then you
+'old the orficer's horse and then maybe when you're worryin' your own
+bit of grub they come and bundle you out to sweep up the orficers'
+mess, or run an errand for the 'ead cook and bottle-washer. Light
+duties ain't arf a job. I'm blowed if marchin' in full kit ain't ten
+times better, and I'm going to grease to the battalion parade."
+
+Fifteen minutes later I met him leaving his billet, his haversack
+on the wrong side, his cartridge pouches open, the bolt of his gun
+unfastened; his whole general appearance was a discredit to his
+battalion and a disgrace to the Army. I helped to make him presentable
+as he bellowed his woes into my ear. "No bloomin' grub this mornin',"
+he said. "Left my breakfast till I'd come back, and 'aven't no time
+for it now. Anyway I'm going out on the march; no light duties for me.
+I know what they are." He was still protesting against the hardships
+of things as he swung out of sight round the corner of the street.
+Afterwards I heard that he got three days C.B. for disobeying the
+orders of the M.O.
+
+Save for minor ailments and accident, my battalion is practically
+immune from sickness; colds come and go as a matter of course, sprains
+and cuts claim momentary attention, but otherwise the health of the
+battalion is perfect. "We're too healthy to be out of the trenches,"
+a company humorist has remarked, and the company and battalion agrees
+with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+PICKETS AND SPECIAL LEAVE
+
+
+One of the first things we had to learn was that our ancient cathedral
+town has its bounds and limits for the legions of the lads in khaki.
+Beyond a certain line, the two-mile boundary, we dare not venture
+alone without written permission, and we can only pass the limit in a
+body when led by a commissioned officer.
+
+The whole world, with the exception of the space enclosed by this
+narrow circle, is closed to the footsteps of Tommy; he cannot now
+visit his sweetheart, his sweetheart must come and visit him. The
+housemaid from Hammersmith and the typist from Tottenham have to come
+to their beaux in billets, and as most of the men in our town are
+single, and nearly all have sweethearts, it is estimated that five
+or six thousand maidens blush to hear the old, old story within the
+two-mile limit every week-end.
+
+Once only every month is a soldier allowed week-end leave, and then
+he has permission to be absent from his billet between the hours of
+3 p.m. on Saturday and 10 p.m. on Sunday. His pass states that during
+this time he is not liable to be arrested for desertion. Some men use
+one pass for quite a long period, and alter the dates to suit every
+occasion.
+
+One Sunday, when returning from week-end leave, I travelled from
+London by train. My compartment was crowded with men of my division,
+and only one-half of these had true passes; one, who was an adept
+calligraphist, wrote his own pass, and made a counterfeit signature
+of the superior who should have signed the form of leave. Another had
+altered the dates of an early pass so cleverly that it was difficult
+to detect the erasure, and a number of men had no passes whatsoever.
+These boasted of having travelled to London every week-end, and they
+had never been caught napping.
+
+Passes were generally inspected at the station preceding the one to
+which we were bound. My travelling companions were well aware of this,
+and made preparations to combat the difficulty in front; two crawled
+under the seats, and two more went up on the racks, where they lay
+quiet as mice, stretched out at full length and covered over with
+several khaki overcoats. One man, a brisk Cockney, who would not deign
+to roost or crawl, took up his position as far away as possible from
+the platform window.
+
+"Grease the paper along as quick as you know 'ow and keep the picket
+jorin' till I'm safe," he remarked as the train stopped and a figure
+in khaki fumbled with the door handle.
+
+"Would you mind me lookin' at passes, mateys?" demanded the picket,
+entering the compartment. The man by the door produced his pass, the
+one he had written and signed himself; and when it passed inspection
+he slyly slipped it behind the back of the man next him, and in the
+space of three seconds the brisk Cockney had the forged permit of
+leave to show to the inspector. The men under the seat and on the
+racks were not detected.
+
+Every station in our town and its vicinity has a cordon of pickets,
+the Sunday farewell kisses of sweethearts are never witnessed by the
+platform porter, as the lovers in khaki are never allowed to see
+their loves off by train, and week-end adieux always take place at
+the station entrance. Some time ago the pickets allowed the men to
+see their sweethearts off, but as many youths abused the privilege and
+took train to London when they got on the platform, these kind actions
+have now become merely a pleasing memory.
+
+Pickets seem to crop up everywhere; on one bus ride to London, a
+journey of twenty miles, I have been asked to show my pass three
+times, and on a return journey by train I have had to produce the
+written permit on five occasions. But some units of our divisions soar
+above these petty inconveniences, as do two brothers who motor home
+every Sunday when church parade comes to an end.
+
+When these two leave church after divine service, a car waits them at
+the nearest street corner, and they slip into it, don trilby hats and
+civilian overcoats, and sweep outside the restricted area at a haste
+that causes the slow-witted country policeman to puzzle over the speed
+of the car and forget its number while groping for his pocket-book.
+
+It has always been a pleasure to me to follow for hours the winding
+country roads looking out for fresh scenes and new adventures. The
+life of the roadside dwellers, the folk who live in little stone
+houses and show two flower-pots and a birdcage in their windows, has
+a strange fascination for me. When I took up my abode here and got my
+first free Sunday afternoon, I shook military discipline aside for a
+moment and set out on one of my rambles.
+
+There comes a moment on a journey when something sweet, something
+irresistible and charming as wine raised to thirsty lips, wells up in
+the traveller's being. I have never striven to analyse this feeling or
+study the moment when it comes, and that feeling has been often mine.
+Now I know the moment it floods the soul of the traveller. It is at
+the end of the second mile, when the limbs warm to their work and the
+lungs fill with the fresh country air. At such a moment, when a man
+naturally forgets restraint to which he has only been accustomed for
+a short while, I met the picket for the first time. He told me to
+turn--and I went back. But it was not in my heart to like that picket,
+and I shall never like him while he stands there, sentry of the
+two-mile limit; an ogre denying me entrance into the wide world that
+lies beyond.
+
+There is one thing, however, before which the picket is impotent--a
+pass. It is like a free pardon to a convict; it opens to him the whole
+world--that is for the period it covers. The two most difficult things
+in military life are to obtain permit of absence from billets, and the
+struggle against the natural impulse to overstay the limit of leave.
+There are times when soldiers experience an intense longing to see
+their own homes, firesides, and friends, and in moments like these it
+takes a stiff fight to overcome the desire to go away, if only for a
+little while, to their native haunts. Only once in five weeks may a
+man obtain a week-end pass--if he is lucky. To the soldier, luck is
+merely another word for skill.
+
+With us, the rifleman who scores six successive "bulls" at six hundred
+yards on the open range has been lucky; if he speaks nicely to the
+quartermaster and obtains the best pair of boots in the stores, he has
+been lucky; if by mistake he is given double rations by the fatigue
+party he is lucky; but if the same man, sweating over his rifle in
+a carnival of "wash-outs," or, weary of blistered feet and empty
+stomach, asks for sympathy because his rifle was sighted too low or
+because he lost his dinner while waiting on boot-parade, we explain
+that his woes are due to a caper of chance--that he has been unlucky.
+To obtain a pass at any time a man must be lucky; obtaining one when
+he desires it most is a thing heard of now and again, and getting a
+pass and not being able to use it is of common occurrence. Now, when I
+applied for special leave I was more than a little lucky.
+
+It was necessary that I should attend to business in London, and I set
+about making application for a permit of leave. I intended to apply
+for a pass dating from 6 p.m. of a Friday evening to 10 p.m. of the
+following Sunday. On Wednesday morning I spoke to a corporal of my
+company.
+
+"If you want leave, see the platoon sergeant," he told me. The platoon
+sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke harshly when I approached
+him. "No business of mine!" he said; "the company clerk will look into
+the matter."
+
+But I had no success with the company clerk; the leave which I desired
+was a special one, and that did not come under his jurisdiction. "The
+orderly sergeant knows more about this business than I do. Go to him
+about it," he said.
+
+By Wednesday evening I spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked
+puzzled for a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said.
+"He'll know more about this matter than I do, and he'll see into it.
+But it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't
+like to give it."
+
+"Why?" I asked.
+
+"Why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? You're paid
+here to do what you're told, not to ask questions."
+
+The lieutenant was courteous and civil. "I can't do anything in the
+matter," he said. "The orderly sergeant will take you to the company
+officer, Captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you."
+
+"If you're lucky," said the sergeant in a low whisper. About eight
+o'clock in the evening I paraded in the long, dimly-lighted passage
+that leads to our company orderly-room, and there I had to wait two
+hours while the captain was conducting affairs of some kind or another
+inside. When the door was opened I was ordered inside.
+
+"Quick march! Left turn! Halt!" ordered the sergeant as I crossed the
+threshold, and presently I found myself face to face with our company
+commander, who was sitting by a desk with a pile of papers before him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, fixing a pair of stern eyes on me, and I
+explained my business with all possible despatch.
+
+"Of course you understand that everything is now subservient to your
+military duties; they take premier place in your new life," said the
+officer. "But I'll see what I can do. By myself I am of little help.
+However, you can write out a pass telling the length of time you
+require off duty, and I'll lay it before the proper authorities."
+
+I wrote out the "special pass," which ran as follows:
+
+"Rifleman ---- has permission to be absent from his quarters from
+6 p.m. (date) to 10 p.m. (date), for the purpose of proceeding to
+London."
+
+I came in from a long march on Thursday evening to find the pass
+signed, stamped, and ready. On the following night I could go to
+London, and I spent the evening 'phoning, wiring, and writing to town,
+arranging matters for the day ahead. Also, I asked some friends to
+have dinner with me at seven o'clock on Friday night.
+
+Next day we had divisional exercise, which is usually a lengthy
+affair. In the morning I approached the officer and asked if I might
+be allowed off parade, seeing I had to set out for London at six
+o'clock in the evening.
+
+"Oh! we shall be back early," I was told, "back about three or
+thereabouts."
+
+The day was very interesting; the whole division, thousands of men,
+numberless horses, a regiment of artillery, and all baggage and
+munition for military use took up position in battle formation. In
+front lay an imaginary army, and we had to cross a river to come
+into contact with it. Engineers, under cover of the artillery,
+built pontoon bridges for our crossing; on the whole an intensely
+interesting and novel experience. So interesting indeed that I lost
+all count of time, and only came to consciousness of the clock and
+remembrance of friends making ready for dinner when some one remarked
+that the hour of four had passed, and that we were still five miles
+from home.
+
+I got to my billet at six; there I flung off my pack, threw down my
+rifle, and in frenzied haste consulted a railway timetable. A slow
+train was due to leave our town at five minutes to seven. I arranged
+my papers, made a brief review of matters which would come before me
+later, and with muddy boots and heavy heart I arrived at the station
+at seven minutes to seven and took the slow train for London.
+
+When I told the story of my adventures at dinner a soldier friend
+remarked: "You've been more than a little lucky in getting away at
+all. I was very unlucky when I applied--"
+
+But his story was a long one, and I have forgotten it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+OFFICERS AND RIFLES
+
+
+As I have said, I have learned among other things to obey my officers
+and depend upon my rifle. At first the junior officers appeared to me
+only as immaculate young men in tailor-made tunics and well-creased
+trousers, wearing swords and wrist-watches, and full of a healthy
+belief in their own importance. My mates are apt to consider them
+as being somewhat vain, and no Tommy dares fail to salute the young
+commissioned officers when he meets them out with their young ladies
+on the public streets. For myself, I have a great respect for them and
+their work; day and night they are at their toil; when parade comes to
+an end, and the battalion is dismissed for the day, the officers, who
+have done ten or twelve hours' of field exercise, turn to their desks
+and company accounts, and time and again the Last Post sees them busy
+over ledgers, pamphlets, and plans.
+
+Accurate and precise in every detail, they know the outs and ins of
+platoon and company drill, and can handle scores and hundreds of men
+with the ease and despatch of artists born to their work. Where
+have these officers, fresh youngsters with budding moustaches and
+white, delicate hands, learned all about frontage, file, flank,
+and formation, alignment, echelon, incline, and interval? Words of
+direction and command come so readily from their lips that I was
+almost tempted to believe that they had learned as easily as they
+taught, that their skill in giving orders could only be equalled by
+the ease with which I supposed they had mastered the details of their
+work. Later I came to know of the difficulty that confronts the young
+men, raw from the Officers' Training Corps, when they take up their
+preliminary duties as commanders of trained soldiers. No "rooky" fresh
+to the ranks is the butt of so many jokes and such biting sarcasm as
+the young officer is subjected to when he takes his place as a leader
+of men.
+
+Soon after my arrival in our town a score of young lieutenants came
+to our parade ground, accompanied by two commanders, a keen-eyed
+adjutant, brisk as a bell, and a white-haired colonel with very thin
+legs, and putties which seemed to have been glued on to his shins. The
+young gentlemen were destined for various regiments, and most of them
+were fresh and spotless in their new uniforms. Some wore Glengarry
+bonnets, kilts, and sporrans, some the black ribbons of Wales; one,
+whose hat-badge proclaimed the Dublin Fusilier, was conspicuous by the
+eyeglass he wore, and others were still arrayed in civilian garb, the
+uniform of city and office life. Several units of my battalion were
+taken off to drill in company with the strange officers. I was one of
+the chosen.
+
+The young men took us in hand, acting in turn as corporals, platoon
+sergeants, and company commanders. The gentleman with the eyeglass had
+charge of my platoon, and from the start he cast surreptitious glances
+at a little red brochure which he held in his hand, and mumbled words
+as if trying to commit something to memory.
+
+"Get to your places," the adjutant yelled to the officers. "Hurry up!
+Don't stand there gaping as if you're going to snap at flies. We've
+got to do some work. There's no hay for those who don't work. Come on,
+Weary, and drill your men; you with the eyeglass, I mean! I want you
+to put the company through some close column movements."
+
+The man with the eyeglass took up his position, and issued some order,
+but his voice was so low that the men nearest him could not hear the
+command.
+
+"Shout!" yelled the adjutant. "Don't mumble like a flapper who has
+just got her first kiss. It's not allowed on parade."
+
+The order was repeated, and the voice raised a little.
+
+"Louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant. Then with fine irony: "These
+men are very interested in what you've got to tell them.... I don't
+think."
+
+Eyeglass essayed another attempt, but stopped in the midst of his
+words, frozen into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant.
+
+"For heaven's sake, try and speak up," the adjutant said. "If you
+don't talk like a man, these fellows won't salute you when they meet
+you in the street with your young lady. On second thoughts, you had
+better go back and take up the job of platoon sergeant. Come on,
+Glengarry, and try and trumpet an order."
+
+Glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a sturdy youth with sloping
+shoulders, took up his post nervously.
+
+"A close column forming column of fours," he cried in a shrill treble,
+quoting the cautionary part of his command. "Advance in fours from the
+right; form fours--right!"
+
+"Form fours--where?" roared the adjutant.
+
+"Left," came the answer.
+
+"Left, your grandmother! You were right at first. Did you not know
+that you were right?... Where's Eyeglass, the platoon sergeant, now?
+Who's pinched him?"
+
+This unfortunate officer had dropped his eyeglass, and was now groping
+for it on the muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search.
+
+Other officers took up the job of company commander in turn, and all
+suffered. One, who was a dapper little fellow, speedily earned the
+nickname of "Tailor's Dummy;" another, when giving a platoon the
+wrong direction in dressing, was told to be careful, and not shove the
+regiment over. A third, a Welshman, with the black ribbons, got angry
+with a section for some slight mistake made by two of its number, and
+was told to be careful and not annoy the men. He had only got them on
+appro'.
+
+Spick and span in their new uniforms, they came to drill daily on our
+parade ground. Slowly the change took place. They were "rookies" no
+longer, and the adjutant's sarcasm was a thing of the past. Commands
+were pronounced distinctly and firmly; the officers were trained men,
+ready to lead a company of soldiers anywhere and to do anything.
+
+No man who has trained with the new armies can be lacking in respect
+for the indefatigable N.C.O., upon whom the brunt of the work has
+fallen. With picturesque scorn and sarcasm he has formed huge armies
+out of the rawest of raw material, and all in a space of less than
+half a year. His methods are sometimes strange and his temper short;
+yet he achieves his end in the shortest time possible. He is for ever
+correcting the same mistakes and rebuking the same stupidity, and the
+wonder is, not that he loses his temper, but that he should ever be
+able to preserve it. He understands men, and approaches them in an
+idiom that is likely to produce the best results.
+
+"Every man of you has friends of some sort," said the musketry
+instructor, as we formed up in front of him on the parade ground,
+gripping with nervous eagerness the rifles which had just been served
+out from the quartermaster's stores. We were recruits, raw "rookies,"
+green to the grind, and chafing under discipline. "And some sort of
+friends it would be as well as if you never met them," the instructor
+continued. "They'd play you false the minute they'd get your back
+turned. But you've a friend now that will always stand by you and play
+you fair. Just give him a chance, and he'll maybe see you out of many
+a tight corner. Now, who is this friend I'm talking about?" he asked,
+turning to a youth who was leaning on his rifle. "Come, Weary, and
+tell me."
+
+"The rifle," was the answer.
+
+"The crutch?"
+
+"No, the rifle."
+
+"I see that, boy, I see that! But, damn it, don't make a crutch of it.
+You're a soldier now, my man, and not a crippled one yet."
+
+Thus was the rifle introduced to us. We had long waited for its
+coming, and dreamt of cross-guns, the insignia of a crack shot's
+proficiency, while we waited. And with the rifle came romance, and the
+element of responsibility. We were henceforward fighting men,
+numbered units, it was true, with numbered weapons, but for all that,
+fighters--men trained to the trade and licensed to the profession.
+
+Our new friend was rather a troublesome individual to begin with. In
+rising to the slope he had the trick of breaking free and falling on
+the muddy barrack square. A muddy rifle gets rusty, and brings its
+owner into trouble, and a severe penalty is considered meet for the
+man who comes on parade with a rusty rifle. Bringing the friend from
+the slope to the order was a difficult process for us recruits at the
+start the back-sight tore at the fingers, and bleeding hands often
+testified to the unnatural instinct of the rebellious weapon. But the
+unkindest kick of all was given when the slack novice fired the first
+shot, and the heel of the butt slipped upwards and struck the jaw.
+Then was learnt the first real lesson. The rifle kicks with the heel
+and aims for the jaw. Control your friend, humour him; keep him well
+in hand and beware his fling.
+
+I was unlucky in my first rifle practice on the miniature range,
+and out of my first five shots I did not hit the target once. The
+instructor lay by my side on the waterproof ground-sheet (the day was
+a wet one, and the range was muddy) and lectured me between misses on
+the peculiarities of my weapon and the cultivation of a steady eye.
+
+"Keep the beggar under control," he said. "You've got to coax him, and
+not use force. Pull the trigger easily, as though you loved it, and
+hold the butt affectionate-like against the shoulder. It's an easy
+matter to shoot as you're shooting now. There's shooting and shooting,
+and you've got to shoot straight. If you don't you're no dashed good!
+Give me the rifle, you're not aiming at the bull, man, you're aiming
+at the locality where the bull is grazing."
+
+He took my rifle, slid a cartridge into the breech, and coaxed the
+trigger lovingly towards him. Three times he fired, then we went
+together to look at the target. Not a bullet fired by him had struck
+it. The instructor glared down the barrel of the gun, made some
+nasty remarks about deflection, and went back to yell at an orderly
+corporal.
+
+"What the dickens did you take this here for?" he cried. "It's a
+blooming wash-out,[1] and was never any good. Old as an unpaid bill
+and worn bell-mouth it is, and nobody can fire with it."
+
+[Footnote 1: "Wash-out" is a term used by the men when their firing is
+so wide of the mark that it fails to hit any spot on the card. The men
+apply it indiscriminately to anything in the nature of a failure.]
+
+On a new rifle being obtained I passed the preliminary test, and a
+rather repentant instructor remarked that it might be possible to make
+a soldier of me some day.
+
+Since then my fellow-soldiers and I have had almost unlimited rifle
+practice, on miniature and open ranges, at bull and disappearing
+targets, in field firing at distances from 100 to 600 yards. On a
+field exceeding 600 yards it is almost impossible to hit a point
+the size of an ordinary bull; fire then must be directed towards a
+position. Field or volley firing is very interesting. Once my company
+took train to Dunstable and advanced on an imaginary enemy that
+occupied the wastes of the Chiltern Hills. Practice commenced by
+firing at little squares of iron standing upright in a row about 200
+yards off in front of our line. These represented heads and shoulders
+of men rising over the trenches to take aim at us as we advanced. In
+extended order we came to our position, 200 yards distant from the
+front trenches. At the sound of the officer's whistle, we sank to
+the ground, facing our front, fixed our sights, and loaded. A second
+whistle was blown; we fired "three rounds rapid" at the foe. The
+aiming was very accurate; little spurts of earth danced up and around
+the targets, and every iron disc fell. The "searching ground," the
+locality struck by bullets, scarcely measured a dozen paces from front
+to rear, thus showing that there was very little erratic firing.
+
+"That's some shooting!" my Jersey friend remarked. "If the discs were
+Germans!"
+
+"They might shoot back," someone said, "and then we mightn't take as
+cool an aim."
+
+We are trained to the rifle; it is always with us, on parade,
+on march, on bivouac, and recently, when going through a dental
+examination, we carried our weapons of war into the medical officer's
+room. As befits units of a rifle regiment, we have got accustomed
+to our gun, and now, as fully trained men, we have established the
+necessary unity between hand and eye, and can load and unload our
+weapon with butt-plate stiff to shoulder and eye steady on target
+while the operation is in progress. In fact, our rifle comes to hand
+as easy as a walking-stick. We shall be sorry to lose it when the war
+is over, and no doubt we shall feel lonely without it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE COFFEE-SHOP AND WANKIN
+
+
+What the pump is to the villager, so the coffee-shop is to the soldier
+of the New Army. Here the men crowd nightly and live over again the
+incidents of the day. Our particular coffee-shop is situated in our
+corner of the town; our men patronise it; there are three assistants,
+plump, merry girls, and three of our men have fallen in love with
+them; in short, it is our very own restaurant, opened when we came
+here, and adapted to our needs; the waitresses wear our hat-badges,
+sing our songs, and make us welcome when we cross the door to take up
+our usual chairs and yarn over the cosy tables. The Jersey youth
+with the blue eyes, the Oxford man, who speaks of things that humble
+waitresses do not understand, the company drummer, the platoon
+sergeants, and the Cockney who vows that water is spoilt in making
+every cup of coffee he drinks, all come here, and all love the place.
+
+I have come to like the place and do most of my writing there,
+catching snatches of conversation and reminiscence as they float
+across to me.
+
+"I wasn't meanin' to 'urt ole Ginger Nobby nohow, but the muck I
+throwed took 'im dead on the jor. 'Wot's yer gime?' 'e 'ollers at me.
+'Wot's my gime?' I says back to 'im. 'Nuffin', if ye want ter know!' I
+says. 'I was just shyin' at squidges.'"
+
+Thus spoke the bright-eyed Cockney at the table next me, gazing
+regretfully at his empty coffee-cup and cutting away a fringe of
+rag-nails from his finger with a clasp-knife. The time was eight
+o'clock of the evening, and the youth was recounting an adventure
+which he had had in the morning when throwing mud at sparrows on the
+parade ground. A lump of clay had struck a red-haired non-commissioned
+officer on the jaw, and the officer became angry. The above was the
+Cockney version of the story. One of my friends, an army unit with the
+Oxford drawl, was voluble on another subject.
+
+"Russian writers have had a great effect on our literature," he said,
+deep in a favourite topic. "They have stripped bare the soul of man
+with a realism that shrivels up our civilisation and proves--Two
+coffees, please."
+
+A tall, well-set waitress, with several rings on her fingers, took the
+order as gravely as if she were performing some religious function;
+then she turned to the Cockney.
+
+"Cup of cawfee, birdie!" he cried, leaning over the table and trying
+to grip her hand. "Not like the last, mind; it was good water spoilt.
+I'll never come in 'ere again."
+
+"So you say!" said the girl, moving out of his way and laughing
+loudly.
+
+"Strike me balmy if I do!"
+
+"Where'll yer go then?"
+
+"Round the corner, of course," was the answer. "There's another bird
+there--and cawfee! It's some stuff too, not like 'ere."
+
+"All right; don't come in again if yer don't want ter."
+
+The Cockney got his second cup of coffee and pronounced it inferior to
+the first; then looked at an evening paper which Oxford handed to him,
+and studied a photograph of a battleship on the front page.
+
+"Can't stand these 'ere papers," he said, after a moment, as he got
+to his feet and lit a cigarette. "Nuffink but war in them always; I'm
+sick readin' about war! I saw your bit in one a couple of nights ago,"
+he said, turning to me.
+
+"What did you think of it?" I asked, anxious to hear his opinion on an
+article dealing with the life of his own regiment.
+
+"Nuffink much," he answered, honestly and frankly. "Everything you say
+is about things we all know; who wants to 'ear about them? D'ye get
+paid for writin' that?"
+
+One of his mates, a youth named Bill, who came in at that moment,
+overheard the remark.
+
+"Paid! Of course 'e gets paid," said the newcomer. "Bet you he gets
+'arf a crown for every time 'e writes for the paper."
+
+All sorts and conditions of soldiers drift into the place and discuss
+various matters over coffee and mince pies; they are men of all
+classes, who had been as far apart as the poles in civil life, and are
+now knit together in the common brotherhood of war. Caste and estate
+seem to have been forgotten; all are engaged in a common business,
+full of similar risks, and rewarded by a similar wage.
+
+In one corner of the room a game of cards was in progress, some
+soldiers were reading, and a few writing letters. Now and again a song
+was heard, and a score of voices joined in the chorus. The scene was
+one of indescribable gaiety; the temperament of the assembly was like
+a hearty laugh, infectious and healthy. Now and then a discussion took
+place, and towards the close of the evening hot words were exchanged
+between Bill and his friend, the bright-eyed Cockney.
+
+"I'll give old Ginger Nobby what for one day!" said the latter.
+
+"Will you? I don't think!"
+
+"Bet yer a bob I will!"
+
+"You'd lose it."
+
+"Would I?"
+
+"Straight you would!"
+
+"Strike me pink if I would!"
+
+"You know nothin' of what you're sayin'."
+
+"Don't I?"
+
+"Git!"
+
+"Shut!"
+
+In the coffee-shop Wankin is invariably the centre of an interested
+group. As the company scapegrace and black sheep of the battalion he
+occupies in his mates' eyes a position of considerable importance. His
+repartees are famous, and none knows better than he how to score off
+an unpopular officer or N.C.O. He has the distinction also of having
+spent more days in the guard-room than any other man in the battalion.
+
+On the occasion when identity discs were being served out to the men
+and a momentary stir pervaded the battalion, it was Wankin who first
+became involved in trouble.
+
+He employed the disc string to fasten the water-bottle of the man
+on his left to the haversack of the man on his right, and the
+colour-sergeant, livid with rage, vowed to chasten him by confining
+him eternally to barracks. But the undaunted company scapegrace was
+not to be beaten. Fastening the identity disc on his left eye he fixed
+a stern look on the sergeant.
+
+"My deah fellah," he drawled out, imitating the voice of the company
+lieutenant who wears an eyeglass, "your remarks are uncalled for,
+really. By Jove! one would think that a scrap of string was a gold
+bracelet or a diamond necklace. I could buy the disc and the string
+for a bloomin' 'apenny."
+
+"You'll pay dearly for it this time," said the colour with fine irony.
+"Three days C.B.[2] your muckin' about'll cost you." And before Wankin
+could reply the sergeant was reporting the matter to the captain.
+
+[Footnote 2: Confinement to Barracks.]
+
+Wankin is eternally in trouble, although his agility in dodging
+pickets and his skill in making a week's C.B. a veritable holiday are
+the talk of the regiment. All the officers know him, and many of them
+who have been victims of his smart repartee fear him more than
+they care to acknowledge. The subaltern with the eyeglass is a bad
+route-marcher, and Wankin once remarked in an audible whisper that
+the officer had learned his company drill with a drove of haltered
+pack-horses, and the officer bears the name of "Pack-horse" ever
+since.
+
+On another occasion the major suffered when a battalion kit inspection
+took place early one December morning. Wankin had sold his spare pair
+of boots, the pair that is always kept on top of the kit-bag; but when
+the major inspected Wankin's kit the boots were there, newly polished
+and freed from the most microscopic speck of dust. Someone tittered
+during the inspection, then another, and the major smelt a rat. He
+lifted Wankin's kit-bag in his hand and found Wankin's feet tucked
+under it--Wankin's feet in stockinged soles. The major was justly
+indignant. "One step to the front, left turn," he roared. "March in
+front of every rank in the battalion and see what you think of it!"
+
+With stockinged feet, cold, but still wearing an inscrutable smile of
+impudence, Wankin paraded in front of a thousand grinning faces and in
+due course got back to his kit and beside the sarcastic major.
+
+"What do you think of it?" asked the latter.
+
+"I don't think much of it, sir," Wankin replied. "It's the dirtiest
+regiment I ever inspected."
+
+Wankin was sometimes unlucky; fortune refused to favour him when he
+took up the work of picket on the road between St. Albans and London.
+No unit of his regiment is supposed to go more than two miles
+beyond St. Albans without a written permit, and guards are placed at
+different points of the two-mile radius to intercept the regimental
+rakes whose feet are inclined to roving. Wankin learned that the
+London road was not to be guarded on a certain Sunday. The regiment
+was to parade for a long route-march, and all units were to be in
+attendance. Wankin pondered over things for a moment, girt on his belt
+and sword and took up his position on the London road within a hundred
+yards of a wayside public-house. At this tavern a traveller from St.
+Albans may obtain a drink on a Sabbath day.
+
+Soldiers, like most mortals, are sometimes dry and like to drink;
+Wankin was often dry and Wankin had seldom much money to spend. The
+first soldier who came out from the town wanted to get to the tavern.
+
+"Can't pass here!" the mock-picket told him.
+
+"But I'm dry and I've a cold that catches me awful in the throat."
+
+"Them colds are dangerous," Wankin remarked in a contemplative voice,
+tinged with compassion. "Used to have them bad myself an' I feel one
+coming on. I think gin, same as they have in the trenches, is the
+stuff to put a cold away. But I'm on the rocks."
+
+"If you'll let me through I'll stand on my hands."
+
+"It's risky," said Wankin, then in a brave burst of bravado he said,
+"Damn it all! I'll let you go by. It's hard to stew dry so near the
+bar!" An hour later the young man set off towards home, and on his way
+he met two of his comrades-in-arms on the road.
+
+"Going to ---- pub?" he inquired.
+
+"Going to see that no one does go near it," was the answer. "Picket
+duty for the rest of the day, we are."
+
+"But Wankin--"
+
+"What?"
+
+The young man explained, and shortly afterwards Wankin went to
+headquarters under an armed escort. Three days later I saw his head
+sticking out through the guard-room window, and at that time I had not
+heard of the London road escapade.
+
+"Here on account of drink?" I asked him.
+
+"You fool," he roared at me. "Do you think I mistook this damned place
+for the canteen?"
+
+I like Wankin and most of his mates like him. We feel that when
+detention, barrack confinement and English taverns will be things
+of yesterday, Wankin will make a good and trustworthy friend in the
+trenches.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE NIGHT SIDE OF SOLDIERING
+
+
+There are three things in military life which make a great appeal to
+me; the rifle's reply to the pull of the trigger-finger, the gossip of
+soldiers in the crowded canteen, and the onward movement of a thousand
+men in full marching order with arms at the trail. And at no time is
+this so impressive as at night when with rifles held in a horizontal
+position by the side, the arm hanging easily from the shoulder, we
+march at attention in complete silence. Not a word is spoken by anyone
+save officers, little is heard but the dull crunch of boots on the
+gravel and the rustle of trenching-tool handles as they rub against
+trousers or haversack. Seen from a flank at the rear, the moving
+battalion, bending round the curve or straining to a hill, looks
+like the plesiosaur of the picture shown in the act of dragging its
+cumbrous length along. The silence is full of mystery, the gigantic
+mass, of which you form so minute a unit, is entirely voiceless, a
+dumb thing without a tongue, brooding, as it were, over some eternal
+sorrow or ancient wrong to which it cannot give expression. Marching
+thus at night, a battalion is doubly impressive. The silent monster is
+full of restrained power; resolute in its onward sweep, impervious to
+danger, it looks a menacing engine of destruction, steady to its goal,
+and certain of its mission.
+
+A march like this fell to our lot once every fortnight. At seven in
+the evening, loaded with full pack, bayonet, haversack, ground-sheet,
+water-bottle, overcoat, and rifle, we would take our way from the town
+out into the open country. The night varied in temper--sometimes it
+rained; again, it froze and chilled the ears and finger-tips; and
+once we marched with the full moon over us, lighting up the whole
+county--the fields, the woods, the lighted villages, the snug
+farmhouses, and the grey roads by which the long line of khaki-clad
+soldiers went on their way. That night was one to be remembered.
+
+We went off from the parade ground, a thousand strong, along the
+sloping road that sweeps down the hill on which our town is built.
+Giggling girls watched us depart--they are ever there when the
+soldiers are on the move--old gentlemen and ladies wished us luck as
+we passed, but never a head of a thousand heads turned to the left
+or right, never a tongue replied to the cheery greetings; we were
+marching at attention, with arms at the trail.
+
+The sky stood high, splashed with stars, and the moon, pinched and
+anaemic, hung above like a whitish speck of smoke that had curled into
+a ball. Marching at the rear, I could see the long brown line
+curving round a corner ahead, the butt-plates of the rifles sparkling
+brightly, the white trenching-tool handles shaking backward and
+forward at every move of the men.
+
+"March easy!"
+
+Half an hour had passed, and we were now in the open country. At
+the word of command rifles were slung over the shoulders, and the
+battalion found voice, first in brisk conversation and exchange
+of witticisms, then in shouting and song. We have escaped from the
+tyranny of "Tipperary," none of us sing it now, but that doggerel is
+replaced by other music-hall abominations which are at present in the
+full glory of their rocket-reign. A parody of a hymn, "Toiling on," is
+also popular, and my Jersey mate gave it full vent on the left.
+
+  "Lager beer! lager beer!
+  There's a lager beer saloon across the way.
+  Lager bee-ee-eer!
+  Is there any lager beer to give away."
+
+Although the goddess of music forgot me in the making, I found myself
+roaring out the chorus for all I was worth along with my Jersey
+friend.
+
+"You're singing some!" he remarked, sarcastically, when the chorus
+came to an end. "But, no wonder! This night would make a brass monkey
+sing. It's grand to be alive!"
+
+Every battalion has its marching songs. One of the favourites with us
+was written by a certain rifleman in "C" Company, sung to the air of
+"Off to Philadelphia in the Morning." It runs:
+
+  "It is said by our commanders that in trenches out by Flanders
+  There is work to do both trying and exciting,
+  And the men who man the trenches, they are England's men and
+          French's
+  Where the legions of the khaki-clad are fighting.
+  Though bearing up so gaily they are waiting for us daily,
+  For the fury of the foemen makes them nervous,
+  But the foe may look for trouble when we charge them at the double,
+  We, the London Irish out on active service.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    "With our rifles on our shoulder, sure there's no one could be
+          bolder,
+    And we'll double out to France when we get warnin'
+    And we'll not stop long for trifles, we're the London Irish
+          Rifles,
+    When we go to fight the Germans in the mornin'.
+
+  "An' the girls: oh it will grieve them when we take the train and
+          leave them,
+  Oh! what tears the dears will weep when we are moving,
+  But it's just the old, old story, on the path that leads to Glory,
+  Sure we cannot halt for long to do our loving.
+  They'll see us with emotion all departing o'er the ocean,
+  And every maid a-weepin' for her lover;
+  'Good-bye' we'll hear them callin', while so many tears are fallin'
+  That they'd almost swamp the boat that takes us over.
+
+_Chorus._
+
+    "With our rifles," etc.
+
+Our colonel sang this song at a concert, thus showing the democratic
+nature of the New Army, where a colonel sings the songs written in the
+ranks of his own battalion.
+
+At the ten minutes' halt which succeeded the first hour's march,
+my Jersey friend spoke to me again. "Aren't there stars!" he said,
+turning his face to the heavens and gripping his rifle tightly as if
+for support. His wide open eyes seemed to have grown in size, and were
+full of an expression I had never seen in them before. "I like the
+stars," he remarked, "they're so wonderful. And to think that men are
+killing each other now, this very minute!" He clanked the butt of his
+gun on the ground and toyed with the handle of his sword.
+
+Hour after hour passed by; under the light of the moon the country
+looked beautiful; every pond showed a brilliant face to the heavens,
+light mists seemed to hover over every farmhouse and cottage; light
+winds swept through the telegraph wires; only the woods looked dark,
+and there the trees seemed to be hugging the darkness around them.
+
+On our way back a sharp shower, charged with a penetrating cold, fell.
+The waterproof ground-sheets were unrolled, and we tied them over our
+shoulders. When the rain passed, the water falling in drops from our
+equipment glittered so brightly that it put the polished swords and
+brilliant rifle butt-plates to shame.
+
+We stole into the town at midnight, when nearly all the inhabitants
+were abed. With arms at the trail, we marched along, throwing off
+company after company, at the streets where they billeted. The
+battalion dwindled down slowly; my party came to a halt, and the order
+"Dismiss!" was given, and we went to our billets. The Jersey youth
+came with me to my doorstep.
+
+"'Twas a grand march!" he remarked.
+
+"Fine," I replied.
+
+"I can't help looking at the stars!" he said as he moved off. "There
+are a lot to-night. And to think--" He hesitated, with the words
+trembling on his tongue, realising that he was going to repeat
+himself. "Anyway, there's some stars," he said in a low voice. "Good
+night!"
+
+There is a peculiar glamour about all night work. The importance of
+night manoeuvring was emphasised in the South African War, and we had
+ample opportunities of becoming accustomed to the darkness. On one
+occasion at about nine o'clock we swung out from the town with our
+regimental pipe-band playing to pursue some night operations. So far
+the men did not know what task had been assigned to them.
+
+"We've got to do to-night's work as quiet as a growing mushroom,"
+someone whispered to me, as we took our way off the road and lined up
+in the field that, stretching out in front and flanks, lost itself in
+formless mistiness under the loom of the encircling hedgerows. Here
+and there in the distance trees stand up gaunt and bare, holding
+out their leafless branches as if in supplication to the grey sky; a
+slight whisper of wind moaned along the ground and died away in the
+darkness.
+
+Our officer, speaking in a low voice, gave instructions. "The enemy is
+advancing to attack us in great force," he explained, "and our scouts
+have located him some six miles away from here. We have now found that
+it is inadvisable to march on any farther, as our reinforcements
+are not very strong and have been delayed to rear. Therefore we have
+decided to take up our present position as a suitable ground for
+operations and entrenching ourselves in--ready to give battle.
+Everything now must be done very quickly. Our lives will, perhaps,
+depend at some early date on the quickness with which we can hide
+ourselves from the foe. So; dig your trench as quickly as possible, as
+quickly, in fact, as if your life depended on it. Work must be done
+in absolute silence; no smoking is allowed, no lighting of matches, no
+talk.
+
+"A word about orders. Commands are not to be shouted, but will be
+passed along from man to man, and none must speak above his breath.
+The passing of messages along in this manner is very difficult; words
+get lost, and unnecessary words are added in transit. But I hope
+you'll make a success of the job. Now we'll see how quickly we can get
+hidden!"
+
+A "screen" of scouts (one man to every fifty yards of frontage) took
+up its place in line a furlong ahead. A hundred paces to rear of the
+"screen" the officers marked out the position of the trenches, placing
+soldiers as markers on the imaginary alignment. In front lay a clear
+field of fire, a deadly area for an enemy advancing to the attack.
+
+We took off our equipment, hafted the entrenching tools which we
+always carry, and bent to our work in the wet clay. The night was
+close and foggy, the smell of the damp earth and the awakening spring
+verdure filled our nostrils. In the distance was heard the rumbling of
+trains, the jolting of wagons along the country road, the barking of
+dogs, and clear and musical through all these sounds came the song of
+a mavis or merle from the near hedgerows.
+
+In the course of ten minutes we were sweating at our work, and several
+units of the party took off their tunics. One hapless individual got
+into trouble immediately. His shirt was not regulation colour, it was
+spotlessly white and visible at a hundred yards. A whispered order
+from the officer on the left faltered along the line of diggers.
+
+"Man with white shirt, put on his tunic!"
+
+The order was obeyed in haste, the white disappeared rapidly as the
+arms of the culprit slid into sleeves, and the covering tunic hid his
+wrong from the eyes of man.
+
+The night wore on. Now and again a clock in the town struck out the
+time with a dull, weary clang that died away in the darkness. On both
+sides I could see stretching out, like some gigantic and knotted
+rope, the row of bent workers, the voiceless toilers, busy with their
+labours. Picks rose into the air, remained poised a moment, then sank
+to tear the sluggish earth and pull it apart. The clay was thrown out
+to front and rear, and scattered evenly, so that the natural contour
+of the ground might show no signs of man's interference. And even as
+we worked the section commanders stole up and down behind us, urging
+the men to make as little sound as possible--our safety depended on
+our silence. But pick and shovel, like the rifle, will sing at their
+toil, and insistent and continuous, as if in threat, they rasped out
+the almost incoherent song of labour.
+
+A man beside me suddenly laid down his shovel and battled with a cough
+that strove to break free and riot in the darkness. I could see his
+face go purple, his eyes stare out as if endeavouring to burst from
+their sockets. Presently he was victor, and as he bent to his shovel
+again I heard him whisper huskily, "'Twas a stiff go, that; it almost
+floored me."
+
+Thrown from tongue to tongue as a ball is thrown in play, a message
+from the captain on the flank hurried along the living line. "Close in
+on the left," was the order, and we hastened to obey. Trenching tools
+were unhafted and returned to their carriers, equipments were donned
+again, belts tightened, and shoulder-straps buttoned. Singly, in
+pairs, and in files we hurried back to the point of assembly, to find
+a very angry captain awaiting us.
+
+"I am very disappointed with to-night's work," he said. "I sent
+five messages out; two of them died on the way; a third reached its
+destination, but in such a muddled condition that it was impossible to
+recognise it as the one sent off. The order to cease work was the only
+one that seemed to hurry along. Out at the front, where all orders
+are passed along the trenches in this manner, it is of the utmost
+importance that every word is repeated distinctly, and that no
+order miscarries. Even out there, it is found very difficult to send
+messages along."
+
+The captain paused for a moment; then told a story. "It is said that
+an officer at the front gave out the following message to the men in
+the trenches: 'In the wood on the right a party of German cavalry,'
+and when the message travelled half a mile it had changed to: 'German
+Navy defeated in the North Sea.' We don't know how much truth there
+is in the story, but I hope we will not make a mistake like that out
+there."
+
+Lagging men were still stealing in as we took up our places in columns
+of fours. A clock struck out the hour of twelve, and the bird in
+the hedgerow was still singing as we marched out to the roadway, and
+followed our merry pipers home to town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DIVISIONAL EXERCISE AND MIMIC WARFARE
+
+
+Divisional exercise is a great game of make-believe. All sorts of
+liberties are taken, the clock is put forward or back at the command
+of the general, a great enemy army is created in the twinkling of an
+eye, day is turned into night and a regular game of topsy-turvydom
+indulged in. On the occasion of which I write the whole division
+was out. The time was nine o'clock in the forenoon, and an imaginary
+forced march was nearly completed, and an imaginary day was at an end.
+We were being hurried up as reinforcements to the main army, which was
+in touch with the enemy ahead and an engagement was developing. Our
+battalion came to a halt on the roadway, closing in to the left in
+order to give full play to the field telephone service in process of
+being laid.
+
+Our officers went out in front to seek a position for a bivouac; the
+doctor accompanied them to examine the place chosen, see to the
+water supply, the drainage, and sanitation. In addition to this, our
+commanders had to find the battalion a resting-ground easy to defend
+and of merit as a tactical position.
+
+At ten o'clock we lay down, battalion after battalion, just as we
+halted: equipment on, our packs unloosened but shoved up under our
+heads, and our rifles by our sides, muzzles towards the enemy. One
+word of command would bring twenty thousand men from their beds, ready
+in an instant, rifles loaded, bayonets at hips, quick to the route and
+ready for battle. We would rise, as we slept, in full marching order,
+and the space of a moment would find us hurrying, fully armed, into
+battle, with the sleep of night still heavy in our eyes.
+
+For miles around the soldiers lay down, each in his place and every
+place occupied. Hardly a word was spoken; commands were whispered, and
+our officers crept round explaining the work ahead. Two miles in front
+the enemy was assembled in great strength on a river, and by dawn, if
+all went well, we would enter the firing line. At present we had to
+lie still; no man was to move about, and sentries with fixed bayonets
+were stationed at front, flank, and rear, ready to give the alarm at
+the first sign of danger.
+
+Behind us were the kitchen, horse-lines, and latrines. The position of
+these varies as the wind changes, and it is imperative that unhealthy
+odours are not blown across the bivouac. The battalion lay in two
+parallel squares, with a gangway, blocked up with baggage and various
+necessaries, between. On these squares no refuse was to be thrown
+down; the ground had to be kept clean; papers, scraps of meat, and
+pieces of bread, if not eaten, had to be buried.
+
+Even as we lay, and while the officers were explaining the work in
+hand, the artillery took up its stand on several wooded knolls that
+rose behind us. What a splendid sight, the artillery going into
+action! Heavy guns, an endless line of them, swept over the greensward
+and rattled into place. Six horses strained at each gun, which was
+accompanied by two ammunition wagons with six horses to each wagon.
+How many horses! How many guns! Out of nowhere in particular they
+came, and disappeared as if behind a curtain barely four hundred
+yards away. Thirty minutes afterwards I fancied as I looked in their
+direction that I could see black, ominous muzzles peering through
+the undergrowth. Probably I was mistaken. Anyhow, they were there,
+guarding us while we slept, our silent watchers!
+
+About eleven o'clock an orderly stole in and spoke to the colonel, a
+hurried consultation in which all the officers took part was held,
+and the messenger departed. Again followed an interval of silence,
+only broken by the officers creeping round and giving us further
+information. The enemy was repulsed, they told us, and was now in
+retreat, but before moving off he had blown up all the bridges on
+the river. The artillery of our main army in front was shelling the
+fleeing foe, and our engineers had just set off to build three pontoon
+bridges, so that the now sleeping division could cross at dawn and
+follow the army in retreat.
+
+Our dawn came at one o'clock in the afternoon; a whistle was blown
+somewhere near at hand, and the battalion sprang to life; every unit,
+with pack on back, cartridge pouches full, rifle at the order, was
+afoot and ready. Only two hours before had the engineers set out to
+build the bridges which the whole division, with its regiment after
+regiment, with its artillery, its guns, ammunition wagons and horses,
+its transport section, and vehicles of all descriptions, was now to
+cross. The landscape had changed utterly, the country was alive, and
+had found voice; the horse-lines were broken, and all the animals,
+from the colonel's charger to the humble pack horse, were on the move.
+The little squares, dotted brown, had taken on new shape, and were
+transformed into companies of moving men in khaki. We were out on the
+heels of the retreating foe.
+
+Two hours' forced marching brought us to the river, a real one, with
+three pontoon bridges, newly built and held firm on flat-bottomed
+boats moored in mid-stream. We took our way across, and bent to the
+hill on the other side. Half-way up, in a narrow lane, a wagon got
+stuck in the front of our battalion, and we were forced to come to a
+halt for a moment. Looking back, I could see immediately behind three
+lines of men straining to the hill; farther back the same lines were
+crossing the bridges and, away in the far distance, pencilled brown on
+the ploughed fields, the three lines of khaki crawled along like long
+threads endlessly unwinding from some invisible ball. Now and again
+I could see the artillery coming into sight, only to disappear again
+over a wooded knoll or into an almost invisible hollow.
+
+Thus the division, the apparently limitless lines of men, horses, and
+guns crawled on the track of the fleeing enemy. As we stood there,
+held in check by the wagon, and as I looked back at the thousands of
+soldiers in the rear, I felt indeed that I was a minute mite amongst
+the many. And then a second thought struck me. The whole mass of men
+around me was a small thing in relation to the numbers engaged in
+the great war. Even I, Rifleman Something or Another, No. So-and-so,
+bulked larger in the division as one of its units than the division
+did in the war as a unit of the Allied Forces.
+
+Even more interesting than divisional exercises is the mimic
+warfare that is heralded by a notice in battalion orders such as the
+following: "The battalion will take part in brigade exercise to-day.
+Ten rounds of blank ammunition and haversack rations will be carried."
+
+At eight o'clock in the morning whistles were blown at the bottom of
+the street in which my company is billeted, and the soldiers, rubbing
+the sleep from their eyes or munching the last mouthful of a hasty
+breakfast, came trooping out from the snug middle-class houses
+in which they are quartered. The morning was bitterly cold, and
+the falling rain splashed soberly on the pavement, every drop
+coming slowly to ground as if selecting a spot to rest on. The
+colour-sergeant, standing at the end of the street, whistle in hand,
+was in a nasty temper.
+
+"Hurry up, you heavy-footed beggars," he yelled to the men. "The
+parade takes place to-day, not to-morrow! And you, what's wrong with
+your understandings?" he called to a man who came along wearing carpet
+slippers.
+
+"My boots are bad, colour," is the answer. "I cannot march in them."
+
+"And are you goin' to march in them drorin'-room abominations?" roared
+the sergeant. "Get your boots mended and grease out of it."
+
+At roll-call three of the company were found to be absent; two were
+sick, and one who had been found guilty of using bad language to a
+N.C.O. was confined to the guard-room. Those who answered their names
+were served out with packets of blank ammunition, one packet per man,
+and each containing ten cartridges wrapped in brown paper and tied
+with a blue string.
+
+The captain read the following instructions: "The enemy is reported
+to be in strong force on X hill, and Battalions A and B are ordered
+to dislodge him from that position. A will form first line of attack,
+B will send up reserves and supports as needed." The rifles were
+examined by our young lieutenant, after which inspection the company
+joined the battalion, and presently a thousand men with rifles on
+shoulder, bayonets and haversacks on left hip, and ammunition in
+pouches, were marching through the rain along the muddy streets, out
+into the open country.
+
+The day promised to be an interesting one from my point of view; I had
+never taken part in a mimic battle before, and the day's work was to
+be in many ways similar to operations on the real field of battle.
+"Only nobody gets killed, of course," my mate told me. He had taken
+part in this kind of work before, and was wise in his superior
+knowledge.
+
+"One-half of the brigade, two thousand men, is our enemy," he
+explained; "and we're going to fight them. The battalion that's
+helping us is on in front, and it will soon be fighting. When it's
+hard pressed we'll go up to help, for we're the supports. It won't be
+long till we hear the firing."
+
+An hour's brisk march was followed by a halt, when we were ordered
+to draw well into the left of the road to let the company guns go by.
+Dark-nosed and cold, they wheeled past, the horses sweating as they
+strained at the carriage shafts; the drivers, by deft handling,
+pulling the steeds clear of the ruts; out in front they swung, and the
+battalion closed up and resumed its march behind.
+
+The rain ceased and a cold sun shot feeble rays over the sullen
+December landscape. Again a halt was called; the brigadier-general,
+followed by two officers and several orderlies, galloped up, and a
+hurried consultation with our colonel took place. In a moment the
+battalion moved ahead only to come to a dead stop again after ten
+minutes' slow marching, and find a company detailed off to guard the
+rear. The other companies, led by their officers, turned off the road
+and moved in sections across the newly furrowed and soggy fields. A
+level sweep of December England broken only by leafless hedgerows and
+wire fencing stretched out in front towards a wooded hillock, that
+stood up black against the sky-line two miles away. The enemy held
+this wood; we could hear his guns booming and now considered ourselves
+under shell fire. Each squad of sixteen men marched in the rear or on
+the flank of its neighbour; this method of progression minimises the
+dangers of bursting shrapnel, for a shell falling in the midst of one
+body of men and causing considerable damage will do no harm to the
+adjacent party.
+
+Somewhere near us our gunners were answering the enemy's fire; but so
+well hidden were the guns that I could not locate them. We still
+crept slowly forward; section after section crawled across the black,
+ploughed fields, now rising up like giant caterpillars to the crest
+of a mound, and again dropping out of sight in the hollow land like
+corks on a comber. On our heels the ambulance corps followed with its
+stretchers, and in front the enemy was firing vigorously; over the
+belt of trees that lined the summit of the hillock little wisps of
+smoke could be seen rising and fading in the air.
+
+Suddenly we came into line with our guns hidden in a deep narrow
+cart-track, their dark muzzles trained on the enemy, and the gunners,
+knee-deep in the mire of the lane, sweating at their work. "We're
+under covering fire now," our young lieutenant explained, as we
+trudged forward, lifting enormous masses of clay on our boots at every
+step. "One battalion is engaged already; hear the shots."
+
+The rifles were barking on the left front; in a moment the reports
+from that quarter died away, and the right found voice. The men of
+the first line were in the trenches dug by us a fortnight earlier, and
+there they would remain, we knew, until their supports came to their
+aid. Already we passed several of them, who were detailed off on the
+anticipated casualty list in the morning. These wore white labels in
+their buttonholes, telling of the nature of their wounds. One label
+bore the words: "Shot in right shoulder; wound not dangerous." Another
+read: "Leg blown off," and a third ran: "Flesh wounds in arm and leg."
+These men would be taken into the care of the ambulance party when it
+arrived.
+
+When within fifteen hundred yards of the enemy, the command for
+extended order advance was given, and the section spread out in one
+long line, fronting the knoll, with five pace intervals between the
+men. We were now under rifle-fire, and all further movements forward
+were made in short sharp rushes, punctuated by halts, during which
+we lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the soft earth, and the
+rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin.
+
+Six hundred yards from the enemy's front we tumbled into the trenches
+already in possession of Battalion B, and I found myself ankle-deep in
+mire, beside a unit of another regiment who was enjoying a cigarette
+and blowing rings of smoke into the air. Although no enemy was visible
+we got the order to fire, and I discharged three rounds in rapid
+succession.
+
+"Don't fire, you fool!" said the man who was blowing the smoke rings.
+"Them blanks dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the clay from
+your clothes t'night you'll not want to muck about with your rifle.
+There's a price for copper, and I always sell my cartridge cases. The
+first time I came out I fired, but never since."
+
+Several rushes forward followed, and the penultimate hundred yards
+were covered with fixed bayonets. In this manner we were prepared for
+any surprise. The enemy replied fitfully to our fire, and we could now
+see several khaki-clad figures with white hat-bands--the differential
+symbols--moving backwards and forwards amidst the trees. Presently
+they disappeared as we worked nearer to their lines. We were now
+rushing forward, lying down to fire, rising and running only to drop
+down again and discharge another round. Within fifty yards of the
+coppice the order to charge was given. A yell, almost fiendish in its
+intensity, issued from a thousand throats; anticipation of the real
+work which is to be done some day, lent spirit to our rush. In an
+instant we were in the wood, smashing the branches with our bayonets,
+thrusting at imaginary enemies, roaring at the top of our voices, and
+capping a novel fight with a triumphant final.
+
+And our enemies? Having finished their day's work they were now
+fifteen minutes' march ahead of us on the way back to their rest and
+rations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE GENERAL INSPECTION AND THE EVERLASTING WAITING
+
+
+One of our greatest trials is the general inspection, which takes
+place every month, and once Lord Kitchener inspected the battalion, in
+company with the division quartered in our town. But that was before
+I joined. It involves much labour in the way of preparation. On one
+occasion, midnight the night before, a Friday, found us still busy
+with our work. My cot-mate was in difficulties with his rifle--the
+cloth of the pull-through stuck in the barrel, and he could not move
+it, although he broke a bamboo cane and bent a poker in the attempt.
+"It's a case for the armoury," he remarked gloomily. "What a nuisance
+that ramrods are done away with! We've been at it since eight o'clock,
+and getting along A1. Now that beastly pull-through!"
+
+What an evening's work! On the day following the brigadier-general
+was to inspect us, and we had to appear on parade spick and span, with
+rifles spotless, and every article of our equipment in good order.
+Packs were washed and hung over the rim of the table by our billet
+fire, web-belts were cleaned, and every speck of mud and grease
+removed. Our packs, when dry, were loaded with overcoat, mess-tin,
+housewife, razor, towel, etc., and packed tightly and squarely,
+showing no crease at side or bulge at corner. Ground-sheets were
+neatly rolled and fastened on top of pack, no overlapping was allowed;
+rifles were oiled and polished from muzzle to butt-plate, and swords
+rubbed with emery paper until not a single speck of rust remained.
+
+Saturday morning found us trim and tidy on the parade ground. An
+outsider would hardly dream that we were the men who had ploughed
+through the muddy countryside and sunk to the knees in the furrowed
+fields daily since the wet week began. Where was the clay that had
+caked brown on our khaki, the rust that spoilt the lustre of our
+swords, and the fringes that the wire fences tore on our tunics? All
+gone; soap and water, a brush, needle and thread, and a scrap of emery
+paper had worked the miracle. We stood easy awaiting the arrival
+of the general; platoons sized from flanks to centres (namely, the
+tallest men stood at the flanks, and the khaki lines dwindled in
+stature towards the small men in the middle), and company officers at
+front and rear. The officers saw that everything was correct, that no
+lace-ends showed from under the puttees, that no lace-eye lay idle,
+and that laces were not crossed over the boots. Each man had shaved
+and got his hair cut, his hat set straight on his head, and the
+regimental badge in proper position over the idle chin-strap.
+Pocket-flaps and tunics were buttoned, water-bottles and haversacks
+hung straight, the tops of the latter in line with the bayonet rings,
+and entrenching tool handles were scrubbed clean--my mate and I had
+spent much soap on ours the night before.
+
+One of our officers gave us instructions as to how we had to behave
+during the inspection, more especially when we were under the direct
+gaze of the general.
+
+"Not a movement," he told us. "Every eyelash must be still. If the
+general asks me your name and I make a mistake and say you are Smith
+instead of Brown, your real name, you're not to say a word. You are
+Brown for the time being. If he speaks to you, you're to answer:
+'Sir,' and 'Sir' only to every question. If you're asked what was your
+age last birthday, 'Sir' is to be the only answer. Is that clear to
+every man?"
+
+It was, indeed, clear, surprisingly clear; but we wondered at the
+command, which was new to us. To answer in this fashion appeared
+strange to us; we thought (the right to think is not denied to a
+soldier) it a funny method of satisfying a general's curiosity.
+
+He came, a tall, well-set man, with stern eyebrows and a heavy
+moustache, curled upwards after the manner of an Emperor whom we
+heartily dislike, attended by a slim brigade major, who wore a rather
+large eyeglass, and made several entries in his notebook, as he
+followed on the heels of the superior inspecting the battalion.
+
+We stood, every unit of us, sphinx-like, immovable, facing our front
+and resigned to our position. To an onlooker it might seem as if we
+were frozen there--our fingers glued on to our rifles and our feet
+firm to the earth at an angle of forty-five degrees. I stood near the
+rear, and could see the still platoons in front, not a hat moved, not
+a boot shifted. The general broke the spell when he was passing me.
+
+"Another button. There were forty-seven the last time," he said, and
+the man with the eyeglass made an entry in the notebook. Through an
+oversight, I had helped to lower the prestige of the battalion: a
+pocket flap of my tunic was unbuttoned.
+
+Kit inspection was a business apart; the general picked out several
+soldiers haphazard and ordered their packs to be opened for an
+examination of the contents--spoons, shirts, socks, and the various
+necessaries which dismounted men in full marching order must carry on
+their persons were inspected carefully. A full pack is judged best by
+its contents, and nearly all packs passed muster. One man was unlucky:
+his mate was chosen for kit inspection, but this hapless individual
+came out minus a toothbrush and comb, and the friend in need took his
+place in the freshly-formed ranks. Here, the helper found that his own
+kit was inefficient, he had forgotten to put in a pair of socks. That
+afternoon he had to do two hours' extra drill.
+
+Perhaps an even greater trial than Divisional Inspection was that of
+waiting orders when we were the victims of camp rumours. But this was
+as nothing to the false alarms. There is some doggerel known to the
+men which runs:
+
+  "We're off to the front," said the colonel,
+      as he placed us in the train,
+  "And we went at dawn from the station,
+      and at night came back again."
+
+For months we had drilled and drilled, all earnest in our labours and
+filled with enthusiasm for our new profession, and daily we await the
+order to leave for foreign parts. Where are we going to when we leave
+England? France, Egypt, or India? Rumour had it yesterday that we
+would go to Egypt; to-day my mate, the blue-eyed Jersey youth, heard
+from a friend, who heard it from a colour-sergeant, that we are going
+out to India, where we will be kept as guardians of the King's Empire
+for a matter of four years. Ever since I joined the Army it has been
+the same: reports name a new destination for my battalion daily.
+
+Afterwards we had to go and help the remarkable Russians who passed
+through England on the way to France; but when the Russians faded from
+the ken of vision and the Press Bureau denied their very existence,
+it was immediately reported that we had been drilled into shape in
+order to demolish De Wet and all his South African rebels. De Wet was
+captured and is now under military control, and still we waited orders
+to move from the comfortable billets and crowded streets of our town.
+Dry eyes would see us depart, mocking children would bid us sarcastic
+farewells, the kindly landladies and their fair daughters would laugh
+when we bade adieu and moved away to some destination unknown. We had
+already taken our farewell three times, and on each occasion we have
+come back again to our billets before the day that saw our departure
+came to an end.
+
+The heart of every man thrilled with excitement when the announcement
+was made for the first time, one weary evening when we had just
+completed a ten-hour divisional field exercise. Our officer read it
+from a typewritten sheet, and the announcement was as follows:
+
+    "All men in the battalion must stand under arms until further
+    orders. No soldier is to leave his billet; boots are not to be
+    taken off, and best marching pairs are to be worn. Every unit
+    of the company who lacks any part of the necessary equipment
+    must immediately report at quartermaster's stores, where all
+    wants will be supplied. Identity discs to be worn, swords
+    must be cleaned and polished, and twenty-four hours' haversack
+    rations are to be carried. The battalion has to entrain for
+    some unknown destination when called upon."
+
+The news spread through the town: the division was going to move! On
+the morrow we would be sailing for France, in a fortnight we would be
+in Berlin! Our landladies met us at the doors as we came in, looks of
+entreaty on their faces and tears in their eyes. The hour had come; we
+were going to leave them. And the landladies' daughters? One, a buxom
+wench of eighteen, kissed the Jersey youth in sight of the whole
+battalion, but nobody took any notice of the unusual incident. All
+were busy with their own thoughts, and eager for the new adventures
+before them.
+
+I did not go to sleep that night; booted and dressed I lay on the
+hearthrug in front of the fire, and waited for the call. About four
+o'clock in the morning a whistle was blown outside on the street;
+I got to my feet, put on my equipment, fastened the buckles of my
+haversack, bade adieu to my friends of the billet who had risen from
+bed to see me off, and joined my company.
+
+Five or six regiments were already on the move; transport wagons,
+driven by khaki-clad drivers with rifles slung over their shoulders,
+lumbered through the dimly-lighted thoroughfares; ammunition vans
+stood at every street corner; guns rattled along drawn by straining
+horses, the sweat steaming from the animals' flanks and withers;
+an ambulance party sped through the greyness of the foggy morning,
+accompanied by a Red Cross lorry piled high with chests and stretcher
+poles, and soldiers in files and fours, in companies and columns, were
+in movement everywhere--their legions seemed countless and endless.
+
+Ammunition was given out from the powder magazine; each man was handed
+150 rounds of ball cartridge--a goodly weight to carry on a long day's
+march! With our ammunition we were now properly equipped and ready for
+any emergency. Each individual carried on his person in addition to
+rifle, bayonet (sword is the military name for the latter weapon)
+and ball cartridge, a blanket and waterproof sheet, an overcoat, a
+water-bottle, an entrenching tool and handle, as well as several other
+lighter necessaries, such as shirts, socks, a knife, fork, and spoon,
+razor, soap, and towel.
+
+At eight o'clock, when the wintry dawn was breaking and the fog
+lifting, we entered the station. Hundreds of the inhabitants of the
+town came to see us off and cheer us on the long way to Tipperary: and
+Tipperary meant Berlin. One of the inhabitants, a kindly woman who is
+loved by the soldiers of my company, to whom she is very good, came
+to the station as we were leaving, and presented a pair of mittens to
+each of fifty men.
+
+The train started on its journey, puffed a feeble cloud of smoke
+into the air, and suddenly came to a dead stop. Heads appeared at
+the windows, and voices inquired if the engine-driver had taken the
+wrong turning on the road to Berlin. The train shunted back into the
+station, and we all went back to our billets again, but not before
+our officers informed us that we had done the work of entraining very
+smartly, and when the real call did come we would lose no time on the
+journey to an unknown destination.
+
+Later we had two further lessons in entraining, and we came to fear
+that when the summons did come dry eyes would watch us depart and
+sarcastic jibes make heavy our leave-taking. Indeed, some of the
+inhabitants of our town hinted that we should never leave the place
+until the local undertakers make a profit on our exit. So much for
+their gentle sarcasm! But well they knew that one day in the near
+future it would suddenly occur to our commanders to take us with them
+in the train to Berlin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES
+
+
+Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move,
+so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was
+not forthcoming.
+
+"You are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning,"
+announced my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.
+
+"How do you know?" I inquired.
+
+"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the
+troops."
+
+"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and
+splendid cooking I should miss greatly.
+
+"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A
+sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being.
+
+"The ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't
+stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady
+continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.
+
+Parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets
+and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We were weary of false
+alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. Some of us had been
+training for fully six months, others had joined the Army when war
+broke out, and we were still secure in England. "Why have we joined?"
+the men asked. "Is it to line the streets when the troops come home?
+We are a balmy regiment."
+
+One evening, Thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were
+interesting. One item ran as follows: "All fees due to billets will be
+paid up to Friday night. If any other billet expenses are incurred
+by battalion the same will be paid on application to the War Office."
+Friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements
+in orders. The following items appeared: "Mess tin covers will be
+issued to-morrow. No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the
+battalion overseas. All deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow
+morning. Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers who have not yet
+received a copy of the New Testament can have same on application at
+the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.
+
+"Where are we going?" we asked one another. Some answered saying that
+we were to help in the sack of Constantinople, others suggested Egypt,
+but all felt that we were going off to France at no very distant date.
+Was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade
+of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks
+when trying on the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested the trenches
+and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or
+the burning sands of Egypt.
+
+Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the
+quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets,
+ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts,
+water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one
+other things required by the soldier on active service. In addition
+to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are
+more particular over this article of attire than over any other),
+two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. The latter looked
+tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were
+woollen, very warm and made in Canada. This reminds me of an amusing
+episode which took place last general inspection. While standing easy,
+before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared
+razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in
+Germany. But these were bought by the soldiers before war started. At
+least all affirmed that this was so.
+
+Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries
+at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that
+night. I drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were
+crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends.
+Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and
+lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good
+wishes and tears.
+
+Sunday.--No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the
+streets. The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the
+swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and
+the dainty wrist-watches. They now appeared in web equipment, similar
+to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer
+will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous
+by his uniform.
+
+Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement
+which had been waited for so long. "To-morrow we proceed overseas," he
+said. "On behalf of the colonel I've to thank you all for the way in
+which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain
+that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might
+indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the
+spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."
+
+This was the announcement. The men received it gleefully and a hubbub
+of conversation broke out in the ranks. "We're going at last"; "I
+thought when I joined that I'd be off next morning"; "What price a
+free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll be some great sport!" Such were the
+remarks that were bandied to and fro. But some were silent, feeling,
+no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle
+chatter.
+
+A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the Preservation of Health on
+Field Service," was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a
+few quotations.
+
+"Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to
+keep it outside."
+
+"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."
+
+"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."
+
+"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are
+washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at
+the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean
+pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and
+vice versa."
+
+"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."
+
+"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no
+other part of the body."
+
+At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street
+and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks,
+rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the
+pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling
+into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing
+orders.
+
+Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for
+orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the
+command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to
+be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our
+quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners,
+a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great
+distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of
+momentous finality:
+
+The battalion moves to-morrow.
+
+Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.
+
+Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute
+silence.
+
+I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my
+cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into
+shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the
+bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in
+our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing
+and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the
+night before.
+
+When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon
+and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was
+chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and
+whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to
+beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few
+street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed
+of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every
+billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons,
+wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins,
+stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground
+where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the
+other, were preparing to call the roll.
+
+Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man,
+and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected
+and identity discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were
+allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the
+biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had
+disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await
+us in ---- but I anticipate, and at present all we know is that our
+regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive,
+we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.
+
+We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was
+shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets
+lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who
+wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."
+
+Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted
+to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers
+occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class.
+
+Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my
+comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall
+songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment,
+the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold
+hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the
+rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the Cockney
+youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument
+in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man.
+The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just
+been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a
+Dickens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep,
+his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with
+large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a
+slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been
+waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the
+wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.
+
+Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their
+names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage
+was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends."
+Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers
+and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:
+
+"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"
+
+"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.
+
+"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic
+tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great
+traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he
+owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.
+"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He
+looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.
+
+Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that
+we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with
+their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night
+would be a good one for sailing to France.
+
+If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JUST PUBLISHED
+
+
+THE RAT-PIT
+
+BY PATRICK MACGILL, AUTHOR OF "CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END." CROWN 8VO.
+PRICE 6/-. INLAND POSTAGE 5D. EXTRA.
+
+"Children of the Dead End" came upon the literary world as something
+of a surprise; it dealt with a phase of life about which nothing
+was known. It was compared with the work of Borrow and Kipling.
+Incidentally three editions, aggregating 10,000 copies, were called
+for within fifteen days. In his new book Mr. MacGill still deals with
+the underworld he knows so well. He tells of a life woven of darkest
+threads, full of pity and pathos, lighted up by that rare and quaint
+humour that made his first book so attractive. "The Rat-Pit" tells the
+story of an Irish peasant girl brought up in an atmosphere of poverty,
+where the purity of the poor and the innocence of maidenhood stand
+out in simple relief against a grim and sombre background. Norah Ryan
+leaves her home at an early age, and is plunged into a new world where
+dissolute and heedless men drag her down to their own miry level. Mr.
+MacGill's lot has been cast in strange places, and every incident of
+his book is pregnant with a vivid realism that carries the conviction
+that it is a literal transcript from life, as in fact it is. Only
+last summer, just before he enlisted, Mr. MacGill spent some time in
+Glasgow reviving old memories of its underworld. His characters are
+mostly real persons, and their sufferings, the sufferings of women
+burdened and oppressed with wrongs which women alone bear, are a
+strong indictment against a dubious civilisation.
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+10,000 COPIES CALLED FOR IN 10 DAYS.
+
+CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END
+
+The Autobiography of a Navvy. By PATRICK MACGILL. Crown 8vo. Price
+6/-. Inland Postage 5d. extra.
+
+  MANCHESTER GDN. "A grand book."
+  GLOBE "A living story."
+  D. CITIZEN "Still booming!"
+  STANDARD "A notable book."
+  SATURDAY REVIEW "An achievement."
+  BOOKMAN "Something unique."
+  OUTLOOK "A remarkable book."
+  BYSTANDER "A human document."
+  COUNTRY LIFE "A human document."
+  TRUTH "Intensely interesting."
+  EV. STANDARD "A thrilling achievement."
+  D. TELEGRAPH "Will have a lasting value."
+  PALL MALL GAZ. "Nothing can withstand it."
+  SPHERE "The book has genius in it."
+  BOOKMAN "A poignantly human book."
+  ENGLISH REVIEW "A wonderful piece of work."
+  GRAPHIC "An enthralling slice of life."
+  D. SKETCH "A book that will make a stir."
+  ATHENAEUM "We welcome such books as this."
+  ILL. LONDON NEWS "An outstanding piece of work."
+  D. CHRONICLE "Tremendous, absorbing, convincing."
+  REV. OF REVIEWS "The book is not merely notable--it is remarkable."
+  LA STAMPA "Un nuovo grande astro della litteratura inglese."
+  D. EXPRESS "Will be one of the most talked-of books of the year."
+  SPECTATOR "A book of unusual interest, which we cannot but praise."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS, LD. 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+SONGS OF THE DEAD END
+
+POEMS BY PATRICK MACGILL
+
+
+"Remarkable."--_Daily Express_.
+
+"Work of real genius."--_Bookman_.
+
+"This is a remarkable book."--_Graphic_.
+
+"He can do things, can our navvy poet."--_The Clarion_.
+
+"This extraordinary man of the people."--_Public Opinion_.
+
+"The greatest poet since Kipling."--JAMES DOUGLAS, in _The Star_.
+
+"Verses of remarkable vigour, variety and ability."--_Pall Mall
+Gazette_.
+
+"MacGill's work is taking the literary world by storm."--_Morning
+Leader_.
+
+"His poems show a power of direct observation and of strong
+emotion."--_Spectator_.
+
+"We are at a loss to understand what manner of youth he
+is."--_Manchester Guardian_.
+
+"The author has a very considerable gift."--ANDREW LANG, in
+_Illustrated London News_.
+
+"It is a life which has been an Odyssey, the picturesque life a tone
+poet can weather through as Mr. MacGill has done."--_Book Monthly_.
+
+"The traits of an ardent, fearless personality, expressed in words of
+fire, are here again in all their lyrical richness.... The poet says:
+
+  'I sing my songs to you--and well,
+  You'll maybe like them--who can tell?'
+
+We do like them."--_Daily Chronicle_.
+
+"When, in the terse vernacular of his calling, he gives voice to the
+sorrows and impatience, the humour and the resignation of his workmen
+comrades, and lets his songs find their own natural bent, then at
+length he attains real lyrical strength and sincerity.... For we need
+have no hesitation in hailing Mr. MacGill as a poet."--_Sunday Times_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+40,000 SOLD IN 14 DAYS
+
+QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR
+
+SOME PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. ILLUSTRATED BY DIAGRAMS BY LT.-GEN.
+SIR ROBERT BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B. Price 1/- net. Post Free by all
+Booksellers 1/2.</b>
+
+FIRST REVIEWS
+
+_Daily Mail_.--"B.P. has a reputation which is second to none, and
+this little book is so brightly and cleverly written that it will be
+read with advantage by the recruit and studied with infinite pleasure
+and profit by the professional soldier."
+
+_Lady's Pictorial_.--"Ladies who are anxious to give a practical
+present which not one of their soldier men-folk should disdain to
+accept would certainly find this acceptable."
+
+_Globe_.--"I advise every young officer, Regular or Terrier, to get
+'Quick Training for War' and study it.... It is a most sunny and
+stimulating book."
+
+_Sporting Chronicle_.--"Great interest is being taken in
+Baden-Powell's book 'Quick Training for War' which is enjoying a
+tremendous boom."
+
+_Daily Chronicle_.--"The volume is full of good things for every
+officer, N.C.O., and man in the British Territorial Forces, and rifle
+club."
+
+_Daily Telegraph_.--"This little handbook should be a companion of all
+officers and men now training or being trained for war."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+QUICK TRAINING FOR WAR
+
+FIRST REVIEWS (_CONTINUED_).
+
+_Academy_.--"If books were sold on intrinsic value, Sir Robert
+Baden-Powell's little volume would be issued at a sovereign."
+
+_Sporting Life_.--"Should be studied by every man who is entering the
+service of his country or contemplates doing so."
+
+_Spectator_.--"In heartily commending General Baden-Powell's little
+book to the trainers of the New Army we should like," etc.
+
+_Athenaeum_.--"Sir Robert's hundred pages teem with evidence of how
+common-sense helps."
+
+_Truth_.--"Will prove a valuable gift to those who have answered the
+appeal of the War Office."
+
+_Sunday Times_.--"The book should be in the knapsack of every recruit
+in the New Army."
+
+_Daily Express_.--"A copy ought to be in the pocket of every officer
+and man in the new armies."
+
+_Daily Sketch_.--"Every young officer, N.C.O. and private should have
+a copy."
+
+_Morning Post_.--"As instructive as it is interesting."
+
+_Saturday Review_.--"A manual of great good sense."
+
+_Daily Graphic_.--"It is concentrated wisdom."
+
+_Observer_.--"Clear and persuasive to a degree."
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SIR JOHN FRENCH
+
+AN AUTHENTIC BIOGRAPHY BY CECIL CHISHOLM, M.A. WITH A PORTRAIT OF SIR
+JOHN FRENCH BY HIS SON, J.R.L. FRENCH. CR. 8VO. CLOTH. PRICE 1/- NET.
+POSTAGE 3D. EXTRA.
+
+"Capital."--_Globe_.
+
+"A very excellent character study."--_Daily News_.
+
+"An excellent little book."--_Westminster Gazette_.
+
+"An admirable story of the Field-Marshal's life."--_Academy_.
+
+"A book which everyone should read at the present moment."--_Field_.
+
+"A welcome and admirable little volume in every way."--_Observer_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ATKINS AT WAR
+
+AS TOLD IN HIS OWN LETTERS. BY J.A. KILPATRICK. WITH A COVER DESIGN BY
+SIR R. BADEN-POWELL, K.C.B. CLOTH. PRICE 1/- NET. POSTAGE 3D. EXTRA.
+
+"A human document."--_Globe_.
+
+"A human document."--_Graphic_.
+
+"Sure of a wide circulation."--_Nation_.
+
+"A veritable human document."--_Bookman_.
+
+"A capital little book."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+"A book that throbs with life."--_Daily Call_.
+
+"Mr. Kilpatrick has performed a public service."--_Evening Standard_.
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur Army, by Patrick MacGill
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