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diff --git a/47315-8.txt b/47315-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index eb2ce1e..0000000 --- a/47315-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6892 +0,0 @@ - Private Spud Tamson - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Private Spud Tamson -Author: R. W. Campbell -Release Date: November 08, 2014 [EBook #47315] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIVATE SPUD TAMSON *** - - - - -Produced by David Garcia, D Alexander and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive). - - - - - - Private Spud Tamson - - - - - BY - - - - - _Captain R. W. CAMPBELL_ - - - - - TWELFTH IMPRESSION - - - - - William Blackwood and Sons - Edinburgh and London - 1916 - - - - - _I TAKE THE LIBERTY TO_ - Dedicate this Book - _TO_ - _MY COMMANDING OFFICER_, - _MY BROTHER OFFICERS_, - _AND_ - _THE N.C.O.'S AND MEN_ - _OF_ - _MY GALLANT REGIMENT_. - - - - -_NOTE_. - - -_The Glesca Mileeshy is no regiment in particular. The story is simply a -composite study of the types who fill the ranks of our Militia -Regiments, now known as The Special Reserve. In the near future I hope -to give a pen picture of our Territorials--the splendid force with which -I am at present connected._ - - - - - _NOTE_. ........................................................ - CHAPTER I. SPUD TAMSON ENLISTS. ................................ 3 - CHAPTER II. SPUD ARRIVES AT THE DEPOT. ......................... 11 - CHAPTER III. ESPRIT-DE-CORPS. .................................. 22 - CHAPTER IV. DISCUSSING THE OFFICERS. ........................... 35 - CHAPTER V. CANTEEN YARNS. ...................................... 39 - CHAPTER VI. THE GARRISON LIGHTWEIGHT. .......................... 54 - CHAPTER VII. A LECTURE. ........................................ 63 - CHAPTER VIII. ANNUAL TRAINING. ................................. 69 - CHAPTER IX. LAUGHTER AND LOVE. ................................. 78 - CHAPTER X. MOBILISATION. ....................................... 88 - CHAPTER XI. OFFICERS AND BILLETS. .............................. 112 - CHAPTER XII. THE GENERAL STAFF. ................................ 132 - CHAPTER XIII. TRAINING FOR WAR. ................................ 142 - CHAPTER XIV. ALL ABOUT SPIES. .................................. 175 - CHAPTER XV. A COMPANY OFFICER'S WORRIES. ....................... 193 - CHAPTER XVI. NEW YEAR'S EVE. ................................... 205 - CHAPTER XVII. WAR. ............................................. 218 - CHAPTER XVIII. THE POWER OF BREAD. ............................. 245 - CHAPTER XIX. AN IMPERIAL AFFAIR. ............................... 267 - A CONVENTIONAL FINISH. EXTRACT FROM THE PRESS. ................. 292 - - - - -CHAPTER I. -SPUD TAMSON ENLISTS. - - -_The_ Glesca Mileeshy was a noble force, recruited from the Weary -Willies and Never-works of the famous town of Glasgow. It was also a -regiment with traditions, for in the dim and distant past it had been -founded by 1000 heroic scallywags from out of the city jails. These men -were dressed in tartan breeks and red coats, given a gun and kit, -shipped straight to the Peninsula, and on landing there were told to -fight or starve. - -"We'll fecht," was their unanimous reply, and fight they did. Inured to -hardships, they quickly adapted themselves to the tented field, and -early displayed a thirst - -"Ay--I waant tae jine the Mileeshy." - -"Which Militia?" - -"The Glesca Mileeshy, of coorse." - -"Very well, come with me, and I'll get you a Field-Marshal's baton," -said the sergeant with glee, for this recruiter was feeling thirsty and -much in need of his half-crown fee. He led Spud into the recruiting -office, and told him to strip. - -"When did you have a bath last?" - -"Last Glesca Fair," answered Spud, quite unashamed of his nigger-like -skin. - -"What! Ten months ago?" - -"Ach! that's naething; ma faither hisna had a waash since he got -mairret." - -"Well then, what's your age?" - -"Age! I dinnae ken!" - -"Don't know your age?" - -"Naw, but I wis born the year that the auld chap wis sent tae -Peterheid." - -"Oh, what was that for?" - -"Knockin' lumps aff the auld wife's heid wi' a poker." - -"Very well, we'll say you're nineteen," added the sergeant. "Now, what's -your religion?" - -"The Salvation Army. Ye see, the auld chap kept in wi' them, for they -gie him a bed when he's 'on the bash.'" - -"And what's your occupation?" - -"Cornet-player. I blaw the trumpet, an' the auld chap gies oot the -balloons and candy." - -"What is your full name and address?" - -"Spud Tamson, Murder Close, the Gallowgate, five up, ticket number -10,005." - -"That's a big number!" - -"Ay, that's the number o' fleas in the close." - -"Now, my lad, get into that bath and then you'll pass the doctor." - -When Spud emerged from the water he was a different lad. The grime of -years had gone, leaving his skin pink and fresh. He looked fit indeed -with the exception of his spurtle legs and somewhat comical face. -However, the old sergeant wanted his half-crown, so Spud had to pass by -hook or by crook. He made him hop round the doctor's room like a -kangaroo, and when he was just on the verge of failing in the eyesight -test he whispered the number of dots in his ear. And so Spud Tamson was -passed as a fullblown private into the Glesca Mileeshy. - -"There's the shilling. Go home and say good-bye to your friends; but -remember, be at the station to-night at eight." - -"A' richt, sergint. I'll be there," replied Spud, as he marched proudly -out of the door. Soon after, he announced the news to his now fond and -proud parents. - -"I'm prood o' ye, son," said Mrs Tamson. "Here, tak' yer faither's shirt -and Sunday breeks and pawn them. You'll get twa shillin's on them. And -bring back a gill o' the best, twa bottles o' table beer, an' a pun' o' -ham. We'll hae a feast afore ye gang tae the Mileeshy," concluded his -mother, as she handed Spud the articles for pawning. He blithely stepped -off, and on his return was followed by all the thirsty members of the -"Murder Close Brigade." - -"Here's tae Private Spud Tamson of the Glesca Mileeshy," said Mrs -Tamson, raising a glass to her lips, and giving Spud a look of pride. - -"Ay, he'll be a braw sodger," chimed in an old wife. - -"If it wisnae for his legs," said Tamson senior. - -"Let's hae a sang," interjected "Hungry Bob," another relative who was a -professional militiaman. All were agreed, and Bob commenced to sing-- - - "Their caps were tattered and battered, - And jackets faded and worn, - Their breeches ragged wi' crawling - When boosey and a' forlorn; - Yet when dressed in the tartan - They're the pride o' the women's eye, - Are the Rusty, Dusty, Deil-may-care, - Plucky Auld G.L.I." - -"Hear! hear!" echoed the audience, sipping up the last of the -refreshments, then rising to follow Spud to the station. - -"What's up?" asked the neighbour, Mrs M'Fatty, as she saw the crowd go -marching out of the close. - -"D'ye no' ken--Spud Tamson's jined the Mileeshy!" - -"D'ye tell me! But he's got bachle legs and bleary een. A braw sodger -he'll mak'," said the other with a snicker. - -"Oh, but he'll blaw up weel when he gets a skinfu' o' skilly and army -duff," said Mrs M'Fatty, shutting her door again. - -Meantime Spud was marching to the station, headed by the melodeon and -tinwhistle band of the "Murder Close Brigade." It was the proudest day -of his life, and he stuck out his chest as he marched into the Central -Station. - -"In here," said the old sergeant, getting him by the scruff of the neck -and half pitching him into a railway carriage for Blacktoon. The whistle -blew, and as the train moved out his friends shouted-- - -"Keep oot o' the Nick, Tamson." - -"Pawn your claes an' send me the ticket." - -"I'll come oot tae see ye," said his faither. - -"If you're no in Barlinnie," shouted Spud as a last farewell, then -collapsed down on the seat, to the disgust of a woman next to him. - -"Dinnae smother ma wean," she said. - -"I'm sorry, missus. I thocht it wis a doll." - -"Did ye, ye impident keely. If I wis your mither I wid hae drooned ye." - -"I'm ower bonny for that," answered Spud in a good-humoured way. - -"Ha! ha! ha! What a face!" - -"What's wrang wi' ma face?" - -"It's like a burst German sausage." - -"She's got ye that time," said an old packman in the opposite corner; -"but whaur are ye gaun?" - -"Tae jine the Mileeshy." - -"Man, I'm a piper in that 'crush.' You'll like it--it's great sport. But -mind Sergeant-Major Fireworks. He's a holy terror. He's got a chist like -a horse, and a breist o' tin medals. When he howls the dogs start -barking, and when he curses he mak's ye shiver as if ye had the fever. -But he'll mak' a man o' ye." - -"What d'ye get tae eat?" - -"Hard breid, skilly, bully beef, an' army duff. You'll smell the beef a -mile away. And mind the blankets." - -"What's wrang wi' them?" - -"They're like the picture shows--movin'. But here's Blacktoon, an' -there's a sergint waitin' for ye. I'll see ye at camp, and mine's a -pint. Ta-ta," concluded the old warrior, as Spud stepped out to meet the -sergeant. - -"I'm Private Spud Tamson," said our hero, saluting the sergeant. - -"Alright, but don't salute me--salute the heid yins, that's the -officers. Quick march." And off went Spud and his escort through the -streets of Blacktoon. - -There was a smile as the bold Militiaman went by, and a little gang of -unwashed urchins joined the procession, singing-- - - "Oh, this is Jock M'Craw, - A sodger in the raw, - But Bully Beef and Duff - 'll mak' him fat an' tough, - And then he'll be - Like Bob M'Gee, - A twelve stane three - Mileeshiman! Mileeshiman!" - - - - -CHAPTER II. -SPUD ARRIVES AT THE DEPOT. - - -_The_ Depot in Blacktoon was a somewhat ancient affair. In its palmiest -days the blood-sucking Hanoverian mercenaries of King Geordie had been -quartered there. And during the Russian Scare a score of low jerry-built -buildings had been added to house the braw lads hastily summoned to -defend their kail-pots and their wives. The Depot was therefore a -glorified "Model"--in fact, some of the "Mileeshy" described it as a -"bug and flea factory." However, that was not the fault of His Majesty's -Government, but rather the result of collecting from the highways and -byways all the odds and ends of humanity. Nevertheless, it was a useful -institution from a social reformer's point of view. In times of stress -and unemployment the Depot became a refuge and soup-kitchen for all -those who could muster enough chest measurement and say "99" while an -old horse surgeon thumped the lungs with his ironlike fists. And strange -to say, it was also viewed by the magistrates as a sort of reformative -penitentiary. Many a lad summoned before the bailie for sheep-stealing, -burglary, wife-beating, or "getting a lassie into bother," was given the -option of "sixty days--or jine the Mileeshy." Naturally, these -rapscallions preferred the lesser of the evils, and, in this way, the -Secretary of State for War was enabled to put on paper that "The Militia -was up to the established strength and filled with men of a hardy and -soldier-like kind." Still, these men could fight. Wellington, as I have -already said, had found the Glesca Mileeshy able to rise to the noblest -heights. So, you see, there was enough of tradition to whet the -enthusiasm of the warlike Spud, and as he marched through the barrack -gates he swung out his pigeon chest, tightened up his shanks, and -swaggered across the parade in the style of a braw "Mileeshiman." The -sergeant marched him straight to where Sergeant-Major Fireworks was -standing. - -"Halt!" the sergeant commanded. - -Then addressing the sergeant-major, said, "Private Spud Tamson from -Glasgow, sir." - -"Umph! You're a beauty. What are you--a burglar or wife-beater, eh?" - -"Naw, I'm Spud Tamson, rag merchant, frae Glesca." - -"Say 'sir' when you speak to me. And keep your legs to attention. You're -a soldier now! Don't scowl at me; I'll have no dumb insolence from you, -understand! And remember, you belong to the Glesca Mileeshy, the right -of the line and the terror of the whole world." - -"I ken a' aboot that. Ma uncle wis in it." - -"What was his name?" - -"Rab M'Ginty." - -"M'Ginty! Why, that was the d---- rascal who sneaked my trousers and -stole a barrel of beer." - -"Ay, that's him. He's got an' awfu' thirst. I think he's got a sponge in -his thrapple." - -"Very well. You'll go to 'A' Company. March him off, sergeant." And away -went Spud to join the leading company of his regiment. - -He was introduced to a barrack-room where twenty men lived under the -rule of a red-nosed corporal nicknamed "Beery Bob." The walls of this -room were whitewashed and decorated here and there with photos of boxers -and ballet girls in tights. Along each side of the room were the little -iron beds with rolled-up mattresses and blankets neatly folded. A single -shelf contained each man's belongings, while at the end of the room -there was a cupboard to hold the rough bread, greasy margarine, and -chipped iron bowls and plates. To the sensitive eye the place just -looked like a prison, but the average Militiaman regarded it as a -palace, for he hailed from a brute creation who only know squalor and -misery. Indeed, it was frequently argued that to house these men in a -more artistic sphere would be stupid, for the simple reason that they -would wipe their feet with the tablecloths and use the saucers for the -boot blacking. In any case, it was life under the crudest conditions. On -a pay-day it was simply Hell. - -Dinner was being served as Spud entered. This consisted of a -greasy-looking stew, coupled with queer-looking potatoes. The old -soldiers, of course, made sure of receiving the biggest share. This was -an unwritten law, handed down from the Army of the Romans, and it was -_infra dig_. for the recruit to object. Imagine the surprise of the -hungry Spud Tamson on sitting down to a bone and a couple of potatoes. -It was too much for his fiery nature, and, on observing the plate of an -old Die-hard next to him, which was loaded up with the choicest titbits, -he remarked to him, "You're like Rab Haw--you've eyes bigger than your -belly." - -"Nane o' yer lip, or I'll knock your pimpled face intae mincemeat." - -"Wid ye! D'ye think I'm saft?" - -"Shut up, I tell ye." - -"Tha'll no' frichten me, auld cock--I'm gem." - -"Tak' that," said his opponent, wiping his hand across his face. Spud -promptly hit back, with the result that the table went up with a bang -and all the dinners crashed to the floor. - -"Mak' a ring! Mak' a ring!" shouted the others, for Militiamen dearly -love a scrap. In a few seconds this was done. Spud and his enemy off -with their jackets, and soon the thud, thud, of blows, and an occasional -grunt told of a deadly combat. If Spud was lean, he was wiry, and he had -been reared in the school of self-help. He hopped round the old Die-hard -like a bantam, and now and then slipped in a terrific blow on the -elderly man's corporation. - -"Go on the wee yin!" - -"Two to one bar one!" - -"Slip it across him!" - -"Whack his beer barrel!" were some of the rude but encouraging remarks. -But all the pluck of Spud was useless against the great hulking form of -"Dirty Dick," as his opponent was called. After a ten-minutes' bout Dick -gave out a terrible snipe which sent the brave Spud to the floor and -caused the blood to spurt from his nose in a regular stream. - -That was the end of the combat. Willing hands tended the unconscious -Spud, and on his recovery they hailed him as a fit and proper person for -the Glesca Mileeshy. Dick, in a true sportsmanlike manner, shook hands -and marched the whole crowd to the canteen. There the health of the -gallant recruit was pledged with Highland honours, followed by the -"Regimental" Anthem of the Glesca Mileeshy-- - - "Beer, beer, glorious beer, - Fill yourself right up to here; - Don't make a fool of it, - But down with a pail of it, - Glorious, glorious beer." - -This episode was duly reported to Tamson senior. That worthy rag-vender -was well pleased--so pleased, in fact, that he got fu' on the strength -of it, and received a hammering from Mrs Tamson, who cracked the -frying-pan over his head. In the Gallowgate, the Murder Close Brigade -also hailed the news with pride. Spud was "one of the boys," and they -determined to give him a public reception in a fried-fish shop when he -returned. - -Meantime Spud was being initiated into the arts of the soldier. From the -stores he had received a pair of wide, ill-fitting tartan breeks, -resembling concertinas, a red jacket, which hung like a sack, a white -belt, and a leatherbound Glengarry cap. A penny swagger cane and the -inevitable "fag" completed the picture of Spud as a warrior bold. He -also received a rifle and equipment. The rifle was an ancient affair, -officially known as a "D.P." (Drill Purposes). A certain number of good -rifles were allowed to each company for firing purposes. This -arrangement, perhaps, saved the lives of many in the Depot of Blacktoon, -for the Glesca Mileeshy at large resembled the Dervishes of the Khalifa. - -Before dealing with the drilling of Spud on the barrack square I must -not forget to record his first ragging affair. This, as in the case of -every recruit, occurred on the first night in the barrack-room. It is -known as "setting the bed." As each bed is a collapsible affair, kept -together by movable bolts and stays, it is quite an easy matter to -abstract a few, leaving sufficient to allow the practical jokers to -carry out their scheme. On the night in question Spud, of course, was -quite unconscious of any trouble to come. When "Lights out" sounded he -hopped into bed and soon was fast asleep. His snoring was the signal for -the mischievous rascals to crawl out of their beds. Dirty Dick was one. -He fastened long strings to the legs of the sleeping man's bed. To the -ends of his blankets strings were also attached. During these operations -a "ghost" was getting ready by draping a white sheet over his body and -tipping his fingers and eyes with phosphorus. A sergeant's sword was -also given a touch of gleaming phosphorus. This completed, all scuttled -back to their beds and waited for the signal. - -"Go," shouted the leader. The strings were tugged, away went the legs, -off went the blankets, and with a horrible crash Spud's bed collapsed -like a pack of cards on to the floor. His dreams were rudely shattered, -and he found himself standing in his shirt-tail 'midst the wreckage, -muttering some unparliamentary thoughts. The stillness and darkness of -the barrack-room made the affair uncanny. He had just commenced to -wonder whether his brain was sound when he was again startled to see a -ghost advancing down the room, loudly exclaiming, "Spud Tamson, I am the -Ghost of Jack the Ripper. I have come to slit thy gizzard with a sword, -so prepare to pass into the land where the angels sell ice-cream and all -drinks are free." This eerie person also waved his blazing-sword and -hands in such a terrifying way that poor Spud shivered with a strange -and awful fear. He thought he was in something like Dante's Inferno. -Nearer, nearer came the "Ghost," waving his awful sword. Was he to die? -Would he never see his dearly beloved Gallowgate again? And oh, what of -his Mary Ann, that romantic Glasgow creature who held his heart in the -hollow of her hand? Something had to be done. - -Just then he caught the suppressed laughter of his fellows. His fears -vanished with the wind. He knew he was being ragged. Again he would show -his pluck. Picking up an iron leg of his bed, he waited for the "Ghost" -to come quite near. - -"Spud Tamson, bare thy black and unwashed neck--I have come to slit it -like a butcher cutting a pig----" - -Bang! went Spud's iron stanchion. It struck the sword, then Spud gave -the "Ghost" a terrific blow below the belt. He howled, then flew at his -aggressor like a tiger. In a second the still barrack-room was turned -into a boxing-booth. The unseemly noise was so bad that it roused the -corporal, "Beery Bob," out of his usual heavy sleep. Well used to these -affairs, the corporal, seizing a big stick, jumped out of his bed. Crack -went the stick over the nether region of the "Ghost," who at once -galloped to bed. Crack went the stick again over Spud's poor meatless -form. There was a yell, and Tamson exclaimed, "It wisna me, corporal! It -wisna me!" - -"Naw, but that wis me. Get tae bed and nae mair o' yer yelpin'," he -said, turning in, while the remainder of the Militiamen were laughing -underneath the blankets. Poor Spud, realising that he was amongst the -Philistines, immediately camped for the night midst the wreckage of his -dreams. - - - - -CHAPTER III. -ESPRIT-DE-CORPS. - - -_Sergeant_ Cursem could drill anything from an elephant to a baboon. His -figure was a walking advertisement for Lipton's, while his voice -resembled the rasping fog-horns on the Clyde. He had the eye of an -eagle, the moustache of a Kaiser, and the finest vocabulary of -curse-words in the Army--hence his name of Cursem. Of course he was a -Regular, one specially selected to thump duty, drill, and discipline -into the motley array annually enlisted to defend his Majesty, his heirs -and successors. His was a tough job, but he managed it. His brute -personality and muscular strength were sufficient to repel the insolence -and insubordination of the average Glesca keely. Naturally, he was -famous. Round the hot plates of the "Models," in the ticketed dens of -the Gallowgate, and in the stone yards of Barlinnie, there were ancient -heroes who recited his deeds and mimicked his adjectives. And Cursem's -nicknames were legion. "Blowhard," "Hardneck," "Swankpot," and "Grease -lightning," were just a few. Still he was popular, for underneath his -rough exterior was a heart of gold. Old swaddies delighted to tell of -his gallantry, too, for once on the Frontier of India he had slaughtered -ten bloodthirsty Pathans in the space of an hour. Spud and his pals, in -consequence, always paraded in fear and awe. When Cursem bellowed "Fall -in" they trembled, while his thunderous "'Shun" made them shiver and -pale. - -Cursem had a stock address for recruits on their first parade. "The -first duty of a soldier is obedience," he would say. "If you're told to -cut the whiskers off a German, or stick your stomach in front of a -pom-pom--do it, and no back answers. You're not paid 'to think,' you're -paid to die. And when you die--die like a soldier and a man. It doesn't -matter whether you've been a tinker, burglar, or wife-beater, once -you're a soldier--you're a gentleman. If you want to get drunk, there's -the canteen. Don't go into the beer-shops in town and fill yourself up -to the neck, then get arrested for assault and battery. Next--wash -yourselves. Some of you chaps haven't had a bath since you were born. -Take a pride in yourselves. Cleanliness is next to godliness--you've a -chance of getting to heaven if you wash the black collars off your -necks. There's enough germs below your finger-nails to kill the Army -with itch and fever. And when you're marching--march like guardsmen. -Don't waddle like ducks and bulldogs. Stick out your chest. If you -haven't got a chest shove some cotton-wool in your tunic. Swing your -arms out and straighten up your legs. Step out as if you owned the whole -Empire. And keep your eyes off the ground. There's no fag-ends or -half-crowns there. Now, answer your regimental names--" - - "Tamson,"--"Here." - "M'Fatty,"--"Here." - "Muldoon,"--"Here." - "M'Haggis,"--"Here." - "M'Shortbread,"--"Here." - "Whiskers,"--"Here." - "M'Sloppy,"--"Here." - "M'Ginty,"--"Here." - -"Very good--now, we'll do some drill. Squad--'Shun. As you were--put -some life in it. 'Shun--by the right--quick march. Step out--hold up -your heads--swing out your arms. Left--left--left--right--left. Come -along, M'Ginty, you walk like a beer-barrel. Step out, M'Haggis,--you're -not at a funeral. Left--right--left--about turn. I said right-about, -Tamson, not left-about. Don't sulk and scowl at me. No dumb insolence -here, my lad, or I'll clap you in the guard-room. Squad--right -turn--lead on. Stop that talking in the ranks. Tamson,--hold your head -up." - -"Haud your ain---- heid up," muttered Tamson. - -"Squad--halt. What do you mean, you tin-chested, bandy-legged rag -merchant. Didn't I tell you not to talk in the ranks?" - -"It wisnae me--it wis M'Ginty." - -"You're a liar, Tamson," answered M'Ginty. - -"Silence, you red-haired, spud-bred Irishman. I'll do all the talking -here," roared Cursem, his whiskers sticking out like needles and his -eyes blazing with anger. "Now, no more nonsense. By the right--quick -march. I'll sweat you to death, and make your shirts stick to your back -like glue. About turn--keep your eyes off the colonel's cook--she's -married and got a family. Right form--come round -now--steady--forward--by the right. That's better. Squad--right -turn--leave the canteen clock alone--it's not twelve yet, and there's no -free beer. Come along, Muldoon,--step out--you get a loaf of bread and a -pound of beef to do it on. Halt! Now you can talk about your Mary -Ann's," concluded Cursem, after the first spasm. But the rookies had no -wind left to talk. They were content to gasp and study in silence the -mountainous personality of Sergeant Cursem. - -It was also during the minutes at ease that the sergeant discovered the -callings and antecedents of his men. - -"What do you outside?" he inquired of the pimple-nosed M'Ginty. - -"Everybody, sarjint," replied this sharp imp of the streets. - -"I _thought_ you were a burglar. And, Muldoon, what's your calling?" - -"Gravel crusher, sergint?" - -"Umph! What's that?" - -"Road merchant and milestone counter." - -"You're a tinker, eh?" - -"Ay. Hae ye ony tin cans or umbrellas tae mend--I'll dae them for a -pint?" - -"No. Now, M'Haggis, what are you?" - -"A coal merchant." - -"Where?" - -"Doon below." - -"In the pits--I thought that, by your neck. And where did you get the -name of Whiskers?" he next inquired of a queer-looking mortal from -Cowcaddens. - -"Frae ma faither. The hair used tae grow oot o' his nose an' ears. He -wis a Hielanman frae Tobermory." - -"Umph--I can see the heather sticking out of your toes as well," -interjected Cursem. Then turning to Tamson, he asked his pedigree. - -"Rags and balloons, sergint." - -"I suppose you push the barrow?" - -"Na--I blaw the balloons, mak' the candy, and soond the trumpet for the -auld chap." - -"Where did you get that broken nose?" - -"In a fish shop." - -"A fight?" - -"Ay--an Italian hit me wi' a bottle for pinchin' a plate." - -"Well--you're a lot of beauties," said Cursem, addressing the crowd. -"You could steal the hair off a billiard ball and burgle the Bank of -England in broad daylight. But never mind, lads," he continued, in a -more intimate and kindly way, "you're doing your little bit for your -country. That's more than some of the vulgar rich _can_ do. And you can -all stop a bullet, or plank a bayonet in a German's stomach. Hooligans -can be heroes just as well as aristocrats. This old Militia was first -raised in a prison and died like heroes in the Peninsula. And I've seen -men like you slicing the heads off big fat niggers out in India. And, -mind you, I would sooner lead a company of the Glesca Mileeshy than a -company of Oxford grads." - -"Why, sergint?" ventured one of the squad. - -"These gents think too much--you don't. A good soldier never thinks. If -he does, he's a nuisance. A soldier's a man who doesn't ask why he's got -to die. He does it, and that's the end of it. And I want to talk to you -now about Esprit-de-Corps." - -"What's that, sergint?" - -"Esprit-de-Corps means that you've got to feel and believe that you're -equal to a hundred niggers, ten Frenchmen, five Germans, and a couple of -Yanks." - -"Is that no' swank?" asked Tamson. - -"Well--yes. What you call swank won Waterloo, the Crimea, and the -Mutiny. See! But just to make it clear, gather round here and I'll tell -you of a fight I was once in." - -The recruits came closer, for when Cursem opened up his heart they loved -him. And then all liked to hear the yarns of the tented field. And -Cursem was a clever enough soldier to know that this was the best way to -let these simple-hearted youngsters understand that tradition and duty -are the mainsprings of an army. - -"You see, this affair happened out on the Frontier. That's where the sun -peels your nose like a banana, and gives you a thirst that gallons can't -kill. Well, we had been marching, skirmishing, and killing for nearly -six months. We had lost half of the regiment with bullets, fever, and -sunstroke when we arrived at a place called Fugee. There the old colonel -told us that there were three thousand oily-skinned Dacoits waiting to -kill us out by a night attack. Mark you, we were only five hundred -strong, and half-starved at that. The nearest garrison was 100 miles -away, and we had only rations for three days. Pretty tight, I tell you. -So the officers and sergeants had a pow-wow. The colonel put it straight -to us when he said, 'It's fight and get out, or stand still and get -butchered to death.' We voted to fight. 'Very well--we'll burn our camp -baggage, spare rifles, and everything we can't carry on our backs. Then -we shall sally out at night. 'A' Company will make a feint at the enemy, -while the remaining companies slip round their rear. 'A' must fight its -way through or perish, while the remainder must also take pot-luck. Do -you agree?' We all said 'Yes,' and went back to get ready. - -"Everything was burned. And as I was in 'A' I got my boys ready for -their job. The old colonel shook hands with every man of 'A,' and wished -us luck. He never expected to see us again. Then out we crawled to the -foot of the hills. It was as dark as the devil's waistcoat. And now and -then we fell into dongas and holes. No one spoke, and all tried to keep -behind the captain, who had an illuminated compass. For over an hour we -stumbled along, when the captain whispered 'Halt!' - -"'Sergeant,' said he, 'I can smell niggers. Come with me for a minute.' -We went forward. 'Steady!' says he; 'there's one asleep.' And before I -could say Jack Robinson his sword was in the nigger's stomach. The -beggar roared like a donkey, and that started the bother. In a minute -the hills were ablaze with bullet flashes. The captain was shot dead; so -was the subaltern. My helmet was riddled, and I got pinned in the leg. -Just then the dawn broke, and I saw one chance for us all--through a -little valley. ''A' Company, fix bayonets--charge,' I roared. And didn't -the boys come on. All Glasgow lads--and plucky ones. We shot, bayoneted, -kicked, battered, and cursed through a thousand dirty-smelling Dacoits. -They made mincemeat of twenty of us in five minutes. I was bleeding like -a pig, for they were cutting me up for sandwiches. But on I went with -the remainder of the company. The shots, the whistling knives, the wild -yells and curses made it just like hell. Yes; that's the word. Once I -looked back and saw the enemy disembowelling some of our boys. Just then -our silly bugler, who got in a funk, sounded the 'Retire.'" - -"And did you, sergint?" asked Tamson. - -"No--I shot him dead. The battlefield's no place for fools. Well, we -cut, cursed, and blundered through till we got on to a hill. There were -only ten of us left. You see, we had tackled the main body, so that I -knew the regiment had got safely through. It was hopeless for us to -follow. We were cut off. It was to be a last stand for us all. The enemy -had shied clear for a while. They knew they could get us any old time. -So I got the boys to build a sangar, and we lay down. There was no -water, and we had only a few biscuits to last us out. Our throats were -parched, our tongues hanging out, and nearly every man had some kind of -wound. We tied them up with rags. But oh, my God, the sun! It burnt the -sinews of our legs, and sent one fellow raving mad. He rushed down the -hill like a mad priest, and in five minutes he was shot dead and -disembowelled by the outposts of the enemy. All through the night the -Dacoits chanted their death songs, for they were biding their time. For -three days we lived like that. Four more died. And on the fourth day the -enemy drew near for the final murder of us all. We were weak, but frenzy -made us strong. I fired as if I was at Bisley, and potted ten of them -dead. All the others did the same. That stopped their rush. But only for -an hour. Then they crept on again. Nearer they came. I could smell -them--their dirty, evil eyes were mocking us. But every head that popped -up from behind a stone got bashed with a bullet. Then our ammunition -went done. I had one round left. I heard them come on. I felt it was -domino for us all. My brain was going; blood was trickling down my -shoulder; but just as my memory snapped I heard the echo of a bugle and -cheer. The relief column had got through. When I came to I was in -hospital. I was a lunatic for six months, and the only one left out of a -hundred men. That's what we call Esprit-de-Corps. Do you understand what -I mean now?" he asked in a quiet voice. - -"Ay, sergint," was the humble response from all. - -"Squad--Dismiss," and off they trooped to the barrack-room with the -spirit of duty and honour in their souls. That's how Sergeant Cursem -drilled the Glesca Mileeshy. And that is how he earned his Victoria -Cross. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -DISCUSSING THE OFFICERS. - - -"_Ginger_!" - -"Ay, Spud." - -"Whut's a colonel?" - -"Oh, he's the heid bummer o' the Mileeshy. The man that curses everybody -on parade." - -"Yon fat man wi' the red nose an' the medals?" - -"Ay." - -"Whut did he get his medals for?" - -"Slicing beef-steaks aff the niggers in Egypt. D'ye ken his nickname?" - -"Na." - -"It's 'Corkleg.' He's only got wan leg. A nigger chowed it aff in the -Soudan." - -"Whut dis he work at when the Mileeshy's no 'up'?" - -"He shoots phaisants an' kills rabbits." - -"Ay, an' whut's yon gless in his ee fur?" - -"Tae see if yer buttons are clean, an' they're nae fleas on yer bonnet." - -"An', Ginger, wha's yon wee man wi' the rid hair an' pinted neb?" - -"That's the 'Dandy Major.' He can scoff a bottle tae his brekfist. He's -awfu' fond o' actresses. They ca' him 'Dandy Dick.' He wis in the -Regulars, but he got chucked oot for hittin' the colonel on the nose." - -"Whut aboot?" - -"A wumin, of coorse,--weemin an' wine is whut they chaps live for." - -"Then there's Captain Hardup--wha's he?" - -"He's a professional Mileeshiman, wan o' thae chaps that mak's a leevin' -oot o' the Mileeshy. He's a ranker. Rankers ken owre much. There's -naethin' like a real toff for an officer. They've got the bluid, an' the -men ay follow them in action. Hae ye seen oor captain yet, Spud?" - -"Na." - -"Weel, he's the real Mackay. His auld man's a Duke. He wears corsets, -an' pits pooder on his face, and speaks in a hawhaw wey, but he's a guid -yin. He's ay got a hauf-quid to gie the lads a drink. D'ye ken----" - -"Whut?" - -"He knocked a man oot last camp. Dirty Bob, a daft piper, wis a bit fu', -and said he wid lay the captain oot. - -"'How dare you?' ses the captain. - -"'Ay, I wid dare,' says Dirty Bob. - -"'Take that, you beastly fellow,' ses the captain, stretchin' him oot -like a deid yin. An' that's no' the end o't. Next mornin' he sent for -Bob. Ses he, 'There's a half-sovereign to you--see and behave yourself -in future.' Bob's the best sodger in the company noo. Thae toffs ken hoo -tae haun'le men." - -"Whut wey are these officers no' in the Regulars, Ginger?" - -"They're like us--they hinna got muckle brains. The Mileeshy's for -orphans, unemployed, an' daft folk. But it's the back door tae the Army. -If ye can get yer brains an' chest measurement up in the Mileeshy, -they'll tak' ye intae the Regulars." - -"An' whut are the Non-Commeesioned Officers for?" inquired Spud, still -anxious to learn. - -"Tae dae a' the dirty work. Ye see, we're a' supposed to be like -cuddies--broad backs an' saft heids. The Non-Coms. are peyed tae whup us -on--see?" - -"Then hoo d'ye get stripes?" - -"Some chaps get made lance-corporal for bein' smert; ithers get it for -giein' the colour-sergint ten bob. An' some get the stripe for makin' up -tae the officer." - -"But that's no richt, Ginger?" - -"Naethin's richt in the sodgers. Ye're no' supposed tae think. If ye -think owre much they'll pit ye in the nick for insubordination. That's -whut they ca' Disceeplin. If ye waant tae get on in the Mileeshy, kid -ye're daft, an' gie the salaam tae everybody. That's hoo tae get a staff -job." - - - - -CHAPTER V. -CANTEEN YARNS. - - -_The_ unwritten laws of the Glesca Mileeshy were as rigid as the -etiquette of the Brigade of Guards. The most important was that which -compelled recruits to "stand their hand," or, in plain English, give -free drinks all round. This to the cultured instinct may seem a somewhat -coarse enactment, but to an old Militia hand, possessed of an Indian -thirst, it was all-important and always demanded. The recruit's first -pay-day was usually selected for this purpose. Pay-day in the Militia, I -may say, is just a sort of Dante's Inferno in miniature. And in the -times of Spud Tamson the weekly pay amounted to one shilling per day. -This would not keep a millionaire in matches, but it was sufficient to -lure to the barracks' gate the official and unofficial wives of this -regiment, as well as to rouse in the breasts of their noble lovers -dreams of foaming ale and nights of song and story. - -Just as German students have their beer clubs and drinking bouts, so did -this regiment possess its boosing schools and captains. This was a weird -system. Each company had a school, and on pay-day every man paid so much -to the captain. The captain divided this money over the days of the -week, and thus ensured that all had liquid refreshment till the next -pay-day came round. The captain, of course, had other duties. He chaired -all meetings in the canteen, maintained law and order, and, more -important, he secured patrons possessed of unlimited cash and willing -hearts. The recruit, of course, was the most important. A youngster -deemed it an honour to sup with those veterans of "Models" and wars, and -for the privilege was content to disgorge. Spud was therefore inveigled -into one of these schools, and in true Tamson style called for "pints o' -the best." For this act he was made the guest of the evening, and so -long as his pay lasted the old guard were content to listen to his -blethers with all the deference born of thirst and cunning. - -The canteen was, of course, under discipline and regulations. A corporal -stood at the door to officially measure the pints of ale that trickled -down the Militiamen's necks. As soon as a man's head wobbled, and his -eyes rolled in a stupid and vacant style, he was seized by the scruff of -the neck and given the order of the boot. If he objected, he was marched -to the "clink" under escort. This was religiously adhered to in the -Glesca Mileeshy for the first hour, but as the clock went round, the -very thirsty corporals of this regiment sent duty and regulations to -Hong-Kong, and sat down to partake of the feast given free because of -their superior rank. - -Picture the scene, then,--a long, low room, packed with boozing schools, -and badly lit with evil-smelling oil-lamps. Round the tables were seated -some of the biggest rogues and many of the biggest-hearted souls in -creation. In one corner, the corporal sat blind to all the world; while -in the opposite part of the canteen Spud Tamson was seated amidst his -new-found friends listening to the tales of woe and war. - -"Speakin' aboot funny things," said Rab M'Ginty, "I mind when we were -oot at the War on ootpost duty. It wis a rotten job--naethin' but hard -chuck an' bully beef. An' every nicht the enemy used tae open fire. We -got fed up wi' this, an' thocht oot a scheme tae save us bother. D'ye -ken what we did?' - -"Na," said the others. - -"Weel, we got a' the auld tin cans an' auld dugs we could get oor haunds -on. We tied the tin cans tae the barbed wire and every ten yerds we -fixed a dug up on a chain." - -"Whut fur?" asked Tamson. - -"Tae rattle an' bark when the enemy wis comin'. Man, it wis a great -thing! And when on duty we could get tae sleep; for the dugs barked when -they heard the least soond. But wan nicht we got a terrible fricht. Ye -see it wis gey daurk and aboot midnicht, a' the tin cans an' dugs -commenced tae rattle an' bark. Then I heard something cherging up and -doon the wires. So I let bang! That started it. In five meenits the hale -army o' ten thoosan' men were firing. But the cans kept rattlin' an' the -dugs barkin'. I wis shiverin' wi' fricht. Tae mak' things worse, there -was a terrible braying--an eerie noise in front o' us. We couldnae stop -it. Some said it wis auld Kruger's ghost, others said it wis the Deevil -himsel'; but, man, it wis awfu'. For twa hoors we fired ten thoosand -roonds o' ammuneeshin but that didnae end it." - -"Whut wis it?" queried the anxious and interested Spud. - -"Wait," said Rab. "We kept on firing till the dawn came. An' then we saw -them--dizens o' them lyin' deid." - -"The enemy?" some one asked. - -"Na! Donkeys." - -"Donkeys! Hoo wis that?" - -"Ye see, a' the transport cuddies got loose an' wandered. They got mixed -up wi' the wires an' that wis the cause o' the bother. Jist fancy, ten -thoosan' roonds tae kill three dizen cuddies." - -"Did ye get the V.C.?" queried Tamson. - -"V.C.! Nae fear. I got ten days in the nick for openin' fire on His -Majesty's cuddies." - -"Ach, sure an' I've a better yarn than that," said Paddy Doolan. - -"Tell it," ordered the captain. - -"It was out in India when I was in the ould Dublin Fusiliers. We were at -a place nicknamed 'Holipore,' that's where the Holy Fathers pour -medicine down the niggers' necks, an' beer down the sodgers'. The affair -happened at night. I was on sentry-go, and about twelve I was startled -to see a mad fakir wid fire in his eyes and a sword in his fingers -advancing on me. - -"'Halt!' ses I, shiverin' in my pants. But he never stopped. On he -marched. - -"'Be jabers, if yes don't halt I'll riddle ye,' I roared. That didn't -halt him. I rammed a cartridge in and tried to fire, but divil a bit -could I fire. It was jammed, or I was drammed. And then he stopped. - -"'Great Sahib,' he said. - -"'Yis,' ses I, all shakin'. - -"'I am the Chief Priest of the Temple of Skulls. I bless you and annoint -you one of my beloved and a son of the faithful. And I command you to -ground your arms.' - -"'I can't--I'll get the "nick" from the sargint.' - -"'Great Sahib, obey, or I shall cut out thy heart and eyes.' - -"I dropped my gun like a hot Connemara spud. - -"'Sahib, double march and follow me.' Off went the mad fellow into the -jungle. I galloped after him. The tigers were roarin', elephants -trumpeting and hyenas crying like ould cats. But they fled from the -sight of the ould fakir. I was puffin' an' blowin' like a roarin' -race-horse, and sweatin' like a pig, when he cried, 'Halt, O Sahib of -the great white race.' - -"'Not so much of the Sahib,' ses I, 'but give me a drink.' - -"'There is no refreshment in the Temple of Skulls. Your blood shall be -the refreshment for our Gods. Watch, O Sahib.' And before I could cough -the ground opened up before me showing a stair made out of bones. - -"'Enter,' said he, like a bloomin' ould butler. Down I went into the -devil's hole. It was a temple lit up with oil. The walls were made of -skulls, and the floors had carpets made out of Highlanders' kilts, -fusiliers' trousers, artillerymen's pants, and cavalrymen's dongarees. -Holy Moses! I shivered like a cat on the tiles. As I got in, a dozen mad -fellows commenced to play their pumpkin drums, and sing--" - - "'Death to the Sahib, - His blood for our Gods, - Death to the Sahib, - His bones for our rods; - Death to the Sahib, - And then he shall know - The secrets of Rahib - The High Priest below.' - -"'Ye dirty ould spalpeen,' ses I, knockin' daylight out of the fellow -who'd introduced me to this Madame Tussaud's. But he dodged, and pulling -a string, I was enveloped in blue flames, and then tied to an altar in -front of the Holy Water." - -"Have a drink, Paddy." interjected the captain at this point, to the -disgust of the fascinated Spud and spell-bound Militiamen. - -Paddy quaffed a pint from the foaming tankard, then resumed: "Yes, they -got out their scimitors--knives like the master-cook cuts the rations up -with. But before slicing the beef-steaks off me the High Priest offered -up a prayer 'for the soul of Sahib Paddy Doolan, of the Dublin -Fusiliers, who was to be sliced, fried, and eaten on the altar of Rahib, -the High Priest of the Twopenny Tube in the Jungle of Tigers and -Panthers.' Next, they did a can-can--a sort of Highland fling--round me. - -"'Stop,' ses I, 'I'll never get drunk again,' but they just sung--" - - "'Death to the Sahib, - His blood for our Gods.' - -"Finally, they sharpened their ould ham knives, and with a wild, wild -yell, stuck every one into my ould hairy chest. And then I woke up--in -hospital." - -"In hospital?" queried the amazed Spud. - -"Yes, I was in the D.T.'s (delirium tremens)." - -"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the crowd in a rollicking way, for Paddy Doolan -was the champion liar in the corps. But his story was sufficient to drag -another drink out of the green-eyed Spud, and that was the main point so -far as Doolan and his pals were concerned. - -"It's your turn now, 'Dominie,'" said the captain to a grizzled old -red-nosed warrior, who had seen better days. - -"What do you want?" - -"Tell us about Algy--some of them haven't heard that yarn." - -"Well," said the Dominie, lighting up his old cutty-pipe, "Algy was a -gent who listed in my first 'crush'--the Perthshire Kilties. He arrived -one night at Fort George with a cabful of luggage, a bicycle, a box of -sardines and prunes, and a big printed roll showing how he descended -from Willie the Conqueror--that's the chap who led the Normans." - -"D'ye mean the Mormons?" interjected Spud. - -"No, you fathead. However, Algy rang the bell. When the sergeant opened -the gate he saluted, for he thought this was some new officer. - -"'I'm a recruit, sergeant,' said Algy. - -"'What's yer name?' asked the sergeant. - -"'Algy de Verepot--I've been "plucked" at Sandhurst, and I want to get a -commission through the ranks.'" - -"'You'll be lucky if you get your dinner; but come tae the -sergeant-major,' said he, pointing out the sergeant-major's quarters. -The sergeant-major gave Algy a welcome, and told his colour-sergeant to -coddle and be kind to him. - -"In his room he hung up his pedigree, threw around his public-school -blazers and badges, and dropped here and there some family notepaper -with a handsome crest on it. Every soldier loves a real live toff, so -all the boys gave him a hand with his kit, and acted generally as his -lackeys. - -"'Don't bother about paying me, colour-sergeant,' he said one day. 'I've -plenty of money. Keep it and give the boys a drink.' This charmed the -company, and he was made a hero. He also ordered superfine clothing, and -many other odds and ends, from the Master Tailor and outside tradesmen. -'Just send on the bills,' was his aristocratic command. They were -delighted, for the whole garrison was full of the romance of this peer's -nephew in the ranks. And the girls--didn't they rush him! Even the -officers' daughters went crazy about him. In his private's uniform he -used to walk them out to tea. You see they pitied him, and thought he -was getting thin on bully beef, toad-in-the-hole, and dead-cat stew. And -then the colonel's wife met him. He used to tell her of his fiancée, -Lady Gwendoline, and the great times he had with Lord Noddy at his -Highland shootings. The dear lady became interested, and even got the -length of walking round the ramparts arm-in-arm. Didn't we envy him, for -she was a beauty. And they say she kissed the old colonel one night and -said, 'Now, dear, you must be kind to that boy and get him his -commission.' - -"'Certainly! Certainly!' answered the old chap. - -"In this way, you see, he got into the hearts of all. And he was as keen -as mustard. He used to slope arms and salute in front of the mirror, and -'paid' a man well to clean his kit. At night, too, he used to go to the -adjutant's room and get books on drill. The adjutant told him -everything.--How the regiment was worked; the keeping of the books, the -filing of records, and the recording of the cash in the orderly-room -safe. - -"'Then the adjutant keeps all the regimental pay in the safe?' he asked -of him one night. - -"'Oh yes, there are the keys,' replied the captain casually. - -"Shortly after this Algy received a wire saying, 'Can you come for -grouse-shooting on the Twelfth.--Lord Noddy.' He rushed to the colonel -and presented it, at the same time asking for leave. - -"'Well, it's unusual, my lad, but seeing who you are, you can go for -seven days.' And away went Algy with all his luggage. He got a cheer -from the boys as he went through the gate, for he was the idol of all. -The seven days passed, but on the eighth no Algy appeared. - -"'Private Algy de Verepot absent, sir,' was the report on the morning -parade. It startled everybody. It was the talk of the garrison, and -caused grief among the ladies in town. Had he been killed! Had he -deserted! What had happened! These were the topics of the day. Algy's -disappearance caused more commotion than the coronation of a king. And -then some strange things were discovered. - -"£300 had been stolen from the adjutant's safe. - -"A sergeant had lost his false teeth. - -"Algy's servant missed all his furlough money. - -"The colonel's wife had given Algy a cheque for £50. - -"Five officers had lent him a fiver. - -"And a barmaid from the town was missing. 'It can't be Algy who has done -this!' said the regiment. - -"'It was Algy,' telegraphed the police from London, for he was arrested -there, and got five years' penal servitude. - -"Now, who do you think Algy was?" - -"Tell us," cried Spud. - -"Algy was the biggest crook in London. He was proved to be the man who -stole King Edward's dressing-bag at Euston Station." - -Just as Dominie had completed this yarn, the whole canteen was startled -with the shout, "Who's a liar?" - -"You are--you stole ma pint o' beer--ye thocht I wis drunk." - -"Awa' an' bile yer heid," said the aggressor, a tramp piper, whose -doublet was well soaked with ale. - -Bang! went the fist of the aggrieved private on the piper's nose. In a -second the place was turned topsy-turvy. All joined in the fight. Lamps -were smashed, tables crashed on the floor, glasses hurled across the -room, and all the windows cracked. For ten minutes a deadly battle was -waged in the inky darkness. And then some one shouted, "Scoot, boys, -scoot--here's the picket coming." And they did scoot. Some jumped -through the windows, others hustled through the doors, and then -half-staggering and running they reached their barrack-rooms, where, -like true Militiamen, they tumbled quietly into bed. - -Next morning the Glesca Mileeshy paraded with black eyes and battered -noses. As this was the usual thing after pay-day, the colonel simply -smiled, and gave the order, "Form fours--right--double march." While -they were galloping round the square, this commander remarked, "D---- -rascals, but d---- good soldiers." - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -THE GARRISON LIGHTWEIGHT. - - -_Spud_, having experienced the usual ragging affairs, was now a -full-fledged confidant of the older hands. And being of a mischievous -turn of mind, he seized every opportunity to play tricks on his -unsuspecting comrades. These ragging affairs were great or small -according to the mental and physical fitness of the unfortunates. A -powerful recruit was let down easily, for obvious reasons. A weakling or -"saftie" had "to go through the mill" in an unorthodox way. Beefy -M'Fadyen was of the latter kind. Like all of us, he had a pet delusion. -His was, that Nature had destined him for a bantam lightweight. As a -matter of fact, Beefy couldn't knock a herring off a plate. Still, that -did not prevent him from coddling his puny biceps and tackling all the -penny automatic punch-balls in the ice-cream shops of the garrison. He -devoured boxing literature by the yard, and would slide down the chimney -of the Sporting Club to get a free peep at the cracks of the noble art. -Naturally, this tickled the funny side of all, especially Spud, who -casually inquired of him one day if he could be his trainer. - -"Of coorse," said Beefy. - -"What d'ye usually train on?" - -"Weel, I've had tae get fit on fish suppers, ice-cream, and woodbines." - -"And have you boxed ony champions?" - -"Oh ay--Wee Broon o' the Coocaddens, and Pud Webster o' the Gallowgate." - -"But they're schule laddies. Hooever, that disnae maitter. I'll get ye -in training tae box Curly Broon, the ex-champion o' the Garrison." - -"Richt ye are." - -"But mind ye, Beefy," said Spud solemnly, "you've tae dae whut I tell -ye." - -"Certainly." - -"Noo, the first thing you've got tae dae is tae haund owre yer piy on -piy-days." - -"Whut fur?" - -"Tae get beef-steaks, kippers, an' four ale--that's the stuff tae get -yer muscles up." - -This and other arrangements were duly completed. In the evening it was -publicly announced that Beefy was in training to fight the champion -named. The training was somewhat rigorous. After five gallops round the -barrack square, Spud applied a hose-pipe to the body of his man. Then -coarse towels were used, and now and again Beefy's limbs were scoured -with dripping and bath-brick. As he was a little weak in the joints, a -touch of blacking was painted round "tae keep oot the cauld." Minor -contests were got up in the meantime, and in all these it was arranged -to let Beefy have the knock-out blow. This whetted his ardour, and when -he was informed that a belt and thirty shillings was to be the prize at -the great contest, he became doubly keen. - -One Wednesday afternoon, when the officers were having a lawn-tennis -party on the green, Spud called his man into the training quarters. -There he daubed the usual blacking on his knee and ankle joints, rubbed -ham fat on the remainder of his body; next dressed him up in a comic -harrier kit, decorated with a skull and cross-bones. - -"Noo, Beefy, d'ye see yon green whaur the ladies an' officers are haein' -tea an' tennis?" - -"Ay." - -"Weel, ye've tae gallop roon' that twenty times wife-beating stoppin'." - -"Richt ye are, Spud." - -"Ready?" - -"Ay." - -"Go." Off went the poor, unsuspecting mortal. As soon as he started, a -hundred waiting heads popped out of the windows to see the fun. Meantime -Beefy had reached the green, and, true to his trust, commenced to gallop -round. The colonel's wife spotted him first. The awful apparition sent -her pale. Mrs M'Haddie, the Provost's wife, let out a shriek, but nearly -all the young ladies and subalterns burst into peals of laughter. -Colonel Corkleg, however, fumed and cursed like Marlborough's troops in -Flanders. - -"Stop----" - -"Who----" - -"What----" - -"Why----" shrieked the old commander, as he pursued Beefy round the -green. - -Beefy, however, simply grinned in an inane manner and kept on. He was in -training for the garrison belt. That, to him, was a very serious affair, -and he did not intend to allow any interference--even from Colonel -Corkleg. But he had yet to reckon with the adjutant. That officer -ordered the bugler to sound the Fall in, at the same time letting loose -a couple of bulldogs. The result was that in three minutes half the -Glesca Mileeshy were in swift pursuit of the light-footed Beefy. He -dodged, then led them round the barrack square, to the secret delight of -Spud and his mischief-makers. Then came the end. With a deathlike gasp -he fell into the arms of Sergeant-Major Fireworks. - -"What do you mean?" yelled this monument of army rations. - -"I'm trainin'." - -"Training?" - -"Ay, trainin' for the garrison belt." - -"Put him in the guardroom, corporal," roared the sergeant-major, and off -went poor Beefy to the cells. - -Next morning the whole story came out at the orderly-room, and Beefy -M'Fadyen was awarded fourteen days Confined to Barracks. - -This did not postpone the fight. Oh no. Beefy's delusion was a permanent -affair, and he would fight his rival by hook or by crook. Arrangements, -however, had to be made secretly. The key of the gymnasium was quietly -appropriated on the night of the tussle, and after dark the whole -regiment trooped in. - -"Gentlemen," said Spud Tamson, "allow me to introduce Beefy M'Fadyen, -the Champion Bantam Weight o' the Glesca Mileeshy. He has been trained -on woodbines, fish suppers, ice-cream, haddies, an' Dublin stout, and -turns the scale at 9 st. 10 lb. He's a beauty. His muscles are like -corks, and his wind as soond as the wind in bellows--walk up." - -Beefy entered the ring, shook hands with Curly Broon, then sparred. All -laughter was duly suppressed at a wink from Spud, for his man had to be -impressed with the seriousness of the business. Beefy commenced by -hopping round like a cat on a hot plate, delivering natty little blows -at his opponent's chest. Curly accepted all without any pretence of -defence. This roused the hopes of Beefy higher still, and of course he -was cheered to his task. - -"Go on, Beefy." - -"Give him a thick ear." - -"Under the belt." - -"That's it--slip it across him." - -These were some of the remarks. To be brief, in the tenth round, he -delivered a severe blow under Curly's chin. With a well-feigned grunt -and a hopeless sigh, Curly collapsed like a pack of cards. There was a -rousing cheer, and Spud gladly held out his hand to the victor. - -Producing a big leather belt made out of old straps and studded with -various cap and collar badges, Spud fixed this round the champion's -waist. Another member presented a tin medal neatly fixed on some old red -serge. Then all let out three lusty cheers. - -"Noo, Beefy, you've got tae step intae the officers' mess for your -prize-money--jist as ye are. The colonel'll gie ye the money at the -table." Unsuspecting, Beefy glibly complied, while Spud and his friends -took post in the darkest corners to watch the affair. - -The officers were having dinner at the time, in fact they had just -arrived at that part where the band plays the National Anthem, and the -subaltern of the day proposes the toast of-- - - "Gentlemen--The King!" - -when in burst Beefy M'Fadyen all perspiring and somewhat bruised--a -perfect nightmare in his boxing attire. All the young officers burst out -laughing, but the colonel roared, "Silence, gentlemen!" Then, turning to -Beefy, he said--"How dare you enter the officers' mess? What do you -mean, sir?" - -"I waant my prize-money." - -"What money--you fool?" - -"Ma thirty bob for knockin' oot Curly Broon." - -"Who sent you here?" - -"Spud Tamson." - -"Well--get out." - -"Nae fear--I waant ma thirty bob. You'll no frichten me," said Beefy, -sitting down on a chair. - -"You--you--you--insubordinate scoundrel. How--how--dare you!" shouted -the old colonel, getting red at the neck. - -"Keep your hair on, auld cock," said Beefy. - -"Send for the guard, adjutant." - -In a few minutes an escort appeared, and Beefy, the vaunted champion, -was seized and carried forcibly to the guardroom. All that was heard as -he was hustled away was, "I waant ma thirty bob." - -Spud Tamson got fourteen days cells for this little trick, and poor -Beefy received a paper stating, "You are discharged from His Majesty's -Service as unlikely to become an efficient soldier." - -"What dis that mean, Spud?" said Beefy, showing him the paper as he was -leaving. - -"It jist means that _you're_ daft." - -"Weel, Spud, I'm no' sae green as I'm cabbage-lookin'. Ta-ta." And this -was true, for next day nearly every man in the Glesca Mileeshy had lost -his spare shirts, socks, and boots. - -"Jings, he's no' sae daft efter a'," was Spud's final comment on the -departed boxer. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -A LECTURE. - - -_It_ was Lord Wolseley, I think, who discovered that the ordinary -soldier had really got brains. When this startling discovery was made, -the General Staff realised that lectures were necessary, so that the -headpieces of the troops might be of greater use in war. Lectures were -accordingly devised, and these consisted of various military topics. -Everything--from the cutting of the soldiers' corns to the washing of -army babies--was noted down. Company officers were entrusted with this -important duty. Many performed the work in an interesting way, others -made a hash of it. This was due to their profusion--or lack--of brain -power. And of the Militia--well, the War Office did not expect too much. -It was therefore interesting to listen to Captain Coronet tackling this -job. - -"Men," he would say, "I want to talk to you about Active Service; first -of all, Tamson, just explain the exact meaning of the word 'enemy.'" - -"The Germans," answered Spud promptly. - -"Well--not exactly. Of course I know they're beastly people--beer -drinkers and sausage guzzlers. Still, that doesn't say that the word -'enemy' means that race in particular. What is your opinion, M'Whiskey?" - -"Niggers, sir." - -"Not necessarily; the enemy may be white or black. But the meaning is -simply this, any force opposed to----" - -"The Mileeshy," interjected some one. - -"Well, have it that way if you care. Now, M'Ginty, what is the first -thing expected of a soldier in the field?" - -"The salute, sir." - -"No--Instant Obedience. And what is the next thing, M'Haggis?" - -"He should waash his feet." - -"That's important, certainly, otherwise your feet will become -objectionable. Now, the second thing is Courage; and the third, Doolan?" - -"Head erect an' thumbs in line with the seam of the troose, sir," said -Doolan, glibly repeating some of the Drill Instructor's patter. - -"I'm afraid you couldn't keep your head erect, et cetera, if the enemy -was potting bullets into that beery corporation of yours. The third -thing is Endurance. What does that mean, Tamson?" - -"The Prudential, sir." - -"Prudential! What the d---- is that?" - -"Threepence a week--insurin' your life--ye ken fine, a' you toffs are -insured." - -"Don't be so beastly familyah, my man----" - -"Haw--haw," mimicked some one in the back seat. - -"Look here, you pudding-faced fellow," said the captain, adjusting his -monocle, "I'll kick your posterior if I have any more nonsense--I will." - -Having settled that little affair, the captain proceeded. "Active -Service, men, is different to sham fights. At manoeuvres at home you get -your beef, bread, and extras; on active service it's biscuits, bully -beef, and----" - -"Sudden daith," cheeped a wag. - -"Yes. You're liable to get a fifteen-pound shell into your little Mary -any day. Do you think a man could live after getting a shell there, -Callaghan?" - -"Depends on his chist measurement, sur." - -"I'm afraid he wouldn't have any chest after that. He would be----" - -"Irish stew." - -"Exactly." - -"Now, what is the first thing you do when you see the enemy?" - -"Take his name an' address, sir," said a sheepish-looking recruit who -had been chucked out of the Police Force. - -"Oh! I'm afraid he would have your life while you were doing that. No, -my lad--get under cover, and then----" - -"Knock his lights out." - -"That's the sort of answer I want. But how would you knock him out?" - -"Below the belt, sir," cheeped Tamson. - -"Look here, Tamson, this isn't a bally boxing-school. And don't be so -flippant. What you have got to do, men, is Shoot--and Shoot well. And -what I next want to know is, what happens after a force has concentrated -a severe rifle-fire on an enemy's position for a considerable time?" - -"Stick yer bayonets in their guts," answered M'Whiskey. - -"That's how Carlyle would put it, and that's just exactly what you have -got to do. But when advancing to the Charge, what does the attacking -party do?" - -"Makes a hellifa noise, sir." - -"Certainly, but it's not necessary to use these Gallowgate adjectives. -Adjectives are all right when you're thrusting the sausages inside a -German's stomach. In fact, the more you curse and yell when charging the -enemy, the greater will be the effect of the charge." - -"What's an adjective, sir?" inquired some one. - -"An adjective's a d---- nasty expression--a swear word." - -"But hoo d'ye no' let us sweer at a lectur' an' tell us tae sweer at a -Cherge?" piped in Spud Tamson. - -"My dear fellow, you're a positive bore. But I will tell you--in peace -time a soldier is expected to be a gentleman; in active service he's got -to be a lunatic. That's the A B C of it all. To continue, though--what -do you do after the Charge is over?" - -"Search the deid men's pooches," chirrupped a Coocaddens lad. - -"A natural thing for you--for all of you. You're all pickpockets, I -hear." - -"No me," said Spud. - -"What are you?" - -"Rag and bone merchant." - -"Beastly job--no wonder you want a wash. That by the way. After a Charge -you have to assist in routing the enemy. And then----" - -"The canteen opens, sir," said an old hand with a grin. - -"Well, as the canteen is open now, and I have got a couple of spare -half-crowns, you had better fall out." - -"You're a guid yin, sir," said Spud with a familiar wink. - -"Get out and don't be so beastly familyah," concluded the captain, -adjusting his monocle, stretching his tunic, then marching out like an -advertisement for corsets and hair-wash. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -ANNUAL TRAINING. - - -_The_ annual training of the Glesca Mileeshy was an event of importance. -It cleared the Models and allowed the local policemen an opportunity for -holidays. To the gallant Militiamen the training meant six weeks' pay, a -bounty, his shirts, and a pair of boots. The shirts and boots were -important items, for many arrived shirtless and almost bootless. As the -average Militiaman had no permanent place of abode, he was summoned to -camp by a proclamation in big type, which was pasted on the kirk, -police, and public-house doors. This notice was hardly necessary. The -men enjoyed the training, and were always pleased when the date came -round. They journeyed to their headquarters in various ways. Some -cheerfully hoofed it; others rode in their tinker's carts; but the -majority went by train. When they arrived in Blacktoon, they found a -hearty welcome prepared by the local publicans. Tons of bread and cheese -were cut and ready; fresh barrels turned on; and hauf mutchkins piled up -behind the counter ready for the fray. There was a wild rush for these -bars, and above the din nought could be heard but the clamouring for "a -gill and a pint." - -"Hello, M'Greegor, whaur hae ye been a' this time?" - -"In Barlinnie." - -"Whut fur?" - -"Takin' the len' o' anither chap's watch. But what hae ye been daein' -yersel', Wull?" - -"The same auld job." - -"Naethin'?" - -"Na, I'm in the umbrella trade, ye ken, an' the wife's on the road wi' -me. She sells laces, an' mooches the grub. Man, it's the best thing I -ever did, when I got mairret. There's naething like a wife tae work for -ye, lad." - -This is a sample of the greetings exchanged over the foaming ale. When -all had sufficient, and were more or less groggy about the legs, they -sallied out into the streets _en route_ for the barracks. Of course the -town was prepared. The Chief Constable had a "Guard of Honour" right to -the barracks gate, while the Parish Minister had quietly lectured the -old maids and young maids to be indoors on that occasion. The more timid -shopkeepers "baured the windows and door," but all the bairns turned out -to see the fun. Up the streets they leisurely ambled, some mumbling on -the way-- - - "Soon we'll be married - Never more to part, - For little Annie Rooney - She is my sweetheart." - -Others warbled-- - - "I'm fu' the noo, I'm absolutely fu', - But I adore the country I was born in. - My name is Jock M'Craw, - An' I dinnae care a straw, - For I've something in the bottle for the mornin'." - -But the majority sang-- - - "We're soldiers of the King, my lads, - Who've been, my lads, who've seen, my lads, - The fights for Britain's Glory, lads, - When we've had to show them what we mean; - And when they ask us how it's done, - We proudly point to every one-- - Yes, we proudly point to every one - Of Britain's soldiers of the King." - -And in this stirring tune all eventually joined, formed into a rough -formation, and tramped nobly through the barracks gate and on to the -square. Colonel Corkleg's eyes moistened with emotion as he saw them -come in. If they were rough dogs, he knew them to be faithful, and he -lived for the day when he would lead them into action once more. They -were immediately formed into companies, given out their kits, and told -to change--but not in the barracks rooms. Oh no, that was never -permitted, for the plain reason "that their own clothes could 'walk.'" -They changed in the open, which necessitated the drawing of the blinds -in the married quarters. - -All were thankful to discard their unsanitary rags, and feel the comfort -of good shirts, uniforms, and boots. The better suits of clothing were -packed away, but many of the more tattered and torn had to be destroyed. -This outfitting occupied most of the day. At 5 _P.M._ the bugle sounded -"Fall in." The parade, of course, was unsteady, nearly every man being -fu'. But when old Colonel Corkleg yelled, "Glesca Mileeshy--'Shun," -there was a lull and a steadiness which displayed the soldier born. - -"All present, sir," reported the adjutant. - -"Form fours--right--by the left--quick march." Off they stepped to "The -Cock o' the North," played by the pipers, and followed by "Stop your -ticklin', Jock," drummed out by the band. As they marched through the -gates, there was a rousing cheer from the ladies in shawls, who quickly -spotted their particular "lovers." These women yelled out a parting -jest, and the glib reminder, "Send me a quid oot o' yer bounty." - -"Mebbe," was the reply of all, for Militiamen are absent-minded beggars. - -Discipline works wonders. By the time the regiment had reached Bogmoor -Camp all were thoroughly sober and obedient. Strange to relate, they -found themselves camped side by side with the Perth Mileeshy, a -notorious body, recruited from the marmalade and jute-making town of -Dundee. These regiments were deadly rivals, and the reason was not far -to seek. In the Grand Manoeuvres held ten years previous to the camp -mentioned, the Perth Mileeshy had mutinied and robbed the Glesca -Mileeshy canteen. This terrible breach of courtesy was never forgotten, -and anger was always stirred when both corps were deep in their cups. -The trouble commenced again on this, the first night in camp. And all -through an old Glesca hand, who remembered that the Perth Mileeshy had -broken the square in the Soudan Campaign. This daring gent stalked into -the Perthshire's canteen. - -"What d'ye waant?" asked the waiter, somewhat surlily. - -"Ceevility first, and then a pint o' broken squares." - -"Chuck him oot! Chuck him oot," shouted a dozen enraged Perthshire -hands. - -"Gie's that pint," said the Glesca man quite coolly, and after his first -mouthful he turned to the "enemy" and remarked, "You couldna chuck your -denner oot." This was a challenge quickly accepted. In a flash he was -seized and surrounded. But his shouts brought a rallying crowd of the -Glesca Mileeshy, and then the battle commenced. Skin, hair, and blood -went flying. Men hooched, punched, cursed, and yelled. Burly tramps and -burglars laid out their terrific blows on the heads and faces of the -puny "Dundee Jam Sodgers," as they were called. In ten minutes the once -peaceful canteen resembled a shambles. Tables were destroyed, and the -stores of bread, cheese, cigarettes, and beer stolen or scattered -around. The fight, originally confined to a hundred men, eventually -developed into a tussle between eight hundred. Discipline for the moment -was useless. Officers and Non-Coms. were simply swept aside, and though -Colonel Corkleg had a scowl on his face, he had a smile in his -heart--his men were winning, and he hated the Perth Mileeshy like -poison. Nevertheless matters looked black, and something had to be done. -This was Spud Tamson's opportunity for fame and lance-corporal. Rushing -up to the colonel he saluted and said, "Wull I turn the hose pipe on -them, sur?" - -"Good idea, my lad. Yes, put it on, full steam ahead." - -Spud rushed to the water-stand, fixed up the hose, then running it out -he let go. Swish went the cold battering fluid into the angry, -struggling mob. Militiamen hate water as much as they do soap. And -Spud's terrible shower-bath was too much. They broke and fled, the water -and blood trickling down their faces and clothes and damping the stolen -goods in their pockets. Just as they dispersed the "Fall in" sounded. -All doubled on parade, where the roll was called, and the seething -excited mass reduced to silence and order. - -"Parade--'Shun," yelled Colonel Corkleg. They sprang up like the Guards' -Brigade. - -"Every man will empty his pockets of the stolen goods. Then the -companies will march in succession off parade." - -There was a titter and then a chuckle as the sergeants went round and -ordered the looters to lay out their wares on the ground in front. Tins -of paste, blacking, polish, cheese, cakes, cigars, cigarettes, -buttonhooks, lemonade, &c., were quickly disgorged. When finished each -company marched off. When the last one had left the ground the old -colonel quietly chuckled as he looked along the sixteen lines of stolen -goods. - -"D---- rascals, but d---- good soldiers," he muttered. Then, turning to -the sergeant-major, he ordered him to return the wares to the -much-battered canteen of the Perth Mileeshy. - -Next day in the regimental order there appeared: "Promotions--Private -Spud Tamson, promoted Lance-Corporal for meritorious conduct." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -LAUGHTER AND LOVE. - - -"_Paw_!" - -"Ay, wumin," answered Tamson senior, turning from his task of blowing up -his old balloons. - -"Spud's comin' hame on week-end pass, an', d'ye ken----" - -"Whut?" - -"He's been made an officer." - -"Ye're haverin'." - -"I'm no'! Listen," said she, digging a letter out of her old leather -purse and reading aloud-- - - ---- - -"_Dear Mither_,--I'm weel. I hop' you fayther an' the dug's weel. I've -been made a heid yin here. The Kurnel made me a Lance-Korperal for -distingwishet kondukt. I expect to get made a genral in aboot a month. -I'm kumin' hame on pass for a week-end. Love tae a'--an' the dug. - - "_Spud_. - -"_P.S._--Hoo's ma lass. Tell her I'll staun her a slider an' fish supper -when I kum." - - ---- - -"That bates a'," said Tamson, adjusting his specs. "I kent the sodger -bluid o' the Tamson wid mak' a man o' him." - -"He gets his brains onywey frae the McSkelpie's," retorted Mrs Tamson, a -little offended. - -"Awa' wi' ye, wumin. The McSkelpies are a' loonies." - -"Anither word an' I'll leave the hoose! Dinnae insult ma family. They've -ay worn hats on Sunday, an' that's mair than the Tamsons could ever -dae," concluded Mrs Tamson, as she kicked the cat half into the fire. - -"Weel, we'll no' fecht aboot it. You're the best o' the bunch, an' no' a -bad-lookin' lass," old Tamson crooned in a softer tone, for he was a -born diplomat. - -"Thenk ye," she replied a little tartly, but inside she was real -pleased, for she was only a woman after all. - -"An' I say, wife, we'll need tae hae a spree for Spud comin' hame. Hoo's -the funds?" - -"Weel, I've twa shullin's, but we can get five mair on your Sunday -breeks an' that auld knock o' oors." - -"The very thing. Awa' the noo an' see," ordered Tamson. - -Mrs Tamson wrapped the Sunday trousers and eight-day alarm clock in her -apron, then blithely stepped down the stairs on a visit to "Uncle." _En -route_ she announced to all in the close that Spud had been made an -officer in the Mileeshy, and expected to be a general in a month. - -"You'll be haein' a spree," inquired Mrs M'Fatty, the last to hear the -news, and one who shrewdly guessed the meaning of the parcel under Mrs -Tamson's apron. - -"Ay. He'll be hame the nicht. I think I'll get some table beer, iron -brew, finnin haddies, gingerbreid, an' cookies. It'll be a chinge tae -the laddie efter eatin' biscuits an' bully beef. But Ta-ta the noo," and -off she went to the pawnshop. There, the goods which had been regularly -pawned once a week for twenty years, were again handed over in return -for cash. All the necessary goods were next secured, after which the -happy housekeeper returned to her attic in the Gallowgate. - -"You've been decoratin'," she said with a smile as she entered and saw -how the ingenious Tamson had made an arch of Welcome out of coloured -rags and streamers of variegated hues from all the coloured paper -delivered from the middens. - -"Jist that, wumin," he answered, tacking up "Welcome Home" above the -mantelpiece, which completed the general scheme. - -"We'll be prood, prood folks the nicht, missus," Tamson mused as he -slipped his arm round her waist and gave her a peck on the washed -portion of her face. - -"It's a gless o' beer you're efter, ma man--ye ken fine hoo tae get -roon' us puir weemin." - -"Maybe ay, maybe no', but I'll no' refuse it." - -Meantime Spud Tamson, attired in his best, and with ten shillings in his -pocket, was being hurled swiftly from Bogmoor Camp to Glasgow in the -train. Just before he was due at the Central Station the melodeon and -mouth-organ band of the Murder Close Brigade tramped on to the platform -playing "The March of the Cameron Men." A large crowd of girl followers -were also present, and in the centre of these smiling hussies was Mary -Ann, her chubby face suffused with delight and expectancy. This was the -proudest moment of her life, for was she not the chosen lass of -Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson of the Glesca Mileeshy? - -"Here's the train. Here's the train," somebody yelled. - -"Form up," ordered the Chief of the Gallowgate Brigade. A rough line was -formed, the melodeons and mouth-organs in front, and, as the train -steamed in, these blaring instruments bellowed forth "The Cock o' the -North," while the others let loose a deafening cheer to Spud Tamson, who -was hanging out of the carriage with a face like Sunny Jim. - -"Mary!" - -"Spud!" - -There was a wild embrace, which lasted longer than the time allowed by -the official programme. Other greetings were then given. Next the band -formed up, with Spud and his girl in the centre, the remainder following -behind, and off they stepped out of the Central Station to yells and -hoochs and the tune of "The Old Brigade." Traffic had to be suspended at -various points in Argyle Street till the laughing throng marched past. -As they neared the Gallowgate they received a stirring welcome. And from -out of his father's window Spud observed a string of balloons with -"Welcome" painted on their sides. - -The echo of the cheering and the band had completely upset the -equilibrium of Maw Tamson. She dropped the finnin haddies among the -cookies, and mixed table beer with the lemonade. Even the cold-blooded -Tamson was roused. He was hanging over the window waving an old red -shirt, and shouting, "Hooray! Hooray!" The mongrel "dug" was doing a -sort of gaby glide along the waxcloth, while the cat skipped over the -floor in a joyful tango style. - -"He's comin'! He's comin'!" shouted Mrs Tamson at last, at the same time -wiping her large red lips with her rough brown apron. Just then the door -burst open, and Spud, Mary Ann, and the whole crowd entered. - -"Ma son! ma son!" said the excited old lady, grasping the fragile form -of her offspring into her great arms. Her kisses almost lifted the skin -off her hero's face. Indeed, she only released him on his shouting, -"You're chokin' me, Maw." Tamson senior next tendered a hearty welcome. -These formalities over, the company were invited to take seats and be -merry. Of course there was a crush. But Mary Ann was given a place of -honour at the miniature table, while the remainder were accommodated on -the jawbox, dresser, the bed, fender, and coal-bunker. - -"Ye'll jist need tae tak' pot-luck," was Mrs Tamson's opening address, -as she dispensed a bit of potted heid, finnin haddie, gingerbread, a -cookie, and a glass of liquid refreshment all round. - -"Help yersel', Mary," said Spud to his chosen one, at the same time -pressing her foot underneath the table. - -"The'll be a waddin' here next, Mrs Tamson," piped in shrewd Mrs -M'Fatty. - -"It's anither free feed ye're efter, I'm thinkin'," retorted Spud, with -a wink at his beaming Maw. "Onywey, I'll no' get mairret till I'm a -gen'ral." - -After supper there was a general entertainment. Paw Tamson danced the -Fling and the Hornpipe, just as he used to do at the Hielanmen's Corner; -Maw sang-- - - "Spud, he is ma daurlin', ma daurlin', - Spud, he is ma daurlin', - An' a braw Chevalier." - -This was followed by solos on the melodeon and mouth-organ, and then -came the dance. The old attic fairly shivered with the rattle of the -feet. Indeed, Paw Tamson sat breathlessly waiting for the surging floor -to crash through to the neighbours below. An equally startling thing -occurred. In the middle of a barn dance, all gave a thrilling jump and a -hooch. This loosened the clothes-pulley on the roof of the house below. -Down it went with a crash, tearing the clock, pictures, and dish-racks -with it, as well as striking the bald and withered head of Paw Grumpie, -a hereditary foe of the Tamsons. - -"Thae d---- balloon an' candy keelies," he groaned, at the same time -seizing the poker and rushing upstairs. With a kick he smashed in a -panel of the door, then flinging it open, he dashed in, followed by all -the Grumpie clan. In a minute a joyful party was turned into a regular -vendetta. Pokers, brooms, dishes, mats, and haddie bones were freely -used, and it was only the cry of "Polis" which ended this startling -combat. As the Tamson party heard the echo of the bobbies' feet, they -fled to their various buts and bens, leaving Spud and Mary Ann to sweep -up the wreckage, and renew in private their tender endearments. - -"Guid nicht, Mary," said he at the close, later on, giving her one more -kiss. - -"Guid nicht, Spud, an' ye'll see me the morn?" - -"Oh ay." - -"An' you'll aye be true tae me?" - -"True as daith," he said, gripping her firmly by the hand. Giving her -another kiss and a wave of his hand, he shouted, "Ta-ta," and made for -bed. - -Mary Ann's sleep that night was one long rosy dream. She lived in a land -of love, and the hero of it all was this gallant Lance-Corporal of the -Glesca Mileeshy. She longed for the coming day, to renew the hours of -bliss; but, alas! that never came. For her early slumbers were shaken by -the newsboys' cry of "War--Troops for the Front." Her first thoughts -were of Spud, and she flew to his abode, but all she saw was Mrs Tamson, -as pale as death, and sitting with a tear-stained telegram in her hand. - -"Spud's awa'--read that," said she to Mary, with a sob. The girl gripped -it feverishly, then saw-- - - "Lance-Corporal _Spud Tamson_ Regiment for Active Service Rejoin - immediately. - - _Adjutant_." - -"God help me!" shrieked the girl, swooning away on the floor, for the -poor can love perhaps more truly than the rich. - - - - -CHAPTER X. -MOBILISATION. - - -_When_ Spud arrived at Bogmoor Camp he found the regiment in an excited -but jovial mood. They were going to war. War, to militiamen, meant -bounties, blood, and loot. Though these men were, in many ways, the -scrapings of humanity, they had those rugged, almost brutal qualities -essential in war. Like bulldogs, they could bite, and once having -nibbled an enemy, they could hang on till the end. Of course the -regiment was not up to war strength in officers or men. That deficiency, -however, was being attended to. Hundreds of men had been already wired -for. These were known as the Militia Reserve, or "The Royal Standbacks," -to quote the barrack-room wags. All day they came trooping in; some from -the open road, others from the Model, a few quite recently from the -jail. They all looked like villains in their muddy rags, but once in -khaki, many had the appearance of real good Guardsmen. Naturally, there -were many reunions, and these had to be sealed in beer. The canteen -quickly became a Tower of Babel, wreathed in thick tobacco smoke, and -permeated with the nauseating breath of the merry Falstaffs, who -incessantly called for the proverbial pint. Discipline was not exacted -on this, the first day. It was useless to expect it; the officers knew -the calibre of their men. - -While the men were thus celebrating the "Great Day," and discussing how -they would dispose of Kaiser Bill, the officers were also arriving from -many corners of the land. Some came post-haste from the grouse moors; -others had hurried from Piccadilly; a few had been dug out of ruined -castles, where they represented a poor but splendid nobility. Of course -there were new hands. These gentlemen came from the O.T.C., in official -language, The Officers' Training Corps. This is an organisation devised -by a great War Minister to create heroes out of Carnegie's pet children -at our universities. In theory, a perfect system: in practice, at times -disappointing. There being no compulsion, the more robust students had -shunned the Corps, leaving its ranks open to a few keen, and a greater -number of the health culture species, who recognised that a -drill-sergeant might improve their chest measurement and digestion. -Still it was a scheme acquired in the Lager-laden garrisons of Germany, -and we Britishers, perforce, had accepted it as the hall-mark of German -military efficiency. However, Second Lieutenants Briefs, Coals, and -Grain were detached to this Militia regiment and duly arrived. Briefs, -who was studying for the law, arrived in a greatcoat, with an umbrella -above his military accoutrements to keep off the rain. As this umbrella -trick was the particular prerogative of the late Duke of Cambridge, -Briefs was immediately arrested by his brother subalterns for being -"Improperly dressed," and forced to pay drinks all round. Drinks all -round are very expensive in His Majesty's Service. He never erred again. -Second Lieutenant Coals was vomited out of one of his father's pits. He -was as black as the devil's waistcoat, and as big as a bullock. He -didn't know much about form fours, but he could kill a pit pony with a -punch and chuck a man over his head. "A useful man," the colonel -whispered to the adjutant, and then in a louder tone remarked, "Put Mr -Coals in No. 3 Company." This company, by the way, had its records in -the poaching and wife-beating annals of every Parish Council. Coals was -therefore in a sphere where his hulking personality would be useful. - -Second Lieutenant Grain had the smell of horses about him. He was -studying for medicine, but he knew more about his father's Clydesdales. -Indeed, when he arrived, his boots had the scent of the stable, and his -coat a few stray wisps of straw sticking around. A rough but likely -looking chap. The colonel saw this, and after looking him up and down -remarked, "You'll be transport officer. Here are some warrants--go out -anywhere, everywhere, for two days. Commandeer 107 horses, and mind--no -crocks." - -"Very good, sir," replied Grain, disappearing with the transport -sergeant. He returned two days later with 107 thoroughbred hunters, -Clydesdales, and roadsters. The colonel gasped when he saw them on the -square, and promptly stood the subaltern a drink. - -"Useful man, that Grain," he said to the adjutant that night. "The -O.T.C. has been kind to us, if they've been unkind to other regiments. -Get him gazetted lieutenant." - -This was one instance of the work of mobilisation. And mobilisation, I -can assure you, is enough to send men to the grave. Think of gathering -1200 men, then fitting them out for war. Trousers came from Pimlico, -buttons from Birmingham, thread from Timbuctoo, jackets from the -sewing-rooms of the Hebrews, while rifles came in instalments from -Woolwich, Stirling, Ashanti, and Lahore. Shovels were found in the -ironmongers next the barracks; shirts were collared in the nearest -emporium; plates, basins, knives, forks, and spoons were found in the -fish and chip bazaars of the town. "Buy locally," was the order from the -C.O.O.--(the Chief Ordnance Officer)--a very important personage, whose -duty is to supply everything, from siege guns to bed pans. Imagine the -worry! The Quartermaster took heart disease and died; the -Quartermaster-Sergeant got drunk and was reduced, and so the work -devolved upon a faithful corporal and a few intelligent aides. But the -work went on, for Colonel Corkleg was a soldier. He might easily have -given Napoleon points in organisation for war. - -Accommodation was also difficult. No more tents could be had. Twenty men -were therefore crammed into these little canvas homes. To avoid a plague -and prevent bloodshed, the colonel ordered all men to place their socks -outside the tents. If you know the Militia you will understand. But even -tents have their limits. The newer arrivals had to be billeted in the -homes of the citizens near by. These Weary Willies lolled in their -feather beds like princes. It was a hustling time. The colonel cursed -from reveille till tattoo. Still, in seven days he had the job done, and -wired to the War Office--"Ready." - -Back came the reply, "Proceed at once to Mudtown, for Coast Defence." - -"Coast Defence!" muttered the old colonel, purple with rage. "Coast -Defence!...!...?..." - -His after-remarks cannot be printed, for he was a true soldier. He -wanted to see Red Blood--not the billets of a seaside town. He could -handle his men in a battle like a boy playing "bools," but billets, he -knew, meant worry, trouble, and crime. Still, orders were orders, and he -at once obeyed. In three hours the regiment stood in marching order, and -to the tune of "Hielan' Laddie" blithely marched to the train. It was -followed by thousands--wives, sweethearts, mothers, and friends. There -were tears, cheers, and jeers. - -"Here's a scone, Jimmy, keep up yer heirt," said an old budie, throwing -a tartan-coloured scone to her son. - -"Hie, you!" shouted a woman in a shawl to a roguish-looking private with -an amorous leer in his eye. - -"Me!" he answered mockingly. - -"Ay, you--ye hinnae paid for yer wean--ye low rascal. But I'll pit the -polis on ye--ye'll no diddle me." - -"Yer haverin'; awa' an' waash yer een;" and on marched the careless -prodigal to the train. - -"Haw, look at oor Jock--he's the only man in step," yelled the admirer -of Jock Broon, a fifteen-stone corporal, whose belt was too small and -tied with string. - -"Is that oor Tam?" queried a half-blind woman, as a rakish-looking youth -went by. - -"He's thin enough for a pull through," interjected a friend of Tam's. - -"An' there's Puddin' Johnson--he's awfu' like a barrel." - -"I weesh I wis a barrel--I'm awfu' dry," answered the man concerned. - -Behind this valiant stepped Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson, his chest puffed -out like a bantam and his calves well stuffed with cotton wool. He was -an important person, for he marched in the supernumerary rank. Dignity -was part of his job. Still, he had time to wink at the lassies as he -went by. Close to the station he sighted his fond parent somewhat elated -with the thoughts of war, and aided by the cheapest gin. He would show -him something. - -"Left--right--left--March by the right," yelled Spud, as his section -struggled and rolled up to the waiting train. - -"Guid, Spud! Guid! You've the bluid o' the Tamsons. Man, I'm prood o' -ye." Spud winked and passed on. - -After the halt was given, entraining commenced. Now, it is a rule in the -service that when a regiment entrains every door and every bar of the -station has to be guarded to prevent the rush for liquid refreshments. -Colonel Corkleg had duly provided for this, and smiled grimly as he -quickly entrained his men. Nearly all had been settled in their -carriages when he was startled by a queer sound from the other side of -the line. He went to the end of the train and looked across. "Well, I'm -d----," he muttered. This is what had happened. As quickly as the bold -Militiamen had been ushered into their compartments, the more daring -quietly opened the doors on the other side of the train, jumped down on -to the rails and clambering on to the platform rushed the refreshment -bar. The colonel saw hundreds struggling and fighting for "a gill and a -pint" round three demented waitresses. It was an awkward moment, but -Colonel Corkleg had experienced many in his life. For such moments he -had one really trusty man. This was Sergeant Bludgeon, the -provost-sergeant, an ex-champion wrestler and hammer-thrower. He had -muscles like boxing-gloves, and he never struck a man without -dislocating his framework. His stick was the most powerful thing in the -regiment. It had quelled many mutinies. Thus was it called in again. -Sergeant Bludgeon knew what was in the colonel's brain, for he stood -twitching his murderous-looking stick in anticipation of orders. - -"Sergeant Bludgeon--clear 'em out," the colonel ordered. - -Bludgeon was across the line in a flash. Like a cyclone he fell on to -the stragglers in rear. Half pushing and pitching, he dumped a dozen -back on to the rails, then with a superhuman jerk he burst into the bar. -His great stick whirled in the air and fell with a terrific clash on to -the marble slab. There was a fearful clattering of pots, glasses, and -money, as the startled men jumped back; next came a click of heels as -Bludgeon thundered, "'Shun." Every man stood as still and erect as Roman -sentinels. - -"About turn." They whipped round like men of the Guards. - -"Double march," finally roared the provost-sergeant as they scampered -out of the bar. In three minutes every man was back in the train. - -"All correct, sir," said Sergeant Bludgeon grimly, a few minutes later, -to the colonel, who had quietly observed the scene. - -"Any casualties?" queried the colonel with a grin, as he looked at the -sergeant's stick. - -"None, sir,--this time." - -"Thank you, sergeant," concluded the colonel, ordering the train to go. -As it slipped out amidst the deafening cheers, he turned and remarked to -the adjutant-- - -"Useful man, that!--useful man!" - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - -The journey to Mudtown was a long one--sufficiently long to allow some -of the inebriates time to soak into their bodies a few "hauf mutchkins" -and some bottles of Bass. This refreshment, with the heat and roll of -the train, quickly let loose the lung-power of the crowd. They sang, -danced, and yelled with a devilish delight, and at times threatened -disaster to every window and every N.C.O. in the carriages. Poor Spud -Tamson shivered in his corner. He was in charge of eight tough-looking -pirates, who knew neither fear nor pain. Fortunately they regarded -Spud's stripe as a necessary evil, and eventually left him alone. And so -pandemonium reigned till Mudtown came in sight. The fame of the Glesca -Mileeshy had travelled before them. There was no civic welcome. The -Provost had locked his chain and robes of office up in his safe; while -his nervous citizens sat fearfully in their little suburban homes. In -every manse the minister prayed for guidance in the coming trials; while -every mother gathered her daughters round and told them that, on no -account, must they go out at nights. They became still more alarmed when -the news trickled round that the regiment was to be billeted in church -halls, picture houses, and other public buildings near. It was -monstrous, they argued. How dare the War Office do such a thing? They -would protest. Poor ignorant souls, they did not know their danger. They -never realised the perils of invasion; nor the fact that they had in -their midst the toughest and finest bunch of fighters in the British -Army. Drunkards and devils, may be, but soldiers to a man. Meantime, the -tradesmen of Mudtown beamed with delight. They had no use or time for -the men as men, but they were delighted with the prospect of a boom in -trade. And, of course, the publicans were careful to hoist the Union -Jack above their barrels, and put out the sign, "All Soldiers Welcome -Here." - -A bugle-call in Mudtown Station was the signal to get out of the train. -The men rolled, jumped, and staggered down. The more merry chorused-- - - "I'm fu' the noo, I'm absolutely fu', - But I adore the country I was born in. - My name is Jock M'Craw, - But I dinnae care a straw, - For I've something in the bottle for the mornin'." - -"Silence," roared the mountainous Sergeant-Major Fireworks. His voice -made the station tremble, and the men gave a perceptible shiver as they -fell into the ranks. Sergeant-Majors are wonderful men. - -"Form fours--right," ordered the colonel, and into the town stepped the -famous corps of Militiamen. They staggered bravely on till the halt was -given in a sort of square. There the billeting officer met them, and -issued the accommodation orders. The regiment then divided to the -various halls and billets in the town. Spud Tamson found himself and his -company in an old church, and, strange to say, he was allotted the -pulpit as his doss. This was hardly in keeping with his theology, but -such is the fortune of war. Another company was shoved into an old -picture house, the platform of which was promptly captured as a -rendezvous for card-playing and clog dancing. Barns, stables, and old -manor-houses accommodated the remaining companies. Flower gardens were -immediately converted into cook-houses; wash-houses became -colour-sergeants' parlours, and old closets were cornered as the special -quarters of such important people as the cooks and pioneers. A disused -backyard with a tarpaulin over was transformed into the quartermaster's -stores. This quickly became a centre of curiosity. Citizens were much -interested and amused to observe ration parties coming out from this -place, their loaves of bread in somewhat doubtful blankets, and great -chunks of juicy red beef in their horny hands. Hunger, however, is "good -sauce, while plain feeding means high thinking,"--so the philosophers -say. Colonel Corkleg sometimes disagreed about the high thinking. In -fact, he believed that the issue of one pound of beef per man was -designed to give soldiers a primitive lust for blood. - -It is easy to imagine the difficulties of training, organising, and -disciplining a battalion in billets. It is like trying to make -alligators out of snakes. Men get into all sorts of corners when they -ought to be on parade. Visitors are also a nuisance. Maiden ladies will -insist on entering to read the New Testament while the men are careering -round in their somewhat spare night attire. Deputations frequently -arrive with shortbread and liquid refreshments for their pals just as -the colonel is making his inspection. And the night-birds find the -windows a convenient exit into the darkness where they may pursue the -antics of the owl. Can you wonder, then, that the officers felt -depressed? Still, difficulties are made to be conquered, and Colonel -Corkleg determined to conquer them. Sergeant-Major Fireworks and -Sergeant Bludgeon would see to that. - -Meantime the regiment, like the civil population of the country, was -most excited about the German advance. Belgium was to be invaded, Paris -taken, next London, and then--Mudtown. So there was really a chance of -seeing service in their own native land. That was a solace to the -bloodthirsty warriors. During many of these discussions in the billets -some wag incidentally remarked that Mudtown was crammed full of German -waiters. - -"Germans! Whaur?" queried the patriotic Spud. - -"In a' the hotels," replied the informer, Micky Cameron by name. - -"They're spies," declared Spud, who had read all the penny horribles in -his days. - -"Ay, 'yin o' them gied me a pint, an' asked me hoo mony men were in the -regiment." - -"I tell't ye," declared our heroic lance-corporal, who then declared his -intention of leading an attack on the German waiters. - -"A'm wi' ye," declared Micky Cameron. - -"An' me." - -"An' me." - -"An' me," shouted many others all over the room. That settled the -attack, and made Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson conjure up visions of fame -and promotion by his daring night raids on the hotels. A conference was -next called to discuss details. - -"Should we shoot them?" asked Micky. - -"Na, that'll mak' owre much noise," interjected Spud. - -"I've an awfu' guid razor," remarked Beefy M'Lean, as he thumbed a -murderous-looking blade. Other methods were suggested, such as -pole-axing, hanging, and tying them up in barbed wire. But the cautious -spirit, engendered by Tamson's stripe, ruled all these murderous designs -out of order. - -"Let's mak' them a' prisoners an' march them to the colonel." This was -finally agreed to, and the party sallied out to tackle the first -hotel--namely, The Grand, where twenty waiters were employed. - -"Whaur are ye gaun?" a sentry asked. - -"Active Service," chirped Micky Cameron, giving him a wink. - -On arriving at the hotel they tackled the back door. A patriotic -kitchen-maid told them that the waiters were upstairs in their bedrooms. - -"But there's wan," she remarked, pointing to a portly Teuton carrying a -salver into the dining-room. - -"Charge!" ordered Tamson. The wild, murderous crew tore like Dervishes -through the hall. Poor Otto von Onions was so startled that he dropped -his dish of choice grilled steak. Then, realising his danger, he lifted -a carving-knife and edged towards the stairs. Kismet was with him. -Tamson's army halted to pick up and sample the steaks. This was a golden -chance for Otto. He turned and dashed up the stairs. - -"Come on, lads," ordered Spud. His men followed with the half-chewed -steaks sticking out of their mouths. Up the stairs they panted and -yelled, alarming all the guests into a state of hysterics. Old ladies -shrieked in terror, while the younger women swooned away on the various -landings. At last Otto von Onions was brought to bay. Spud's army found -him, knife in hand, at his bedroom door. - -"Stops, or I vill kill yous all. I am a naturalusized ceetezan." - -"A what?" queried Micky. - -"A Breeteesh subjects. I haf Scotteesh wifes and cheeldrens." - -"Oh, you've more than wan wife, eh?" asked Spud. - -"No! No! One wifes." - -"You're a spy," roared Micky, advancing under the cover of a broom. - -"I keel you! I keel you!" shrieked the foreigner. - -"Awa' an' kill yer granny," roared the intrepid Militiaman, striking him -with the broom and wresting the knife right out of his hand. - -"No keel me--no keel me--kind shentlemans. I give you -moneys--wheesky--ceegars." - -"Noo, you're talkin'," said Spud. "Oot wi' it." From his trunk the -terrified Teuton disgorged his gold, his fine Havannas, and a bottle of -Special Scotch. This loot was quickly collared and lodged in various -pockets. - -"An' noo tell me whaur these ither Germans stay?" asked Tamson. - -"Away! They mobilised. Gone Shermanys." - -"When?" - -"To-nights. Ten train. They Shermans. I, Breeteesh subjects," he -declared again. - -"All right, old cock, we'll let you off," concluded the valiant -lance-corporal, looking at the clock, which had just turned 9.30 _P.M._ -Turning to his men, he said, "Look here, boys, we've time tae capture -them deevils. Come on--aff tae the station." And down the stairs they -walloped like a lot of schoolboys. The terrified visitors gave a sigh of -relief as they went out through the great hall door, while poor Otto von -Onions sat down and cried. - -"This way, lads," yelled Spud, as they thundered into the Mudtown -Station. There they saw a mongrel gang of heavily-built Germans waiting -for the train. A Consular official with a ponderous umbrella was in -charge. He had them marshalled in a rough sort of group. Some had still -their tail-coats on, others had napkins round their necks, while a few -showed their bare heels over the tops of their shoes. A villainous -crowd; more ready to use the stiletto than their fists. All were eagerly -discussing the great Day, and how long it would take them to invade our -country, when they were startled by the terrific yell of Spud Tamson's -men. - -Charge! was the order of the day. In a second a peaceful station was -turned into a bear garden. Kicks, shrieks, and yells rent the air. Human -beings rocked to and fro, and tumbled over the luggage littered over the -platform. - -"I protest, in the name of the Kaiser," said the Consular gent with the -umbrella. - -"Tak' that, in the name o' the King," said Spud, delivering a terrific -punch on the German's bulbous nose. Blood burst all over his ponderous -paunch, but he was game, and pluckily tackled Spud with his umbrella. -One whack over his enemy's head smashed the whole framework. - -"Made in Germany," yelled Spud, giving him one full on the waist-line. -He staggered and fell into a writhing mass of Germans and Militiamen. -Micky Cameron was seen furiously belting a stout little German, with one -hand; with the other he was rapidly relieving him of his watch, money, -and trinkets, including a few silver napkin rings which the waiter had -"borrowed" as a present for the Kaiser. Beefy Duncan found a fiendish -delight in flattening the nose of Adolph Squarehead, the late boots of -The Grand; while they nobly strived to tap blood and gather as much loot -as possible in the struggle. It was a titanic conflict. Blood, skin, and -hair were flying like snowflakes. Faces resembled lumps of beefsteak -instead of respectable features. And although the Militia were -outnumbered, they struggled bravely on. At last there was a cry of -"Surrender." The Germans shrieked for mercy, while the stationmaster -vainly implored for peace. An armistice was granted, during which the -enemy gathered up their false teeth, collars, and other displaced -apparel. - -"Fall in now," ordered Lance-Corporal Tamson, as he wiped his bleeding -nose. - -"Quick march," and out of the station marched the escort with their -captures. Hundreds had gathered and followed the convoy along. Spud -headed straight for the Officers' Mess. There was no halt on arriving at -the door. He marched them into the anteroom, where Colonel Corkleg and -his officers were enjoying an evening smoke. All were startled at the -sight of the twenty bleeding and battered Germans as well as the -rowdy-looking escort. Before they had recovered, the whole lot was in -the room, and Spud Tamson standing to attention at their head. - -"What the devil do you mean, corporal?" roared the colonel. - -"Twenty prisoners, sir. They're a' spies. We captured them at the -station." - -"In the name of the Kaiser, I protest----" - -"Haud yer tongue--I'm speakin'," said the corporal to the Consular -gentleman. But the colonel had realised that this assault on these -Germans was a breach of the Convention. It was awkward, and although he -had no love for the enemy he knew that International law permitted their -being mobilised and shipped to their country. The colonel felt an inward -pride as he surveyed the bleeding captures, but he had to assume the -mask of duty. Turning to the adjutant he said, "Place this corporal and -all of our men in the guardroom; I will see them to-morrow." Turning to -the Germans, the colonel remarked in his best official tone, "I'm sorry, -gentlemen, that you should have been assaulted. It is all through the -ignorance of my men, as you see----" - -"In the name of the Kaiser, I pro----" - -"Very well," interjected the colonel, "you may lodge that protest when -we arrive in Berlin. Now, you may go," he said, pointing to the door. - -Gladly they tripped to the station. Another train conveyed these -battered Teutons to the Port of Hull, where they found a steamer for -Lagerland. - -Of course there was a Court of Inquiry, the result of which was a -Regimental Court-Martial for Spud and his pals. Diplomatic reasons -demanded punishment, and Colonel Corkleg had to comply. - -That day was a memorable one in the annals of this corps, for inside the -Reading Room the bandaged Militiamen stood before their judges. After a -pile of evidence had been read and the usual formalities finished, -Colonel Corkleg asked, "Do you all plead guilty?" - -"Yes, sir," was the firm response. - -"Well, Lance-Corporal Tamson, I sentence you to be reduced, and fourteen -days' field imprisonment with hard labour. The remainder are sentenced -to seven days' field imprisonment." - -"March them out, sergeant-major," ordered the adjutant. Without a -tremble, they turned about and tramped from the room. - -"Useful man, that Tamson," the colonel remarked, with a twinkle in his -eye. - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant, who, by the way, was a perfect -military machine, knowing everything from the strength of a regiment to -the number of grain seeds per diem allowed to a transport horse. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -OFFICERS AND BILLETS. - - -_If_ the officers of His Majesty's Service have a wonderful innings in -the piping times of peace, they have a very rough outing in the time of -war. It is not all beer and skittles, for, in addition to facing death, -they have to pay for the privilege of doing the same. The sword and -revolver with which they kill the Huns is purchased out of their -pockets. The few shillings per diem which they receive will not even pay -for their food and drinks. This system has many disadvantages for the -poor but keen soldier. It has practically denied thousands the right to -make the Army a profession, and has turned many educated N.C.O.'s out -into the world to become somewhat fierce antagonists of a system largely -founded on privilege and caste. But things are improving. And, in -passing, it is only fair to observe that the men produced by the old -system were really of the ruling caste--leaders and fighters, and -gentlemen with very few exceptions. It is true they purchased text-books -and never read them, yet it is equally true that, in war, they have -seldom failed, and have even managed to outdo such skilful tacticians -and strategists as the Germans. The Militia, of course, was never so -efficient as the Regular Army. That could not be expected. The officers -were mainly men of means who had served in the Regular Army; others were -county gentlemen with a passion for rank and arms; some the well-to-do -sons of ambitious business men; while the more junior officers were -cadets of poor but good families, who used the Militia as a back door to -the Army. And in this time of war the vacancies were largely filled by -the wonderful children of the O.T.C. An occasional ranker with a -corpulent quartermaster gave such a gathering a democratic leavening, -which did no harm. This, then, was the sort of stuff which composed the -regiment under review. All had fighting instincts, and every man -believed that it was "the thing to do." They felt it a pleasure to -serve, and deemed it an honour to die. There was no vulgar bragging -about what they would do with the Germans. Indeed, they had chivalry -enough to accord the Germans admiration for their work. War was no -picnic to them. If they had slacked it in the past, they bucked into -their job with a thoroughness which did them credit. In brief, they -represented a few of the willing thousands who have always been eager to -die for the Britain which, unfortunately, left them and their men in the -lurch when saddled with poverty and old age. A materialist has termed -such men the "Fools of Imperialism." Thank God, materialists are in the -minority. Such "fools" have secured to us a mighty heritage. Men of this -breed have stuck to the flag in the freezing Antarctic and in the -sun-baked East. We know little of them, and in the times of peace care -less. Yet when the drums of war are rolling hard, we turn and yell for -their arms and aid. How brutally selfish; how horribly weird! Let us -hope the war will teach us to honour and care for such men, when these -awful days are past. - -Now let us review these gentlemen and their billet. First, there was old -Colonel Corkleg. He was a tough old dog, with a red nose and cork stump, -the relic of a grim struggle with Dervishes. He could neck the best part -of a bottle of Scotch at a sitting, yet, next morning, he would be found -in his cold tub before parade. Spick and span as a dandy, erect as a -Guardsman, as strict as Wellington, yet every inch a gentleman. The men -loved him because he gave them a square deal. And he knew his job. True, -he could curse like Marlborough's men in Flanders, but you cannot drill -Militiamen without a wide vocabulary of oaths. The more original the -better. To these heroic scallywags, it was the hall-mark of soldierly -efficiency. But Colonel Corkleg could do more than curse. He could drill -and manoeuvre his men "on the top of a barrel," as the old -sergeant-major used to say. When he shouted "'Shun" they shivered; when -he roared out "double" they ran like hares. And he was not afraid. Men -loved to tell of how he had killed a dozen niggers in a skirmish, and -captured a cannibal king with only a smile and a walking-stick. You will -therefore realise that Colonel Corkleg was a good fellow; you will also -understand how every man felt confidence in his leadership. Confidence -in a colonel, let me tell you, is worth everything in a fight. - -The second in command was "The Dandy Major," a rollicking squire who -owned broad acres and big cellars. A bit of a Beau Brummell, too. He was -measured for his socks, pyjamas, and ties. There was a touch about his -waist-line which suggested the "Nut," and a look in his eye which was -deadly. The subalterns said that he had kissed everything human, from a -Geisha girl to an Eskimo. He had done everything from killing a tiger to -sticking a Hun, and had crowned his career with the capture of a famous -beauty of the land. - -Major Tartan was the junior major. He was chief of a clan possessing -numerous castles and miles of heather. He looked a ghillie, and was very -proud of his calves. These never required the Sassenach stuffing of -cotton wool. And in his bedroom he hung a painted scroll of his lineage. -That was his weakness. He could recite his descent from Macdonald -M'Tartan, who ran away with the wife of Dugald M'Phail, once chief of -the thieves on Benmore. He loved the kilt and he lived in it. It greatly -distressed him to think that his regiment had the awful trews. But this -owner of Highland homes and grouse moors hadn't a bean to call his own. -Everything was mortgaged, even his kilt, and that was a sore strait for -a true Highland gentleman. So he lived in a cottage on the shore of a -lonely loch. There he read the 'Spectator,' drank Scotch, and cursed the -Government, as every Tory is expected to do. Yet he was as proud as -Cæsar. He was content to accept the little dole left when his lawyers -paid the interests on his heavily mortgaged bonds. He was glad of this -war. It gave him something to do. And he had the dour, grim, hacking -qualities which always distinguish the Highland soldier. If he was as -surly as a Highland bull, he was also as kind as a little child. His -last shilling had often gone into the beer-pot of a scheming Militiaman. -Militiamen, I can assure you, are like Chinamen--as deep as the seas and -as canny as the snakes. They can squeeze blood out of a stone, and so -this kind old major was frequently their prey. - -The most interesting senior captain was Captain Coronet. A splendid -fellow, but annoyingly clean. He washed himself six times per day. His -shirts were spotless, and his clothes were aided by corsets. Captain -Coronet had the waist-line of a lady, and the smooth creamed complexion -of a girl. His features were regularly massaged, and he always prided -himself on his pinky-coloured nails. Through the ages his family had -fought like devils for God and Duty. Their tombs could be found in -Flanders, Egypt, and burning Hindostan. Naturally he was rich. Tons of -gold lay to hand, and he lavishly sent it round. An awfully good fellow, -as an Oxford grad. would say. Soldiering was his game. He cursed the -passing of the Feudal System and the rise of commerce. Killing was the -family job. Leading was his special prerogative. Naturally he scorned -the man in trade, and only had time for men of his caste. Haughty as a -Prussian to all who would ape his own, yet as generous as a monk to the -poor beggars in the ranks. He loved good deeds, and did them without -offence. When he gave a thousand guineas he did not inform the Press. A -civilian would sum him up as a snob; a soldier would call him a man, and -would follow him to the gates of death. True, Captain Coronet had the -little faults of his kind, but these were mainly affected and -superficial--simply a pose, which hid a real white man. When you scratch -the skin of such a type you will find a courage and grit which simply -staggers. If you know the Army you will understand. He was called the -chocolate soldier for many a day, till once a man was drowning in a -tidal river before the eyes of the whole regiment. No one ventured to -the rescue except Coronet. He plunged in, rescued his man after a -thrilling struggle, and calmly brought him up to the bank. All he ever -said about it was that "it was beastly wet." - -Another interesting gent was Captain Hardup. He was a professional -Militiaman, and therefore a mystery. His pedigree was uncertain; his -schooling vague; while his cheques were frequently marked "overdrawn." -But he had the necessary qualifications to keep up appearances--that is -to say, he had a knickerbocker suit, a club address, and a mess kit, -which, by the way, had the appearance of having passed through the hands -of grenadiers, fusiliers, light infantry, and other branches of the -service. In the times of peace he collared a living, for about four and -a half months of the year, by training with various militia corps. For -this he received a captain's pay, which was supplemented by his winnings -at bridge and an occasional cheque for taking a richer fellow's turn of -duty. The county men tolerated him, regarding him as a necessary evil, -and, at times, a useful friend. What Captain Hardup did when the Militia -"broke down" was wrapped in a cloud. Some said he canvassed for -insurance; others averred that he travelled for beer; while a few -suggested that he ran baby incubators at country fairs. Nevertheless, -Hardup was a man of experience. He knew his job, and could even tell -when a Militiaman had no feet in his socks. To Colonel Corkleg he was -invaluable, for he could twist a company outside in. - -The subalterns, of course, were equally interesting; they always are. -These youthful officers are the life of a regiment. Invariably they are -splendid sportsmen. To the outside world they present a haughty air, -which generally merits for them the title of snobs. But this is an -unfair characterisation. The air of supreme importance which they adopt -is really the result of old army training, which compels an officer to -hide his virtues and his failings under a mask of chilling hauteur. -Scrape that, and you will always find a generous heart and a kindly -soul. It is in the mess that you realise this. There, they are all big -bouncing boys, full of innocent fun and youthful candour. To them a -spade is a spade. If a brother officer is really a prig and abuses his -men, these youths will take it out of his skin. A broken bed and a -broken head is the penalty of unpopularity. Tar and feathers is the -punishment of the cad. Drinks all round is usually the verdict when a -subaltern forgets his manners and commits a smaller sin. The mess is the -school for courage, honour, and truth. In the British officers' anteroom -you will find the foundations of that splendid chivalry which has given -us fame. Isolated cases to the contrary usually mean that the colonel is -an idiot, and the adjutant a fool. But these are rare, and when found -the War Office has a blunt style of treatment. A German officer has -shown us, in the pages of 'Life in a Garrison Town,' how things are in -the Army of the Kaiser. You will not find these things in the Army of -our King. This statement can also be applied to the Militia and -Territorials. - -And this was the type in Colonel Corkleg's corps. Jim Longlegs, the -senior sub, was cox of the Cambridge boat. His nose had been flattened -while learning the noble art of self-defence. He could tear a pack of -cards with his hands, and crack an iron bar over his knee. He was -clean-limbed and alert, good at a spree, and if he did like a -whisky-and-soda, he could drink it as Luther did, in the manner of a -gentleman. - -Cocky Dan was an impish sprite from a public school. He was five feet of -delightful impudence and daring. His nose was always stuck in the Maxim -gun. This tricky machine was his hobby and his job. When he rode -alongside of it on his piebald charger he resembled a beaming boy scout -with the all-round cords. Cocky Dan was a name that suited him. And then -there was Willie Winkie, the sausage merchant's son, who tried so hard -to be a gentleman. He would have been a perfect gentleman if he hadn't -worried too much about 'Etiquette for Officers,' and that other social -handbook, 'Manners made Easy.' Billy Isaacs was hampered by his name. -Not that he was a Jew, but, as he said himself, one of his female -ancestors had got mixed up in a money-lending affair with a Hebrew, who -was financing her fads in silks, port, and rouge. To save the family -pewter and the old manorial brick bungalow, she married the man, and -thus hampered a decent fellow with a hooked proboscis and an ikey name. -Still, he was a devil at finance, and almost sent the colour-sergeant -insane when he balanced a halfpenny out in his pay-sheet. Then there was -Gerald Hay Du Patti Brown, who made the dickens of a row about some of -his people coming over with William the Conqueror. This carried him far -till Second Lieutenant Briefs discovered in the Doomsday Book that his -ancestor was a pioneer-sergeant in the army which landed at Hastings in -1066. Still, he was a good fellow, and always willing to stand a port -the day before the month's pay was due. Brown's boon companion was Giddy -Greens, a husky youth intimate with the musical comedy stars. He had -only a hundred a year, and was always dodging the Jews. His suits were -easily the best, for the reason that he changed his tailor monthly and -always burnt their bills. But there, one might rave for ever about the -subalterns of this famous corps. - -Now, the billets in which they were lodged at Mudtown was hardly in -keeping with their tastes. It was a musty manor, with a touch of age and -a scent of dead cats. Dirt was rampant and barrenness profound. Where -the pictures once hung they found great holes, while through the windows -came sparrows, bats, and rain. The floor was rotten, indeed Colonel -Corkleg lost his artificial stump in a mouldy corner of his room. There -wasn't a bath. All had to wash themselves in biscuit tins, and wipe -their faces on a greasy roller towel. As to the kitchen, only a single -fire remained to cook soup, fish, entrees, and sweets. These had to be -served up on one old kitchen table. - -"This is----" muttered the colonel. - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - -Still, it was war time, so things had to be devised. Tables were made -out of floor boarding and salmon boxes; beds were created out of -blankets, ancient and modern. These were sewn together in the form of -sleeping bags. Candles were used for illumination; while other -necessaries were begged, borrowed, or stolen from patrons and friends. -But all the worry or discomfort did not upset the usual cheerfulness of -the subs. Life to them was one continual round of joy. They danced till -their legs burst through the floors, and sang so loud that the senior -major vigorously protested. Guest-nights were occasionally held, when -fellow-officers in other corps arrived to sample their good things. -Tinned sardines, ration beef, Irish stew, slippery jellies, and musty -macaroni were served on the one plate, liquid refreshments were gladly -drunk out of bowls and collapsible mugs. After these sumptuous repasts -the senior sub, Jim Longlegs, put his juniors through the "Modulator." -This is a performance which the priggish youth hates like prussic acid, -but one much enjoyed by all true sportsmen. In the course of this -ceremony, a sub may be ordered to stand on his head, sing "Annie Laurie" -in that position, and afterwards endeavour to swallow a Scotch. A -somewhat ignoble performance to the uninitiated, but underneath all -these foolish pranks there is a deep reasoning, and that is the teaching -of youth a respect for authority and a prompt obedience to orders. -Anteroom court martials were also held in the billets of Mudtown. At -these tribunals all delinquents were bluntly catechised for their sins. -For instance, Cocky Dan was charged with "irregular conduct, unable to -control his horse, riding through a ham merchant's window and sitting in -a basket of rotten eggs." This conduct was deemed unbecoming to an -officer and a gentleman, so Cocky Dan received a formal sentence of -"drinks all round, and to sleep three nights without his pyjamas." Being -winter, this sentence will be well understood. Du Patti Brown was also -arraigned on a charge of "unauthorised swank--blowing his horn about his -Norman pedigree, having a double-barrelled and plebian name, and -attempting to enter his name in Burke's Peerage." This was deemed a -fraud. His sentence was "a cold tub in full regimentals, and afterwards -drinking two quarts of ice-cold water." Billy Isaacs was charged with -"Jewish tendencies, in that he in the billets of Mudtown did order a -fatigue party from his company to search for the sum of one penny which -he had lost on parade." Sentence of death was passed, but this was -remitted on the understanding that Billy Isaacs would lend every -subaltern a "fiver" till next pay-day. - -There _were_ nights when the wine was rich and merriment strong. On -these occasions the spirit of mischief and devilry became rampant. One -of these famous nights was the celebration of Captain Coronet's -receiving what he described as another "beastly legacy of fifty thousand -from an old aunt, who had cheated her heirs for ninety-five years." The -flowing bowl went round. Colonel Corkleg, with "The Dandy Major" and -Major Tartan, like true sportsmen, helped to consume a few quarts of -champagne vintage. Their red faces and beaming eyes told all that they -had reached that stage which demands, for a senior, immediate retirement -from the scene of action, so as not to prejudice good order and military -discipline. In the privacy of their rooms they supped more wine, damned -the Kaiser and the Radicals, and figured out their actual part in the -triumphal march through the Unter der Linden. Meantime, the gay young -bloods danced and hooched to their hearts' delight. Choruses, of course, -were popular, and many of those songs so dear to all of our public -schools echoed out into the still Mudtown night. And then the Tempter -came into Jim Longlegs' brain. - -"Let's rag the captains," he whispered round. - -"Right ho," all cried. Now this is a violation of the unwritten law. A -captain in the service is a little tin god. He must not be ragged by his -juniors. But the spirit of mischief abounded. Armed with mops, brooms, -hose pipes, and minus their caps and jackets, they rushed the captains' -rooms. Danger had been scented. As they entered the sacred sanctum they -were received with well-directed douches from buckets of water. This -soaked them to the skin, and for a moment checked the general advance. - -"Charge!" ordered the senior sub. An order is an order, so they promptly -obeyed. There was a merry scrum. Jim Longlegs seized the nearest man and -promptly commenced to give this somewhat portly person a half-nelson and -a duck in a basin. Heavens! when he looked at his antagonist's face he -found it was that of Major Tartan, who had been visiting the captains' -rooms. He was nonplussed for a moment, for a major is like the prophet -Allah, one of the Holy of Holies. To even touch a hair of his head is -more irreligious than the tearing out of the precious eyes of a -Brahmin's god. But the major was a sport. The temporary astonishment of -the senior sub was used by him to the best advantage. With a great -effort he encircled Longlegs' waist, and heaved him with a terrible -crash to the floor. The lamp was smashed and the revellers found -themselves in darkness. This lessened the fear of the consequences. Beds -were lifted and crashed around. Basins were emptied out over the -blankets. Brooms smashed through the windows, while many of the captains -and subs had their shirts torn from their backs. And then the whistle -blew "Retire." The subs retired singing "Rule, Britannia," and yelling - - "Glory, Glory, Halleujah, - Glory, Glory, Halleujah, - Glory, Glory, Halleujah, - We've wrecked the Captains' Home." - -It was in the after-discussion of the night's escapade that Cocky Dan -dared Jim Longlegs to sneak into the C.O.'s room and collar the -colonel's cork leg, which always lay by the side of his bed. - -"Done," said the senior sub before he realised his venture. But it had -to go on. His pluck was at stake. There was a tense silence as he crept -out of the room in his stocking soles. Quietly he opened the colonel's -door and slipped inside. The old gentleman lay on his bed asleep. Jim -crept forward and stealthily picked up the colonel's cork limb. He -smiled grimly as he turned towards the door. Cocky Dan would have to -yield him that fiver after all. But just as he touched the handle there -was a rustle on the bed and then a terrible roar-- - -"Damn you, Mr Longlegs--how dare you?...?...?" cursed the colonel, who -slept lightly, due to his years of living amongst the Dervishes and -Afridis. - -"I'm--I'm--I'm sor----" - -"Put that leg down--get out, you scamp. Report to me in the morning." - -The senior sub placed the leg down again, in the most shamefaced manner. -He was sorry he had been caught. He had meant no disrespect, for the -colonel was a lovable old gentleman at heart. But he had violated a -sacred rule, and he guessed what the morning would bring forth. When he -arrived back in the subs' rooms his fellow-officers went pale with -terror and quickly scampered to bed. - -"I think we ought to report this ragging business to the colonel," said -a supercilious senior to old Major Tartan next morning. - -"What?" - -"Report it to the colonel!" - -"Don't be an ass," said old Tartan, stumping out of the room. He had -been a true subaltern in his day. - -The colonel, however, ordered the adjutant to bring Mr Longlegs in. - -"Well," commenced the old gentleman in his best official manner. - -"I--I--I'm very sorry, sir." - -"Should think you would be! Damned impertinence, sir. How dare you? How -dare you? Never heard of such a thing in my life. Good mind to cashier -you." - -"Really, I'm very sorry----" - -"Hold your tongue, sir." - -Then he harangued him in the best style of Judge Hawkins for a quarter -of an hour, after which the senior sub felt like a little grease spot -instead of a man. - -"Now you can go, sir; don't let it happen again--understand!" - -"Yes, sir," said Longlegs, saluting and marching out. - -As the door shut, the colonel, with a subdued twinkle in his eye, -remarked--"Useful man that, eh?" - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -THE GENERAL STAFF. - - -_The_ General Staff is improving. Red Tape is being killed; common-sense -is beginning to triumph. It took exactly two hundred and fifty years for -our General Staff to realise that soldiers cannot be expected to -skirmish in busbies, or entrench a position in crimson tunics and -skin-tight trews. This admission, you will agree, is evidence of -awakening, so the British public need not be alarmed. Years ago, -generals received their rank through the influence of their wives, or -somebody else's wife. Now, a general is expected to have the brains of -Wellington and the sauce of the Kaiser. He is promoted for his -efficiency, not for his glass eye or double-barrelled name. Indeed, it -is only a brave man who would be a general, for he is supposed to know -everything, from the weight of a soldier's socks to the number of men -that can be killed by a shrapnel shell. And he is the generator of all -schemes for the training of His Majesty's men. When the G.O.C. speaks, -all are expected to show that they have a wholesome fear and awe of this -almighty personage. The correct reply to a general, on all occasions, is -"Yes, sir." Woe unto the man who would dispute the theories of the -G.O.C., for "Death or such less punishment" lies in the hollow of his -hand. A general who is keen of C.B.'s, knighthoods, and a baton, is -always careful in the selection of his Staff. Up till fifteen years ago -the young bloods of Mayfair were chosen because of their lineage, cash, -and ability to ride a hunter at a five-barred gate. Now, a general seeks -for an aide who can work twenty-three hours out of twenty-four, and -possessed of all the knowledge that the Staff College can bestow. It is -pleasant to note that many clever aspirants can be found, and that is -the reason for the success of our arms to-day. If Wellington had had men -of this type, he, like Hannibal and Napoleon, might also have conquered -the Alps. But Wellington had to deal with aides who were simply British -gentlemen with a passion for fox-hunting and a primitive thirst for -blood. The modern Staff officer can secure the maximum of efficiency -with the minimum of friction. He can inspire the training of a thousand -muddling amateurs, and in six months can procure veterans of the type -that conquered at Waterloo. Nothing is too much for him. He can make -transports out of mud barges; bridges from milk carts; impregnable -redoubts from biscuit-boxes, rubble, mud, and sand. In the midst of a -most crushing reverse, he will collar a thousand retreating men, stick -them in hen-houses, mills, and churchyards, and thus delay the advance -of several army corps. He is tireless, persistent, sometimes dogmatic, -but ever tactful and cheerful. Haking has instilled into him that -soldiers are mainly human, and, in certain instances, fools, hence his -ever cheerful charm, his pertinacity and human understanding. Of course -there are a few of the old Peninsular type still left on the Staff. When -you find them, Heaven help you! Their skulls are as shallow as the -aborigines, and their tongues as cutting as a circular saw. They swear -by The King's Regulations, and meet every problem by a precise reference -to para so-and-so, section something, of the supplement to His Majesty's -manuals of military muddles and laws. They terrify the simpleton by the -fierceness of their dogmas, and ruthlessly crush the intellectual by -thundering adjectives and cries of--insubordination and arrest. -Thoroughly honest, thoroughly patriotic, but equally incompetent. They -are tolerated for the simple reason that a shell or the age limit will -eventually pass them out. - -Now, in the Division to which the Glesca Mileeshy belonged there was a -G.O.C. of the modern school. He was as big as a Cossack, and as cute as -an Oxford Don. Common-sense was his theme; regulations he abhorred. He -cursed everything which savoured of stupid obedience and ignorant -obstinacy. Yet he had the faculty of humour, and in the midst of a -fierce castigation would soothe ruffled pride and vain dignity by a -funny yet kindly touch. This G.O.C. was nicknamed "Sunny Jim." Somehow -his parents had missed the way to the Peerage and 'Who's Who?' Still, -his worthy folks had produced an abnormal and interesting type. In a -kindly family atmosphere "Sunny Jim" imbibed the true belief that love -is the only philosophy to secure happiness and success. In a good public -school this genius developed his amazing brain, and at the same time -hardened his strong arms. Tin soldiers was his early game. Boy soldiers -followed next. He armed his little army with mops, brooms, and carving -knives, and, playing on an old frying-pan, marched them out to war. This -was the beginning of great things. And from these boyish battles "Sunny -Jim" moved into Sandhurst. And in Sandhurst "Sunny Jim" learned the more -noble idealism of arms and the bedrock of those things which can be -summed up as the chivalry of war. When he joined his regiment he created -a stir. He was unorthodox. For example, he upset the tradition of three -hundred years by ordering a sentry to stand under a verandah out of the -wet; while he shocked his brother officers by eating an apple on the -line of march. "It isn't conventional," his captain remarked. "Oh, hang -convention!" was his tart reply. And so he progressed, upsetting all of -the portly seniors, who declared that the Army was going to the dogs. -While these old gentlemen went off to shoot grouse, "Sunny Jim" went -forth to every sort of man-hunting expedition. His sword within ten -years had been inside the paunch of many Dervishes, Afridis, hillmen, -and negroes. His breast of ribbons told all the tale of days of hardship -and of daring. In every scrap he was always "Sunny Jim." That was why he -got the charge of the famous "Mixed Division." It was very mixed--twenty -thousand gentlemen and scallywags, with little knowledge of war, but a -terrible thirst for blood. Jim had to train them. - -"Get them fit," he ordered. - -"How, sir?" said the A.A.G. - -"Make them charge mountains with fixed bayonets for a month." - -"But there's no mountains nearer than fifteen miles, sir." - -"March them out to them--good for them!" - -"They'll probably kick, sir." - -"Then we'll have them shot." And so the Mixed Division tramped, -manoeuvred, and charged. It lowered each man's weight, and made him -wring his shirt after the day's darg was done. The older soldiers cursed -and growled; the younger men whined and often fell out. - -"Too stiff, eh?" inquired "Sunny Jim" one day of a perspiring Tommy. - -"A wee bit, sir," said the man with a wan smile. - -"It's example these men want. I'll show them. Here, you," he shouted to -a young subaltern in charge of an infant company. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Hand over your company to me." - -"Very good, sir." - -The company was awed. They had only heard of "Sunny Jim." Now, there he -stood in his gold-braided cap and ribboned chest--a perfect type of -soldier. - -"'Shun," he roared. They shivered, for the voice told them that Jim was -very much alive. - -"Advance." They trekked behind him over the manoeuvring area. The whole -regiment stopped to look on. - -"Extend," was his next command. - -They went out in a sleepy way. - -"Come back! Come back!" he roared. They doubled back half startled. - -"Now, look here, you young rascals, I'm fifty, and about fifteen stone. -I've been through five wars and fifteen battles. I've been wounded twice -and half starved in all my Army life, but if I couldn't double better -than that I would desert and go home." Then in his thundering voice he -bellowed, "Extend," once more. Out they ran like whippets. - -"That's the way, my lads, and that's the way you'll run when the bullets -are cracking round your ears. Now, advance." - -Off they went again. - -"Down--at the enemy in front--at five hundred--fire." - -They flopped down in an awkward manner. - -"Well! Well!" muttered the general. "Get up! Get up!" All rose in a -shamefaced way. - -"Now, watch me," and off he went at the double; next he flopped on to -the muddy ground. It was mighty quick, but then "Sunny Jim" had done -this many times to save his skin. All the while the men marvelled at -this wonderful general doing such things when he might have ridden his -horse and cursed them in the orthodox way. But they gladly followed his -lead; ran, lay down, and opened fire. - -"Rapid fire," he yelled above the din. The reply was a feeble thing to a -trained ear. - -"Oh dear! Oh dear! What the ...? ...." he roared, using the most choice -and original adjectives. "It's fifteen rounds a minute I want, and -fifteen rounds I'm going to have. Give me your rifle," he yelled to a -shivering youth. Lying down, he quickly opened fire, while an -aide-de-camp timed his shooting with a watch. - -"How many?" he inquired when closing his bolt after firing the last -round. - -"Just fifteen, sir, to the minute." - -"There! And these young scamps take about half an hour. Now, my lads, -ready once more." - -"Rapid fire!" The response was good, almost perfect. - -The old general smiled grimly as he muttered-- - -"They're getting on." - -In this way he conducted the fight to the point of assault. This, of -course, was the critical stage of the whole manoeuvres. But before -proceeding he gave another address. - -"Look here, my boys. This is where you've got to frighten the devil out -of the enemy, and charge like Hell. When you charge, open your mouth and -yell like a mad Dervish. Keep yelling till you get at them, and then -plug your bayonet home with a mighty thrust. As you pull it out give it -a pleasant twist. Every twist helps to end the war. Are you ready?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Well, charge!" and off went "Sunny Jim" at their head yelling like a -mad fakir. They gleefully followed and charged as they never had before. -At the conclusion he formed them up, remarking, "Well, how did you like -that?" - -"Fine, sir," was the quick response. - -"All right, lads; that's the way I want it done--good day to you." - -"Good day, sir," answered the company, as proud as Punch. - -There was no more growling in the Mixed Division, for the general had -shown them that he could do their job. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -TRAINING FOR WAR. - - -_The_ soldier of to-day is a very different person to the one of fifty -years ago. In the past, all that was asked of a Tommy was clean buttons, -a padded chest, and handling of arms. To-day, the soldier is equal to -the officer of Wellington's time. His brain is a well-packed -encyclopedia on everything from minor tactics to sanitary duties in war. -In the past, he was a machine--a splendid machine; now he is an -individualist, one trained to use his science in such a way that he -feels that upon his conduct the fate of a battle depends. Many stripes -have been lost, and many hearts broken, in the achievement of this -necessary standard; but, thank Heaven, common-sense has come to stay. It -is now practically impossible for an officer to hide his inefficiency -under a mask of haughty reserve. Modern tactics demand that he shall -teach his men the alphabet of military affairs, as well as those -side-issues which count so much in the making of a soldier. Mental -superiority and physical efficiency are the only qualities which can -inspire loyalty, discipline, and confidence. Of course, the strain is -hard, especially upon an officer. Too hard, perhaps, when one thinks of -the niggardly pay and the chance of losing one's life in the tender and -more useful years. Nevertheless, it is mighty interesting and equally -amusing. Imagine a corps like the Glesca Mileeshy suddenly mobilised and -ordered to train and become fit within three months. Fortunately Colonel -Corkleg was a resourceful and a clever man. He commenced at the -bottom--that is, on the square. It is there that obedience and -discipline are developed and perfected. When a regiment can march and -drill like the Guards' Brigade, there is no fear for its conduct in the -sternest battle. This was the colonel's reasoning, and all agreed that -he was correct. Each company then went out to march and drill. Let us -study a sample. This was Captain Coronet's company. His colour-sergeant, -known as Fiery Dick, was a regular terror. This valiant was supported by -Sergeants Maloney, O'Dooley, M'Sappy, and Greegor. Very tough gents, I -assure you. If they lacked a knowledge of the three R's and perfection -in the King's English, they could bash their sections about in the most -vigorous style. The preliminary address of Fiery Dick was interesting. - -"Look 'ere, you funny bundles of humanity, you've got to drill like -soldiers, not like fishermen. And when I says ''Shun,' I means ''Shun.' -None of your hankey-pankey tricks, such as wiping your wet noses on your -sleeve, or keeking round the corner for a smell of the canteen. Stand -erect, head still, eyes to your front, and puff out your chest. Keep -your thumbs in line with the seam of your trousers, not inside of the -next man's pocket. Remember, pickpocketing's not allowed in His -Majesty's Service. If you want a bob, I'll lend you one--and charge you -interest. Now--'Shun!" This evidently was not perfect. "Here, O'Riley, -don't squint at me like that. That's dumb insolence. Won't have it. None -of your moonlighter tricks here." - -"To the divil wid ye," muttered O'Riley, who was a bit of a hard case. - -"Take his name, Sergeant Maloney. I'll teach him not to talk back in the -ranks. Squad--'Shun!" There was now a stillness that pleased the -professional eye. - -"Not bad for Militiamen. Now we'll try the slope. Look slippy! Chuck it -about. It won't bite you. And don't wobble your head like a looney in -the asylum. Squad--Slope. Macsausage, wait for the last word--you're too -slippy--expect you've been a bookie in civil life, always slipping the -cops. Stand still, Private Rednose. Squad--Slope--arms!" There was a -weird attempt at precision. Weird is the word, for Fiery Dick -immediately bellowed, "As you were." They tumbled back to the order -again. "You for soldiers--you're like a lot of monkeys gettin' up a -pole. But I'll teach you--Double march." Off they galloped round the -square, to the grim delight of Dick, who heaved his chest with martial -pride, and followed their antics with his eyes. "Double," he roared, as -they slacked a little. "Who told you to crawl like worms? Hi, M'Ginty, -you're rolling like a bloomin' old fishwife. O'Riley, I'll get a -stretcher for you, you lazy spud-eating Paddy." - -"Ach, to H---- wid you," shouted back O'Riley. - -"Halt!" roared Dick, aflame with military wrath. "What do you mean, -talking back to a Non-Commissioned Officer?" - -"Yis couldn't drill my ould cat," leered O'Riley in a fearless way. - -"What--you---- How dare----" - -"Aisy, sargint, or, be jabers, you'll burst." - -"Sergeant Maloney, march him to the clink. Skilly and cells will teach -him." - -"Thank yis, sargint--I'll get a sleep in the clink," chirped O'Riley as -he was marched away. - -"Double march," roared Dick to the remainder again. When he had almost -pumped the last breath out of their bodies he gave the halt, -then--"Stand at ease." - -"Wipe your sweat off, and then we'll try the slope again." Gladly they -mopped their brows. When finished, the old sergeant ordered, -"Slope--arms." Every rifle went bang on to the shoulder with a precision -that was truly amazing. - -"That's the way. You can do it when you like. Now, Present--arms." This -had its faults. - -"Keep your stomachs in--it's corsets you want. And grip your guns. They -ain't dynamite. Just think it's a beer pot. No laughing, Muldoon, or -I'll clap you in with O'Riley." - -"I couldn't help----" - -"Silence! Who ever heard of talking in the ranks? Company--Slope--arms. -By the right--Quick march." - -"By the right! By the right! Don't wobble like ducks in a mud-pond. Hold -your heads up--swing your arms--stick out your measly chests, and march. -Steady now! About--turn. One--two--three--four--Step out--you're not at -O'Riley's funeral yet. Right--form. Come round like one man. Keep back, -Tamson, it's not dinner-time yet." - -"I weesh it wis," whispered Tamson. - -"Squad--Halt! Stand at--ease," concluded Fiery Dick. "Now you section -commanders march off your sections. Slip it across them. If they look -sideways, double them till their wind-bags burst." - -The sergeants gladly complied, for they were itching to emulate the -style of their worthy "Flag," as the colour-sergeant is known in the -Service. When sufficiently apart, the din commenced. - -"Left--right--left--haud up yer heids--oot wi' yer chists--eyes aff the -grun, there's nae money there," piped Sergeant Greegor, the sprightly -commander of No. 1 section. His colleagues followed suit, much to the -amusement of Captain Coronet and his Subs (Lieutenants Greens and -Briefs), who quietly observed all from a corner of the drill-ground. -This section drill went on for a week. At the conclusion, the company -commander and his subalterns fell to and instructed them in company -drill. The methods of these gentlemen were of the polite order. Their -adjectives had not the strong flavour of Fiery Dick's. Indeed, their -treatment was much too ladylike in the opinion of the sergeants. -However, these trusty henchmen kept the scallywags in order. If they -stumbled, mumbled, or jumbled when on parade, a quiet dig with a boot -mended matters. - -Having polished the eight companies into shape and order, Colonel -Corkleg and his adjutant decided on battalion drill. Battallion drill -under such a colonel was a treat. He was a martinet, and could drill a -regiment like a Guardsman. - -"Battalion reported present, sir," announced the adjutant on the first -parade. - -"Thank you," said the colonel, clearing his throat, and viewing a -thousand expectant souls. - -"Battalion--what's all the moving now? When I say 'Battalion,' every man -should stand still and wait for the next word of command. Who's that -moving about on the right of Number Eight? Sergeant-Major." - -"Yes, sir." - -"Take the name of the fat, red-headed man--third from the right of -Number Eight. Give him marked drill. That will teach him." - -"Battalion--'Shun. Slope--arms. By the right, quick--march." Any man who -quivered an eyelid or turned his eyes the eighth of an inch was promptly -collared and marked for drill. Up and down they went, neither looking to -the left nor to the right, as if in terror of their lives. The bailies -of a hundred towns, with all the men in blue, had tried to quell and -train this same material, but it had been left to Colonel Corkleg to -instil into them that orders were orders. Discipline--discipline, and -obedience, the holy watchword of His Majesty's men. From a sullen, -slovenly, careless gang of devil-may-care cut-throats and vagabonds, he -whacked them into a regiment of steady, proud, and sterling men. And he -did not hesitate to curse them. He knew his men. There was not a sense -of cruelty or spite in Colonel Corkleg's soul. He was a gentleman, but -he knew that these men were the victims of environment. In their dreary -crime-and drink-sodden homes they had learned to emulate the -law-breaker, to idolise the criminal, and applaud the football god. -Their philosophy was material--necessarily so: for poverty made them -steal; environment sent them out to seek the heat of the ale-house and -the shelter of the jail. Brutes, some people would call them. But they -had never seen these men dying on the sands of Egypt or on the plains of -Hindostan. Colonel Corkleg had. While he cursed them in his stern way, -that was simply because these men knew no other tongue. In his heart he -loved them as his own children. They had stuck to him in many a bloody -combat. He knew this same type would stick to him again. Yes, and the -men loved him, too. They were shrewd. A cruel world had given them a -keen perception. One look at a man and they knew him to be friend or -foe. Many a time old Corkleg had met them on the open road and stopped -his high-stepping mare to give them a lift and the price of their doss. -Often had Colonel Corkleg amazed his guests at his country-seat by -hauling a dirty old blackguard off the highway and introducing him as -"one of his boys." - -Having steadied them up at drill, the regiment was then initiated into -the wonders of modern war. First came musketry. Musketry was never good -in the British Army till the War Office made a soldier shoot for his -pay. This truly brilliant thought made Thomas Atkins spot the bull as he -never did before. Those who hitherto spent their lives in tasting ale -realised that during musketry they had to study abstinence and do with a -pint a day--a great sacrifice on the part of such men. Next they -discovered the difference between the line of sight and the trajectory. -This kept them low--dead on at six o'clock. The ribbons on their caps, -or the fluttering flags on the range, gave all the tip of the wind; -while the wonders of the wind-gauge aided in getting the bullets into -the best billets every time. All of these theories were amply explained -by the N.C.O.'s, who had learned the latest crazes from "The madmen of -Hythe." Those queer professors of the art of shooting went to bed with -their rifles. They wallowed in cartridges, and prayed for new ideas to -get the British Army bulls. And to the horror of all thirsty privates -they invented green-and khaki-coloured targets at which the soldier had -to pop to qualify for his pay. Standing, kneeling, lying, and sitting, -the Tommy was expected to hit the khaki specks on the landscape. Rapid -fire was another theme, while grouping, and cones of fire, they argued, -were the theories to win a modern war. Very excellent, but, at first, -annoying to those who had been used to firing volleys and keeping their -cartridges still till they saw "the whites of the enemy's eyes." Yet, in -time, all realised that the madmen of Hythe were right, and so the -British Army has become the finest shooting force in the world. - -Of course, the best-regulated systems are liable to fraud. Spud Tamson -proved that. While marking at the butts, under the officer of the day, -he found that a pencil pushed sharply through the target resembled the -puncture of a bullet. Now this was a great discovery. It meant salvation -to many of his pals who were third-class shots. It also indicated to -Tamson the road to a lucrative income by charging so much per head for -every bull that he secured by the aid of his pencil. Naturally there -were risks, but Tamson was willing to take them. To ensure success, he -squared his orderly sergeant to get him the job of permanent marker at -the butts. Having accomplished that, Spud intimated to many hopeless -aspirants for first-class shot that he could pull them through, and thus -secure them the threepence a day which is the reward for musketry -efficiency. He put dozens through his hands; indeed, he was so zealous -that not a third-class shot was found in many of the companies. - -"This is really marvellous shooting, sir," said the A.A.G. to the G.O.C. -one day during this regiment's course. "Not a third-class shot, so far." - -"Don't believe it. There's something wrong there," quickly observed the -general, who knew the rifle upside down. "I'll test this regiment -to-day," he concluded, putting on his cap and making for the range. -There he found a company doing great things at the game. Bull after bull -was going up to the delight of all, especially Colonel Corkleg, who was -proud of his men's achievement. - -"Here, my lad," said the G.O.C. to a blind-looking man firing at a -target, "give me your rifle." Lying down, the general fired two shots. - -"What's that?" he inquired casually. - -"Two bulls, sir," answered the colonel. - -"Bulls, eh?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Very well--blow the cease fire." - -This was sounded, and the general ran up to the butts. There he found -the zealous Tamson "pasting up." - -"Show me the last two shots on number one target," ordered the general. - -"Here they are, sir," replied the cool and resourceful rascal. - -"Umph! Not much of a bullet went in there." - -"Oh yes, sir, that's right enough. I saw them spit on." - -"Well, lend me your pencil for a minute, my lad." - -Out came Tamson's pencil, which he handed to the general. - -"Now, look here, young man--I fired the last two shots at number one -target, but I fired them in the air. They went miles from -here--somewhere in the sky." - -"It's gey funny, sir." - -"Not so very funny, either," replied the G.O.C., "especially when I look -at your pencil. It's the exact circumference of a bullet, and a little -paste on each side shows that you have been sticking it through the -target." - -"No' me, sir! No' me, sir!" - -"Oh no--it was your pencil. Put him in the guardroom, colonel, and all -of your companies must fire over again with neutral officers in the -butts. Good-day." And off stamped the G.O.C. with a grim smile in his -eyes. He knew Tommy Atkins, and had caught many a regiment before. In -the next shooting many "marksmen" suddenly fell to the status of -third-class shots. Thus was a Bisley standard foiled. Tamson got seven -days' cells without the proverbial option. But he didn't mind. He was -thirty shillings to the good. Colonel Corkleg's opinion cannot be -printed. - -Having performed the necessary musketry course, all hands were initiated -into skirmishing and the need of taking cover. Skirmishing, as you are -aware, was invented to dodge the unpleasant effects of "Black Marias," -"Coal Boxes," and whizzing volleys of death in tabloid form. This new -formation gives all the sporting chance of getting through a war and -winning a medal and a wife. As for taking cover, that undignified game -has robbed war of much of its chivalry, compelling the most austere -martinet to hide behind a blade of grass. This sort of thing would not -have pleased the army of Wellington. Imagine the Iron Duke's Guards, -clad in the glories of red and gold, hiding in a mud-hole, or crawling -along a ditch, like a lot of boy scouts. These gentlemen would have -declared that the Army was going to the dogs. Speaking of dogs, the -soldier of to-day is very much of a dog. He is expected to scent, -crouch, crawl, and spring on his prey. The closer he gets to mother -earth the better his chance of getting a bite. Of course, such a -proceeding is very annoying to one with the girth of Falstaff or Bailie -Nicol Jarvie. And it was a very difficult matter to get these gallants -to understand the tricks of the weasel. The sudden flop on to mother -earth at first dislocated the internal bag of tricks. Crawling, too, was -bad for their tender knees. Nor did they realise that the effect of -posing with their nether regions like humps of khaki meant an unpleasant -wound. Think, then, of the difficulties. Imagine training one thousand -men into crawling monkeys. You can picture the scene. How weird! How -funny! But it had to be done. As the drill-book says, "You must see -without being seen, and take advantage of all cover." Thus did the -Glesca Mileeshy wriggle and crawl. Darwin would have been delighted. The -sight would have convinced him that man _did_ come from the crawling and -clambering apes of the forest. - -A week of this business fitted them for a more interesting -stage--namely, "Artillery Formations," or, in other words, the tactical -disposition of men to avoid the effects of artillery fire. The modern -shrapnel shell has a forward throw of about 200 yards and a lateral -spread of 50 yards. This necessitates the breaking of a company into -four little groups. Two groups or sections are in the front line, about -50 yards apart; two in the rear line with about 200 yards between them -and the first line, and about 50 yards between sections. The four -sections then move forward in a sort of diamond formation. This really -prevents a gunner getting the correct range, and even if he does get a -hit he can only blot out one of the sections. The sporting chance of -life, you will observe, is there for all. Quite a cunning device of our -General Staff; presenting to every man the opportunity of glory and the -chance (sometimes meagre) of getting home to one's own fireside. - -Artillery formation was at first a weird business to the old soldiers -accustomed to the straight business and marching with their whiskers in -line. The idea of manoeuvring in a lot of disordered groups distinctly -upset their precise barrack-square drill. It didn't look well, and that -seemed a weak point in the scheme. However, as the G.O.C. remarked, -"They would be glad of it when the Kaiser had his guns going at them." -But we must get on. Well, on reaching, say, seven hundred yards, all -were impressed with the need of urgently and rapidly extending to avoid -the rude effect of the enemy's rifle-fire. An enemy has little respect -for football-like crowds advancing to the attack. Their machine-guns -usually squirt out lead injections at a furious rate, with the most -startling results, hence the open order at the range indicated. It is -here, too, that the soldier must get behind a blade of grass or a jam -tin, anything likely to stop the bullet from putting him on the roll of -honour. From a vantage point, all are expected to create as many German -widows as they possibly can. Quite a murderous job, but delightfully -thrilling to the man who has the hereditary thirst for blood. In such a -phase, the third-class shot is of little account. The marksman, however, -has the time of his life. He can inoculate the brain or the little Mary -of his foe at will. Indeed, he can play nasty tricks with the angles of -the square-headed Teuton. If such is the case at seven and six hundred -yards, imagine the deadliness of matters at five, four, and lesser -ranges. - -Mistakes will happen in field-firing practices, as officers know to -their sorrow. Many rifle-ranges are used as grazing grounds for cattle -and sheep. These quadrupeds, as you are aware, have very bad manners. -They persist in getting in front of the targets just as a company is -opening out a deadly volley. Officers under such circumstances are -always careful to cease fire and clear the offenders away. But on one -occasion at the Mudtown range the officers happened to be having a -little refreshment in the range-keeper's hut. During this interval a -flock of prize sheep happened to stroll along in front of the khaki -figures. Just then Sergeant Maloney bellowed out--"At the enemy in -front--at four hundred--rapid fire." - -"Z--r--r--r--p," rattled the volley--not at the targets. The devil had -tempted the noble Militiamen to pot the sheep in front. Fifty fell, -others screamed and ran blindly about with bullets in their skin. - -"Cease fire!" roared Sergeant Maloney, but too late! The damage had been -done. "What the ...?..." - -Then the officers arrived. More ...? ...?...?... - -Next the farmer, and still more ...? ...?...?... - -Finally the colonel!...?...!...!...?...! - -Sergeant Maloney was placed under arrest, and every man was marched back -to the guardroom. This little incident cost the small sum of two hundred -pounds. The officers gladly paid--for the honour of the regiment. But -the affair was chronicled deep in regimental memories, especially in the -canteen, where the culprits received a certain amount of hero-worship. -"It wis d---- guid," as Tamson often remarked. - -Another interesting phase of modern training is scouting. Each battalion -has about twenty men trained for this job. The toughs of a battalion -make the best scouts. They will face anything, from a mad bull to a -German Division. Life to them is cheap. They glory in slitting an -enemy's throat and getting back with sound news. Naturally the training -of such gentlemen in peace times is troublesome. They _will_ get lost. -Any colonel will tell you that at manoeuvres he sees his scouts at the -beginning of an attack, seldom during or after the mimic battles, -especially in a district where inns and hospitable old ladies abound. -For example, in one great fight on the Hills of Mudtown, Colonel Corkleg -was determined to win the day. Information of the enemy's whereabouts -was, of course, absolutely essential for victory. For this he hailed his -worthy band of scouts. Spud Tamson was one. They were told to double out -a mile or so ahead and get in touch. As soon as they located the enemy, -all were instructed to retire at once with their reports. Gleefully they -marched away. Their intentions were good, but, alas! Colonel Corkleg was -opposed by a colonel of a Territorial Corps who had studied well the -temperament of the Militiamen against him. This alert Terrier instructed -his scout officer to bag the enemy's scouts at all costs, and see that -they were well treated. - -"I understand, sir," replied his alert intelligence officer. This smart -young subaltern marched off his merry men towards the enemy. He did not -worry about using his glasses or sending his men ahead to crawl through -hedges and drain-pipes. No, he simply marched them to the village, which -lay in the centre of the manoeuvre area. There was only one inn. In that -hostelry he was sure to find the opposing Buffalo Bills. - -"Steady," he cried, as they drew near. Creeping forward, he peered -through a corner of a window. Yes, there they were, sitting round a -table and enjoying four ale of an appetising kind. There was another -attraction--a buxom wench of eighteen, who had singled out Spud Tamson -as the object of her jests and affection. This bold young man was -leering into her eyes with a persistency akin to the style of Don Juan. - -"Good!" muttered the subaltern as he crept back again to his waiting -men. - -"Sergeant." - -"Yes, sir," answered the subaltern's henchman. - -"Here's five shillings. Take half the men and get inside there. Pay for -all they want and keep them merry. Whatever you do, see that they are -well entertained for two hours." - -"Very good, sir," replied the non-com., boldly stepping towards the -door. The officer then crept away with the remaining scouts. In twenty -minutes he located Colonel Corkleg's Corps in quarter column behind a -hill, with only half a company thrown out as an observation post. The -colonel was waiting for his scouts before he set out to annihilate -"those bally amateurs," as he termed the Territorials. While he was -fretting, fuming, and cursing the overdue scouts, the gallant subaltern -was busily pedalling back on a borrowed bicycle with his report. - -"Well," said the Territorial colonel, as his chief scout arrived. - -"I've bagged all their scouts, sir, and we can decimate the whole -regiment." - -"Good," said the C.O., avoiding unnecessary inquiries in anticipation of -future trouble with headquarters. - -"You can double the regiment, sir, to within five hundred yards of the -enemy. One company might engage their observation post; the remainder -might make a detour with our Maxim guns and annihilate the regiment." - -"Right--lead the way," ordered the colonel, signalling the advance. -Quickly they covered the ground. In half an hour they arrived at the -point to deploy. Leaving a company to engage the enemy in front, the -others circled round, then moved into long skirmishing lines. Down on -their knees they went, and up the hill all quietly crawled to bag the -Glesca Mileeshy. - -"Where _are_ those scouts?" said Colonel Corkleg in a furious manner. - -"_Can't_ understand, sir--most annoying," replied the adjutant. - -"It's worse--it's _damned_ annoying," raved the colonel, looking at his -watch. "But we can't wait. We had better move out to----" - -"Bang!" interjected a shot in his rear. Next there was a fierce volley -of blank on three sides of his position, while away to the front he -heard the volleys of his defending outposts. The startling onslaught -frightened his charger, which reared and flung him to mother earth. The -crack of the enemy's Maxims and the terrible crash of their musketry -threw the regiment, for the moment, into a state of panic and alarm. - -"Good Lord!--they've trapped us," roared the angry colonel, as he was -helped to his feet. - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - -"Extend--extend," ordered the now alert veteran, in an endeavour to save -his regiment. Alas! he was too late. Like one man the whole seven -companies of Territorials fixed their bayonets and charged down on to -the surprised Militiamen. It was, indeed, a glorious victory--one which -startled the Brigadier, who happened to ride on to the scene. - -"You've been scuppered, Corkleg," said the general, with a dry grin. - -"Yes, sir," was the tart reply of the disconsolate C.O. - -"Well--you're out of action. But why were you caught napping?" - -"Waiting for my scouts, sir." - -"Ah, Corkleg," interjected the Brigadier, "I thought you knew better. -Scouts are the only privileged absentees at this game. Have a look in -the nearest public-house," concluded the Brigadier as he rode away, well -pleased with the work of "those d---- amateurs," as Colonel Corkleg had -termed the enemy. By the way, this defeated colonel _did_ look for his -missing men. With his adjutant he rode towards the village. As they -neared the inn, sounds of revelry rent the air. A cracked piano was -playing "Tipperary," while many fuddled voices mumbled out the words of -this popular air. "Tipperary" was followed by a general shout of-- - - "Oh, we won't go home till morning, - We won't go home till morning, - We won't go home till mor-n-n-ing, - And so say all of us." - -"'Shun!" roared the adjutant, as he led the way into the tap-room. - -Spud Tamson disengaged his arm from the barmaid's neck and jumped, or, -rather, staggered to attention with his pals. - -"What are you men doing here?" - -"We're scouts," answered all, with one accord. - -"And who are you?" inquired the colonel of the Territorial's sergeant -and his party. - -"Scouts, sir." - -Corkleg stamped out and rode home like the Kaiser in a rage. For the -next ten days the scouts of the Glesca Mileeshy were under the care of -Sergeant Bludgeon, the police sergeant. His total prohibition campaign -made them thirsty, but not wiser, men. - -Any chapter on training must also refer to night operations, generally -called Night Attacks. These operations are never popular in times of -training. They interfere with social engagements. The finest dinners -have to be refused, and the most amorous engagements cancelled. These -attacks in real war are simply organised nightmares to shorten the life -of the enemy. They are difficult, and only successful under the most -favourable conditions. Mistakes always happen. And, to an officer, such -sorties are anxious affairs. Think of leading a company, every man of -which has a bayonet as keen as a razor edge. Remember that every bayonet -is carried at the "Charge." If there is a sudden halt in the course of -the advance, the officer's anatomy generally acts as a sort of buffer -for the nearest blade. Indeed, it is safe to assert that the reason for -an officer's quick and gallant advance in the assault is not his thirst -for death ahead, but his fear of death from some careless fellow behind. -To prevent such accidents, the officers of the Glesca Mileeshy always -carried coats, canteens, and a general emporium on their backs. These -articles were most useful as a shield in case of accidents. - -Talking was barred and smoking absolutely prohibited. The red glow of -one cigarette on a night job is enough to give a whole Division away. -This had to be deeply impressed on the brains of these gallants. They -did their best to comply--a severe test to the garrulous gentry who also -believed in "thick black." Subdued excitement was always characteristic -of these affairs. The chirping of a bird, the rustle of leaves and -creaking of trees, were signs of "the enemy." - -Preliminary night attacks were done on the Mudtown Common--a great -expanse which had been gifted by a king to the sweethearts of all ages. -The loneliness and darkness of this area may be imagined. This place, by -the way, was the rendezvous of the Territorials at dusk. In all of its -dark corners these gay Lotharios told the old, old tale. The Militia -knew this, and, still bitter with the poison of their great defeat, -determined to have revenge. It was to be accomplished on a night attack. - -"We'll get oor ain back the nicht," said Spud Tamson on hearing the -orders given for night operations. - -"How?" asked Micky Cameron. - -"The Terriers are no' trainin' the nicht. They'll be a' owre the place. -We'll capture them an' their weemin and bring them in tae the colonel." -This great plot was quietly sent round. When the regiment paraded, all -were thrilled with the prospect of fun ahead. Of course the officers -knew nothing about it. That would have spoiled the game. - -"Gentlemen," said the colonel to his group of officers, "we shall -imagine an enemy at the other end of the Common. Our plan is to make a -simple reconnaissance from this, our outpost line. Two companies will go -out, the remainder will stay here. The enemy which is represented by the -Mudshire Militia will also have strong patrols in front. Elude or -capture them, but do something useful." - -"Very good, sir," replied the officers concerned, moving off. These -officers split up their companies into strong patrols and sent them out -as arranged. The darkness swallowed them up almost instantly. For half -an hour there was a tense silence, broken only by an occasional patter -of feet, as a scout returned with the necessary false news from the -various patrols to keep the officers at ease while the comedy went on in -the darkness. Then the trouble began. Shouts and screams rent the wintry -air and carried far, while here and there a thud or scuffling noise made -the expectant colonel and his staff prick up their ears. - -"What the devil is wrong?" said Corkleg anxiously. - -"There's women there, that is evident from the screaming," ventured -Coronet. - -"It seems to me your patrols have gone woman hunting instead of man -hunting." - -"Well--eh--yes." - -"Send another patrol out and see what's on, and stop that awful din," -ordered the irate C.O. - -Another patrol went forth, but to no purpose. The screaming and -scuffling continued, to the annoyance of the officers and the secret -delight of the men. To understand it better, let us picture the scene. -In each dark corner, and beneath every great oak tree, was a loving -couple. These youthful warriors and their girls were lost to the world. -What mattered the Germans? What mattered the waiting sergeants who were -calling the roll in the billets beyond? They loved and were beloved. And -so into each servant and shop-girl's ear they poured those words which -have thrilled all women since the advent of Eve. So lost were they in -this fairyland that none heard the crawling patrols of the Glesca -Mileeshy. The real enemy mattered little to these warriors. It was the -Terriers' blood they desired. Into each nook and up to each tree went -these rascals. Just as each pair were renewing their bonds of affection -in a long--long--kiss there was a general shout of "Hands up" all over -the Mudtown Common. - -"Oh!" shrieked the girls. - -"Get out," roared the Terriers. - -"Hands up," persisted the Militiamen, presenting their glittering -bayonets in a manner distressful to the anatomy of the men. This -menacing attitude, with the fierce expression on the tough faces of the -aggressors, sent nearly all the ladies into tears and hysterics. But all -the tears and shrieks were of little avail. They were prisoners, and, as -such, would be presented to the powers that be. They cursed and -struggled, but the rifle slings and bootlaces of their captors -eventually subdued all resistance. Pitiful they looked; more pitiful -were the girls who followed their captured braves, with handkerchiefs to -their eyes. - -This, then, was the awful din which Colonel Corkleg had heard. Louder it -grew as the returning warriors neared the zone of flashing torchlights, -which now indicated the end of the operations and the position of the -outpost lines. - -"In the name of Heaven, what is this?" ejaculated the C.O. on seeing one -patrol emerging into the light with four battered Terriers and their -weeping lovers. - -"Prisoners, sir," was a Tommy's blunt reply. - -"What--more of them?" he again remarked as a great big sergeant was -carried in, all gagged and bound. This was the scout-sergeant who had -played his part so well in the old village inn. The colonel recognised -the N.C.O., and inwardly chuckled. - -"Still more, sir," ventured the adjutant, as four more patrols came -forward with the battered remnants of the Territorial Force. - -"But these men are not the enemy," insisted the colonel in his official -tone. - -"Na, sir, but they _were_ the enemy the ither day. We're piyin' them -back," chirped Micky Cameron. - -"Ay! an' here's an officer," gleefully yelled a brave then coming into -the light. - -"A what?" queried the now startled colonel. - -"An officer, sir," said Spud Tamson, saluting proudly as he presented -the form of a young subaltern who had been having a quiet stroll with -the daughter of the Brigadier. - -"I protest, sir. It is an insult to me and my regiment." - -"Yes, positively disgusting," pouted a very charming maid of seventeen, -with a haughty flush on her cheek. - -"We didnae protest the ither day when you made us fu' in the pub," -chirped Spud, almost sticking his nose into the young scout-officer's -face. - -"Silence!" roared Colonel Corkleg. - -Addressing the officer, he said, "I apologise for this rude interference -with your very pleasant mission. I can well understand your -indignation," at the same time casting a roguish glance at the pretty -girl. - -"Oh, it's all right, sir," replied the subaltern, saluting and marching -off. - -A similar apology was tendered to all the other captured swains when -they were allowed to depart. "Fall in" was then sounded, and all marched -merrily home. In the officers' mess that night the laughter was loud and -long, for their men had squared the defeat of the previous day. Even the -colonel let himself go, and laughed till his old artificial leg rattled -on the floor with glee. - -"Useful men, eh," he concluded. - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -ALL ABOUT SPIES. - - -_Giddy_ Greens, to whom you have already been introduced, was a queer -fellow. He was a mixture of Beau Brummel, Cæsar, and Don Juan--one who -dressed well, fought well, and kissed gloriously, as a flapper would -say. He was also a student, and certainly a daring adventurer. His fine -complexion, well-groomed figure, and air of blasé indifference, gave to -all the idea that he was simply a delightful idiot who hunted women and -tippled good wine. But Giddy Greens was something like that hero in 'The -Scarlet Pimpernel'--a man who had his strength and ambition under a mask -of genial imbecility. He knew English literature upside down, and -delighted to rave about the glories of Shakespeare, Milton, and -Stevenson. A traveller too, for Giddy Greens had toured the whole world -on a ten-pound note. He had done everything from cattle-ranching to that -of a super in a third-class Musical Comedy. To women he was ever a hero. -His magnetic personality was of a forceful yet charming kind. - -Still Greens was a very serious man. Imperialism was his dream; -patriotism his ideal and pride. He lived for Britain. In all his -wanderings he preached for the flag. In these ramblings, too, he -observed things, noted them down, and then startled his friends by his -discoveries. The Germans he loathed, and the Germans he had followed -from John o' Groats to Timbuctoo. He had dogged German travellers and -spies from Tilbury Docks through Egypt, Ceylon, Australasia, Canada, and -Japan. Like Sherlock Holmes, he followed quick, yet silent. At the -outpost of Empire he had seen the evil work of Prussian hands. It was -Greens who discovered "The League of the Fatherland"--that is, a German -semi-official and social organisation within the British Empire. He -found that it was bossed by their Consuls, and he found nearly all -Vice-Consuls to be officers--and spies. He had written to the press and -revealed these things, but the luxurious-living public only laughed. -They had no time; they had engagements for music halls, football, and -golf. The awful dangers, however, stirred this zealot on. He kept at the -Teutons' heels and learned more things. These were revealed one night at -mess when Greens had declared that the bombardment of Sandtown-on-Sea -was the fruitful work of spies. - -"Explain, Greens," shouted one of the subalterns. - -"Well, I'll tell you. I first discovered the Germans at work on the -North-east Coast. Every German waiter, schoolmaster, and tradesman in -all the towns from Peterhead to Dundee I found to be spies. They were in -"The League of the Fatherland." All were registered by the Consul. In -the event of invasion every man would have a part in the job. In the -times of peace they studied the coast, the tides, the location of ships -and troops, the position of guns, everything, in fact, which would be of -use. These things were reported in writing to their Consuls, or -verbally, when the League met at the many German clubs and gatherings. I -pointed this out. - -"In what way?" asked an anxious sub. - -"A story which appeared in 'The Daily Owl.' In that romance I let them -know what was going on. Yes, I frightened the lackadaisical bounders -into a panic. Lunan Bay I pointed out as a landing-place. The coast near -St. Andrews I also emphasised as a jumping-off shore, while Dundee was -proved to be without a gun or boat to defend it; in fact, the whole -coast displayed a general invitation to the Germans to come and shoot." - -"What happened?" - -"Some official big-wig stopped the story." - -"Why?" - -"It showed every weakness up, but----" - -"What?" - -"They got to work. Dundee got a submarine base; Montrose got aeroplanes; -Fife was scheduled out for guns, troops, and trenches; Cromarty was -seized and fortified; and Rosyth works pushed on." - -"You finished then, I suppose?" - -"No fear. I went out to the Dominion of Canada to see how things were -going." - -"And what did you find?" - -"A German traveller in every train representing subsidised goods to cut -out our British trade. A German club in every town for the general -entertainment of spies. German women who were willing to sell their -souls to gain the secrets of State, and fools in Canada like our own -fools at home, who laughed at it all, who gave trade to these Germans, -who toyed with the women designed to lure and rob them of their -heritage. Worse, in every coast town on the Atlantic and Pacific there -were the same German waiters, the same rascally Consuls, the same old -League of the Fatherland. These men knew and had told the War Gods of -Berlin that the forts of Halifax, Quebec, and Esquimalt were almost -obsolete; that their guns were somewhat ancient; and that the Canadian -Militia system was inadequate, loosely organised, and unfit to provide -an auxiliary force for a sudden mobilisation to aid our Expeditionary -Force at home." - -"Prove it," interjected Lieutenant Longlegs. - -"Read Bernhardi's book. He got his information from these spies in the -Dominion of Canada." - -"Well, what did you do?" - -"I spoke to the man then at the helm of military matters. I emphasised -the dangers, and asked him what he was going to do. 'Young man,' said -he, 'we've enough to do. We've got a mighty fine country to develop and -people. We can't be pioneers and soldiers too. And we can't get men in -this country to soldier for a shilling a day.'" - -"What did you say to that?" - -"I simply said that there was some truth in his statements, but I also -pointed out that Canada, like America, was getting dollar mad. -Materialism, I argued, was beginning to be their all in all. Success had -made them a little selfish, and I showed him that up till then they had -contributed little in the way of ships to guard the Pacific against the -coming peril, and aid our merchant destroyers in the time of war. Of -course he got angry. Canadians don't like the truth. That was proved by -General Fearless, who chucked up his job there rather than command such -a system." - -"But, you'll agree, they're playing the game now." - -"Certainly, and they'll fight the Germans like devils; but my point is -this, that if they had had their Pacific Fleet thoroughly organised, we -might have been able to avoid disasters and have shortened the war. And, -of course, it is only fair to say that their new Defence Minister is -nobly trying to remedy the horrible slackness of the past. But politics -are the curse of Canada. Politics have retarded Canadian defence. -However, things will be better there after this war." - -"Are the Australians the same?" - -"Not quite. They have done more for true Imperial defence than any other -dominion. They have got national service. Every man is a soldier. And, -mark you, it was a Labour Government that introduced national service -into Australia. Now, that's a wonderful thing, when you consider that -Australians used to abhor discipline and stake their all on pleasure. -But these labour men realised the growing yellow peril. Again they had -plumped for a white Australia, and so they determined to defend a worthy -ideal. I grant you that their Fleet is somewhat small, that the -armaments of Sydney defences and other harbours need much attention. But -they can't do everything in a day. They have only a population of five -million to work on, and a great country to develop. What they have done -is wonderful, and they deserve the greatest credit." - -"Then, have the Germans been working there too?" - -"Yes. Australia was permeated with the German system of espionage. Their -commercial Huns have collared the metal market there. The North German -Lloyd Company have been trying for years to cut out the Orient Line and -the P. and O. And, in Sydney itself, I have heard the German Vice-Consul -drink to 'The Day,' and curse the Empire which kept his country out of -the sun. The Australians, like the Canadians and ourselves, were too -busy with other things to hunt out these tools of the Kaiser. However, -they have now got the order of the boot." - -"Do your remarks apply to New Zealand?" inquired a sub. - -"New Zealand," continued Greens, "is a land of patriots. The New -Zealanders call it God's country. That is a good name. It flows with -milk and honey, and its people have not forgotten how to love. Their -temperate climate has preserved all the nobility of our northern -temperament, while the general prosperity of the land has eliminated -almost every trace of the misery and poverty so characteristic of Great -Britain. The beauty of New Zealand is that it is small. Bill Jones of -Auckland in the North Island knows Tom Brown in Invercargill (South -Island). When Lizzie Smith of Wellington gets married, every townsman -and cockey in both islands wires his congratulations. A New Zealand lady -can give you the pedigree of every known family in the little Dominion. -And every one knew Dick Seddon, just as well as they know Bill Massey, -the present Premier of the Dominion. A Governor-General in New Zealand -is compelled to be 'At Home' to all--and a good thing too." - -"What about defence?" - -"Splendid! Their defence system is the same as that in Australia. Every -man carries a gun; better still, every one is delighted to carry his -gun. Their mounted men are wonderful, and they possess some of the -finest field artillery in our Imperial Army. One great mistake they made -was the installation of the German Telfunkin system of Wireless. They -were too honest, perhaps, to realise the full significance of such a -decision. And like Australians, Canadians, and Britishers, they have -been foolish enough to be courteous to the parasites who represented the -evil materialism of Kaiser Bill." - -"You haven't said anything about the women?" - -"Oh, charming!" interjected Greens, with a smile which suggested many -hours of delight with the ladies of the North and South Island. "And my -advice is this--if you want a real fine girl for a wife and chum, marry -a New Zealander." - -"Cheer oh!" chirped Coronet, inviting all to drink to the girls of -Maoriland. - -"At the same time, Greens, don't you think that our Secret Service is -just as good as the Germans?" - -"Well--it's quite good. And its great merit is that it never speaks. -While the Germans openly vaunt their wonderful system, our men apply -themselves quietly and sternly to their task. Such a service includes -men of the most chivalrous and daring kind; it also numbers some of the -queer folks. You see they are not officially recognised. If nabbed in -the act, they must pay the price. While a thoroughly patriotic service, -it is, unfortunately, one which we can never honour in a truly public -way. There are skeletons 'neath the soil in all parts of Germany of many -noble fellows who have died for the Cause. In German fortresses you can -see others who foretold the war, who helped to place our Expeditionary -Force in the right spot to meet the great hordes who tried to capture -Paris. The work of these men has been accomplished throughout a period -when public opinion denied Germany's intentions and refused to affirm -the theories of such splendid prophets as the late Lord Roberts. Think -of the mental tortures of such patriots. Picture their agony and grief -when viewing the careless throng. How cruel! How maddening it must have -been! Yet each went on ploughing a lonely and dangerous furrow over the -fields of German espionage and defence. You talk about bravery under -shrapnel and in face of the bayonets of Huns! But it takes a brave heart -to do that job. And, mark you, if Germans are good at the game, the -French are as good, and the Russians infinitely better. It may be a -sound policy for us to allow the cocksure German spy to buy the faked -maps, plans, and news, and to stop the same from going through the post. -But public opinion ought to be more firm on the question of naturalised -Germans and their families. These are the men who have grown wealthy in -our midst, who have married our women, who have been honoured by the -greatest of our institutions; yet, all the while, their homes and -offices have been the centre of intrigue for the downfall of this land -of ours. The real German spy, who is unnaturalised, and risks his life, -deserves as much credit as the brave men of the Prussian Guard. But the -low swine who would sever the hand that has fed them are the ones we -should hound out of our country." - -"But I say, Greens," interrupted Captain Coronet, "don't you think we -have frightened these bounders?" - -"No. They are still working. And they even cover their sins by sending -their sons into the commissioned and other ranks of our forces. Many of -these boys fight gallantly for us, while their dirty old fathers are -playing a double game. I admit we must be generous. A German must remain -a German. He is entitled to his patriotism. Still, that is no argument -for our stupidity. Our land, our homes, our liberty, and our women are -dear to us. By heavens! we have got the finest heritage of all the -nations. It's worth fighting for; yes, worth dying for." - -"Good old Greens," echoed the thrilled subalterns. Then Longlegs started -him off again by the sceptical inquiry-- - -"Look here, Greens, can you prove what you say? If you can catch a real -live spy in Mudtown within the next month, I'll stand champagne all -round." - -"Done," said Greens, with an emphasis which startled all. "But, I say, -it's two _A.M._ We've been talking for hours. We'd better go to bed. -Good-night." - -"Good-night, Greens," answered his fellow-officers, remaining a little -behind to discuss the wonderful phase of his character which Greens had -so well revealed. - -"Longlegs," said Coronet, as he turned into his sleeping bags, "you've -lost your bet. Greens will keep his word." - -"Good luck to him," replied the long subaltern as he also went off into -the arms of Morpheus. - - ---- - -For many nights Greens was absent from dinner. This did not surprise -those in the know. He was spy-hunting. Though the military and police -had terrified many of the fraternity, Greens knew that he would at least -catch one. So he lounged carelessly through the streets, casually -glancing at every face. Unlike the average policeman, he did not search -for the square head, flaxen hair, and soft-footed Teuton. He could tell -by their eyes. Strange as this may seem, any Intelligence Officer will -substantiate the same. The spy has that peculiar glint of cunning, with -a touch of the haunted and hunted, and the shifty movements which always -suggest a base intent. Such a keen student of espionage found little -difficulty in locating his man. Nevertheless he waited almost a -fortnight before he got his chance, and then it came almost -unexpectedly. While lounging carelessly in a public place, he was amazed -to hear a man using German gutturals behind. This person was inquiring -of his friend, in a somewhat casual style, as to the number of troops in -the town, where they were located, and what was their job in the event -of any attack. Listening intently, he discovered a keen German brain -analysing all the replies of the honest and simple-minded citizen. -Through a mirror the observant officer studied the face of the spy. -Strong, almost English, with firm set lines and a chin suggesting -courage of a bull-dog kind. An excellent type for such a mission. His -flaxen hair and a slight student cut on the lip were the only outward -signs of his race. His English, to an ordinary man, would have passed -unobserved, but Greens detected the thick guttural now and again, as -well as a furtive glance towards his own person. This German agent was -unaware of the keen scrutiny which he was being subjected to through the -mirror. Nor did he imagine that the officer who paid his bill and went -out would confront him again with his escort of soldiers. - -"Who is he?" asked Greens of the proprietor. - -"A German, sir." - -"Thank you, I'll be back in a minute," and off went the spy hunter to -the nearest billet. - -There he collared an escort, and marched to the place again. The German -was just going out. - -"Excuse me, aren't you a German?" - -"Yes, sir. Here is my passport, signed by the Foreign Secretary, also my -birth certificate," replied the Teuton, pulling out the bonds of safety -which a sleepy officialdom gives to the enemies of our country. - -"Naturalised?" - -"Yes, certainly; my mother and friends are knitting socks for the -troops," he answered testily. - -"You seem to be interested in our troops here?" - -"Everybody is--it's natural at a time like this." - -"Perhaps," said Greens, stroking his chin and sizing up his man in case -of emergency. - -"What are you doing here?" - -"I'm an agent for iron goods." - -"The name of your firm?" - -"----, London." - -"That's an alien firm." - -"A naturalised German. You don't deny us the right to live?" - -"No, but I deny you the right to spy." - -"You are insolent, and you will be asked to prove your words," said the -German in a threatening way. - -"Keep cool! Now, look here, this passport shows that you were in Germany -at the time of mobilisation. It also shows that you were in France at -the time that the advance was made on Paris. Can you explain?" - -"Of course, I was on business for my firm." - -"The Secret Service, eh?" - -"No, sir; again you insult me." - -"Very well; quick march." - -"I refuse." - -"Take him off," ordered Greens sternly to the escort. - -"Uh!" was the fierce exclamation of the baffled Teuton, stepping on with -his guards. He was quickly placed under lock and key. In his bag Greens -found correspondence in code, envelopes from a famous "firm" which -always paid well for information, as well as a heap of notes and gold. A -simple citizen and the ordinary policeman would have passed this man as -innocent, but Greens found a clever Intelligence Officer who labelled -this German as an Inspector of the Espionage System. He travelled around -for his iron goods. He also called on his local "friends," and paid good -cash for "services rendered," as many receipts in his possession showed. -In a few words, Greens proved his contention that this man, like -thousands more, was a spy, immune from arrest because of -naturalisation,--a scrap of paper which ought to be ruthlessly burned -and disregarded when found on any of German birth or origin. There was a -smile on Greens' face as he entered the mess-room that evening. - -"Why that smile?" inquired Longlegs. - -"The smile means champagne. Your spy is in the garrison guard-room, and -to-morrow, no doubt, will find him interned for many a long day." - -"Cheer ho," yelled the subs, gathering round to hear the spy-hunting -exploit. That was the last spy caught in Mudtown. The German Secret -Service labelled it "Dangerous." If every policeman was as alert as -Greens, all of these naturalised scoundrels would be under lock and key -to-day. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -A COMPANY OFFICER'S WORRIES. - - -_Uneasy_ lies the head that wears a captain's crown, for the lot of a -company officer is like that of a policeman--not a very happy one. He is -not only captain of 120 souls, but father, jailor, pastor, and -moneylender. His day is a day of toil and worry. It is only a strong man -who can hold a company within bounds and at the same time retain their -love and respect. A captain must necessarily be a gentleman. I do not -mean by that that he must have his name on the scroll of peers, but -rather the possession of honour, with a great sense of justice and -infinite tact. The company officer is the man who has helped to win many -battles. Quebec, Waterloo, and Mons were successes because the company -officer loved his men and the men loved their company officer. Germans -cannot understand how British soldiers fight and die so gloriously -without that brutal discipline so characteristic of Teuton arms. When -Germans are captured, it is always noted how the officers refuse to -sympathise with their men in their shame and defeat. They stand aloof -and scorn the men who have braved so much for the Fatherland. They seem -to loathe the men, who have really done remarkably well in view of the -overpowering opposition of the Allies. To a Britisher this is -disgusting, for the Britisher realises that Love rules this whole world. -"Look after the men," said Colonel Corkleg, "and when you're in a tight -corner they'll look after you." That was why no officer of his regiment -ever tasted food till the men had been fed; why many an officer carried -a sick man's rifle and pack on a weary march; why they bribed everybody -and anybody in the Quartermaster's stores for extra bread, extra beef, -spare boots, shirts, and socks. In the officers' mess no one dared to -allude to his men in scornful tones. The subalterns themselves deemed -this an offence which merited a cold bath in full regimentals and drinks -all round. But there, it is the company officer we have to specially -deal with at the moment. - -An efficient company officer must know every man's name and understand -each man's temperament. More important, he must be able to handle each -man's moods, to instil into him the best and kill the worst. There are -men that he must curse, and curse loud and long; there are others he -must only coax and wheedle like an obstinate beauty in a ballroom. When -there is mutiny, unhappiness, and discontent, never blame the men; blame -the officer. He doesn't know his job, and should get the boot. A -well-disciplined company means a happy company. To a casual observer, -the average company officer may seem an idle person who issues orders -then disappears. Not at all. Every day he finds a thousand problems. For -example, Captain Coronet was one day met at the corner of the billet by -Private Micky Malone, who carried a black-bordered envelope in his hand. - -"Beg pardon, sor, can I spake?" - -"Well, Malone." - -"My ould father's dead, sor--can I get a wake-end pass?" - -"Your father?" queried the captain, who knew his man. - -"Yes, sor, he died wid consumption o' the bowels." - -"But look here, Malone, your father died last year, for I remember -giving you a pass and lending you a pound to go to the funeral." - -"That was the wife's father." - -"How _many_ fathers _have_ you got?" - -"Wan, sor." - -"But look here, Malone, you've had about a dozen grandfathers, fathers, -mothers, sisters, and wives who have died since mobilisation. You're a -bit of a liar--eh?" - -"Ach, sure, sor, ye know I'm dacent. I've only been in the guardhouse -twice this month." - -"But why do you tell lies, Malone?" - -"Well, sor, to tell ye the truth, Widow Riley's havin' a dance for the -bhoys. She's a bit swate on me, an' she's asked me through." - -"That's a different story. Why didn't you tell me that at first?" - -"Sure, sor, I only told the truth once in me life, an' the ould judge -sentenced me to thirty days." - -"Well, you can have a pass--but, by the way, let me see that letter." - -Malone hesitated, then handed the captain the black-bordered epistle. -This the company officer carefully perused. A smile crept over his face -as he remarked--"Look here, Malone, this is the same letter that -Cameron, M'Haggis, and Muldoon showed me when they wanted leave for a -funeral." - -"Yis, sor." - -"You pass this round, I suppose?" - -"Yis, sor." - -"Well, you won't pass it round any more, understand!" said the captain, -tearing it up. - -"Yis, sor," replied Malone, saluting smartly, and marching off to report -to his cronies how the captain had collared this general service -document. - -Just as Captain Coronet reached the foot of the stairs he was met by -Private Sneaky, a weedish-looking gent. - -"Well?" - -"I waant tae mak' a complaint, sir." - -"What about?" - -"Private M'Ginty punched me for naethin' at a', an' gied me a black -e'e." - -"I see; well, come with me," said the captain, entering the billet and -calling for M'Ginty. - -"Look here, M'Ginty, this man complains that you struck him without -cause." - -"Well, sir, he's a greedy yin. He's pinched wan o' the recruit's dinner -every day for a week, so I jist punched him on the nose." - -"Quite right, M'Ginty. If you get him at it again, knock his head off, -and break every bone in his body. Get out, you scoundrel." Off tailed -the little rascal, for in all regiments you will find a few -undesirables. - -"Private M'Nab wishes to see you, sir," then remarked the -colour-sergeant. - -"What is it, M'Nab," inquired the captain kindly, for M'Nab was a good -soldier. - -"The wife's bad, sir, an' the wee boy's got consumption. The doctor says -they're tae get steak, eggs, an' beef-tea, but I canna' dae that on a -shillin' a day." - -"I'm sorry to hear that, M'Nab--very sorry. But look here, I'll write to -the doctor to-day and tell him to buy everything that they need. Will -that keep your mind easy?" - -"Thenk ye, sir. It's awfu' guid o' ye." - -"And it's very good of you, M'Nab, one with all your responsibilities, -to serve your country. That's why I do it." - -"I'll no' forget you, sir," concluded M'Nab with a lump in his throat, -as he saluted and marched away. - -"Here's a letter from Private Smith's mother, sir. She says he hasn't -sent any money for a month, sir, and when he was on pass he got drunk, -smashed up the crockery, and pawned the old woman's bedclothes." - -"Call him up." - -"What's this you have been doing?" - -"Nothing, sir," was the insolent reply. - -"Do you call insulting and robbing your mother, nothing? You're a low -rascal. Now, look here, I'm sending your mother two pounds to-day to -keep her going. But I'm going to stop it out of your pay. Charity would -be wasted on a man like you. And if I were not an officer I would give -you a sound thrashing." - -"I'm sorry, sir,--I'll no' dae it again." - -"You had better not--fall out." - -"Private O'Toole has lost his eye, sir," remarked the colour-sergeant. - -"What!" exclaimed the amazed captain. - -"His eye, sir." - -"Is he in hospital?" - -"No, sir." - -"Why not? He must be in agony. How did it happen?" - -"It's a false one, sir," chirped in O'Toole with a grin. - -"Ah!" laughed the captain, "I never knew that before." - -"I used tae hae a guid wan, sir, but I lost it. The wife gied me yin oot -o' a doll's e'e. It didnae look weel, but it wis guid enough." - -"How did you lose that one?" - -"I left it on the bed tae watch ma hauf loaf. When I came back it wis -awa'." - -"Well, I'll buy you a new one. Still, I don't see how you can shoot at -the Germans." - -"If I cannae shoot, sir, I can feel them wi' the bayonet. Nelson had -only wan e'e, sir." - -"All right, O'Toole." - -"Thank you, sir." - -"What's next, colour-sergeant?" - -"The meat is short. All the men are complaining, but the cook says the -weight's there." - -"Umph! Is the cook married?" - -"No, sir; but I believe he is well in with a widow in the town." - -"Well, colour-sergeant, you know what widows are, and you know what -cooks are. Put a policeman on to watch him. You'll probably find him -carrying all the choice steaks out at night. If you nab him, I'll deal -with him." - -"Then, sir, a lot of the blankets are being stolen." - -"Heavens! This life is full of troubles. What is the cause?" - -"Women, sir! Women! Root of all evil, sir." - -"Well, I'll see the colonel about that." - -(Next day Sergeant Bludgeon and his policemen raided the haunts of every -Mary Ann in Mudtown. Two hundred blankets were found--and collared.) - -"Some of the boots have gone amissing. These devils would steal the -sugar out of your tea, sir. I'm nearly balmy, sir. They pawn them for -beer, sir." - -"Well, I'm----!" ejaculated Coronet. "What are we to do?" - -"Make them march in their bare feet, sir. That will teach them. They'll -soon find another pair--without paying for them. You're too -kind-hearted, sir. They put it on to you." - -"I suppose they do; in fact, I know they do. But there! they can fight -like Trojans. And that is a great consolation, should we ever get in a -fix. Now, is there any more correspondence?" - -"Just one letter, sir. And a queer one, too. Here it is," said the -colour-sergeant, handing over a dirty, grease-marked epistle. - - ---- - - _Dear Officer_,-- - -I'm in grate pane, my Sweethart Privit Spud Tamson in your Kumpany is -gaun wi' ither weemin. He hisnae ritten me for a fortnicht. And a lad on -Pass tell't me that he wis flirtin' an' kissin' ither lasses (servants -in big hooses). He promist tae mairry me owre a year ago, an' I've been -savin' up. It's jist awfu'. If he disnae stop it, I'll droon masel' in -the Clyde. Wull ye tell him that, kind sir. I'll no' forget ye, and I'll -send ye a pair o' hame-made socks at Ne'erday. - - I Am, - Yours Respeckfully, - _Mary Ann_. - -"The limit, sir, eh?" - -"Worse than that. Call that man up." - -"Yes, sir," said Tamson, unprepared for the revelations concerning his -infidelity. - -"Listen," said the captain, in his most solemn tones. Then he read the -amazing document, during which Private Spud Tamson grew red, then white, -red again, and finally finished up in a sort of purple, apoplectic hue. - -"Very serious, Tamson. I'm afraid you are a cabbage-hearted youth. And -you seem to have been having the time of your life below stairs." - -"The lassie's bletherin', sir. I wis jist gettin' a feed. A' the cooks -are kind tae the sodgers." - -"Cupboard love, I suppose?" - -"Na, beefsteak, sir." - -"I'm afraid you'll be landed in for a breach of promise case. Pretty -serious that, Tamson." - -"I'll square her a' richt, sir." - -"How?" - -"Buy her a new shawl on piy-day." - -"It's not a shawl your Mary Ann wants. It's love. Do you know what that -means?" - -"Fine, sir." - -"What is it?" - -"Oh, kissin'." - -"Anything else?" - -"Gettin' mairret, sir." - -"And----" - -"Sausage and eggs for breakfast." - -"That's stomach love, Tamson; but there, I expect your heart's all -right. See and write that girl a letter. She's pretty bad." - -"All right, sir--ay----" - -"What?" - -"Can you lend me a shullin' tae buy a stamp, sir?" - -"Yes--when you bring the letter." - -Thus was Tamson reminded of the obligations of the past. His lapse had -only been of a temporary kind. He had simply been enjoying himself in -the kitchens of the mighty suburbanites of Mudtown. The much-blotted and -effusive epistle which he penned was generously marked with crosses, and -in each corner was placed a crude-looking heart with the shaft of Cupid -piercing through. - -Such are the worries of a company officer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -NEW YEAR'S EVE. - - -_The_ end of the year is always a merry--and a critical--time in a -Scottish regiment. Since the invention of whisky and haggis, New Year -has become the season of high feeding and hard drinking. Even the Free -Kirker deems it his duty to carry a hauf-mutchkin and a cake. And in the -Army it has long been the custom to almost abandon discipline and allow -officers and men to enjoy themselves in a thoroughly hearty way. But on -this New Year's Eve there were circumstances which compelled Colonel -Corkleg to adopt stern measures so as to keep his men in hand. The first -and most important was the activity of the Teutons. These alert students -of human nature knew the value of landing in Scotland. They also -understood the tippling temperament of the average Scot at this period. -And as they had every ship and Zeppelin ready to disturb the orgies of -the Scottish nation, it was essential to be spruce, sober, and alert. -Every officer realised this, but every Tommy entirely disagreed. They -would spend their Ne'erday, come what may. Colonel Corkleg and his -fellow-chiefs decided to counteract their schemes of revelry. Passes -were barred after 9.30 _P.M._ Every road was picketed. Every -public-house within a radius of three miles had almost a regiment on -duty at the door. All mounted men were turned into policemen, while all -N.C.O.'s were duly warned to abstain from the evils of the national -fire-water. Each company officer harangued his men about the wine which -stingeth like a serpent and biteth like an adder. And Sergeant-Major -Fireworks, with his crony, Sergeant Bludgeon, suddenly became pious and -abstemious--in anticipation of events. The final stratagem, however, -staggered all. No man was to be paid on this--the great day. -Lamentations, groans, and curses were heard on all sides when this order -went round. It almost smashed the ingenious scheming of thirsty -gentlemen who knew every shebeen in Mudtown. Nevertheless they sallied -forth, determined to get hospitality--or demand it--from their many pals -and patrons. Down the muddy road they tramped, singing-- - - "We've had no pay, - We've had no pay, - We've had no pay, - No b----y pay to-day." - -And drink they found. Those that did not secure it, managed to collar a -draught of methylated spirits--a time-honoured beverage amongst -penurious Scots. Having had their fill, they sauntered towards the Cross -to bring the New Year in. The pickets, however, requested or shoved them -back to billets without ceremony. And, amazing to relate, on the roll -being called, only ten were absent. When "lights out" went, there was a -prompt response, which surprised the officers. These unsuspecting -gentlemen, believing that the usual revelries would not occur, departed -to their beds to rave about the splendid discipline of the regiment. -Sergeant-Major Fireworks and Sergeant Bludgeon knew better. The -deathlike stillness they gauged to be a deep game. - -"Don't trust them, major?" - -"No; I'm too old a soldier for that. They've got something on--I bet. -Let's have a walk round." - -Quietly they slipped round the billets of the regiment. - -"Here, Bludgeon--what's that?" said the S.M. peering through the -darkness. - -"It's a long pole, and the blighters are sliding down it." - -"A pole!" - -"Yes. Listen." - -One by one, over a hundred men slid down the long pole from the window -to a quiet field. There they were gathering prior to a general advance -on Mudtown Mission Hall, where a hundred mill-girls had pledged to bring -the New Year in and kiss them under the mistletoe. It was an awkward -situation--doubly awkward because of their discontent about pay and the -lures of the buxom wenches beyond. Once women enter into such problems -the difficulties are manifold. A thousand men with fixed bayonets would -not stop this contingent. Something unusual and extraordinary had to be -done. For once, Sergeant Bludgeon knew that his immortal stick was -useless. Yet he knew there was only one road to the Mission. This -climbed up a hill through a deep sort of gully. The head of that gully -must be held at all costs. - -"I've got the idea, major," whispered the provost-sergeant. - -"What?" - -"Weesht! This way," and off scampered the wardens of military -discipline. On arriving at the guard-room, Sergeant Bludgeon 'phoned to -the local Fire Brigade. In a few words he explained his needs, and -requested that the great steam fire-engine should be rushed at once to -the head of the Mudtown road. There the firemaster was ordered to clear -for action and wait for orders. - -"That will do them, major," said Bludgeon with a sardonic grin, as he -replaced the 'phone and led his superior quietly by a circuitous route -to the scene of the coming action. The fire-engine was waiting behind a -great hedge. Three powerful nozzles lay ready for drenching deeds. -Quietly Bludgeon detailed his orders; the firemen gladly concurred. Just -as the final points had been explained there was heard a low mumbling of -voices and soft patter of feet. - -"The blighters have got their boots off," whispered Bludgeon. -"But--listen!" - -"We've fairly bate them this time," said the apparent leader. - -"Ay! Auld Bludgeon 'ill get a fricht in the mornin'." - -"Man, we'll hae a fine time. Thae weemin 'ill hae plenty o' hard stuff -an' shortbread." - -"If you get there!" muttered Fireworks under his breath, as he espied -the column of crawling and creeping revellers. - -"Ready?" whispered Bludgeon. - -"Yes," answered the firemaster. - -"Fire!" - -The three great nozzles sent forth gigantic waves of freezing water. The -leading men were knocked down and almost petrified with the amazing -deluge. Those behind were also drenched and chilled to the bone. - -"God! It's the Germans," said a silly youth, as he turned and fled. But -the harder cases cursed and charged up towards the foaming nozzles. The -firemaster simply increased the water-power and down they went like -ninepins, rolling and cursing in the most awful manner. Still, they were -all as game as bantams, and cunningly clambered up the banks to make a -flank attack. Here another surprise awaited them, for on reaching the -top they heard a voice yell out, "Rapid fire". Twenty rifles spat out -their lurid, flashing lights. The crash was terrific and terrified many. -They rolled and fell back into the foaming lane of water. - -"Are ye kill't?" one asked. - -"Na, that's only blank ammunition. Charge!" yelled the leader, leading -the way up the bank in an angry and determined style. Soaked as they -were, they meant to conquer. It was an awkward moment, and Bludgeon -thought that his great scheme was about to fail. Up over the bank came -the half-drenched army. But just as they got up to make a final -onslaught, Bludgeon rose from behind the hedge. He lifted his big stick -in the air, at the same time yelled, "Fix bayonets--charge!" - -"Heevens! It's Bludgeon. He'll kill us," yelled a timid soul. - -The name of Bludgeon--not the bayonets--was enough. All turned and fell, -or scrambled into the now surging stream of water and dashed for home. - -"That's one little lot settled," chirped the Napoleonic -provost-sergeant, as he listened to the yells of the fast retiring mob. -Turning to the firemaster, he thanked him for his services, and, -accompanied by Fireworks, made for the main billets of the regiment. But -if he had nobly killed the raid on the Mission Hall, he and the -sergeant-major had still to reckon with the devotees of Bacchus now -running riot in the great rooms in which they lived. This place, so -peaceful at "Lights out," was now alive with lights, laughter, and -singing. You see, the hour was twelve, and, in accordance with custom, -the Glesca Mileeshy were acting up to all traditions. - -"Expected that?" said Fireworks, pausing to listen to the awful din. - -"Yes," said Bludgeon, gripping his stick in a way that boded ill for the -revellers beyond. Through the great doors they quietly slipped, and, in -a flash, were inside the rooms of the men. What a sight! Five hundred -men, dressed something like Adam in the Garden of Eden, doing -cake-walks, Highland flings, and Irish jigs. Some also chirped the "Wee -Deoch-an-Doris," while others glibly sang-- - - "Oh, it's nice tae get up in the mornin', - But it's better tae lie in yer bed." - -In another room Bludgeon saw Tamson at the head of a procession of -worthies. Round his attenuated shanks was a tattered blanket, on his -head a dixey lid, in his right hand a mop, and in the other a bottle, -which, alas, was empty. His entourage was dressed in similar style. This -procession was accompanied by mouth-organs and melodeons, playing "The -Lament of Lochaber," which signified the general wail of the unpaid -habitués of the barrack-room. Round and round they went, knocking here -and there, and occasionally throwing a more peaceful soul out of his bed -and through the window to the green below. Next came a sword-dance by -Mickey Cameron, after that a fling by the general company, followed by -"The Floo'ers o' Edinburgh," and other well-known barn dances. The -entertainment was more pleasant than annoying. Indeed it was so orderly -that Bludgeon and Fireworks thought it better to leave them alone. But -in the midst of their revelry another company decided to pay a fraternal -call. They arrived beating a march on ration tins and old canteens. -Unfortunately, they decided to take charge of Tamson's party, and -generally boss the show. - -"Here," said Tamson, "this is oor pitch--clear!" - -"Awa' an' bile yer heid," replied a bulbous-nosed private, giving him a -push. - -"Wha are ye pushin'?" - -"You!" - -That was enough. Tamson hit out. His friends followed suit. In two -minutes the room was a bear-garden. Brooms, pokers, shovels, rifles, and -other hefty weapons were being wielded with cool indifference as to the -result. Blood, hair, and skin were flying like snowflakes. The lights -were smashed, and darkness reigned. Still the fight went on in the inky -night. It was serious, so Bludgeon set to with his stick and voice to -quell the awful din. This was useless. The fight had got beyond control. - -"It's hopeless, sergeant-major. We can't stop this Donnybrook." - -"Pretty bad, certainly, but it's got to be stopped." - -"Why not sound the alarm?" - -"Yes; the very thing," answered Fireworks, dashing out for a bugler. In -a few minutes the shrill call of the bugle pierced through the din. - -"It's the alarm," a voice yelled. - -"Yes--Fall-in!" shrieked Tamson. - -The din ceased, and the combatants fled to their rifles, packs, and -ammunition-pouches. By the aid of matches and candles they dressed, -flung on their equipment, grasped their rifles and dashed breathlessly -on to the parade-ground. In twenty minutes every man was present and -ready for action--a tribute to the discipline and zeal of the corps. - -"Well, sergeant-major--what's up?" asked the adjutant on arriving at the -muster-place. - -"A free fight, sir. Only way to quell it." - -"What's that?" interjected the colonel, who, at that moment, made his -bow. - -"A free fight--skin and hair all round. Had to sound the alarm, sir. -Only way--absolutely, sir----" - -"When did you sound it?" - -"Twenty minutes ago, sir." - -"Twenty minutes! That's good business!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Why were they fighting--too much beer?" - -"The want of it." - -"Well--I suppose some concession has to be made," he muttered, walking -to the head of the column. - -"Battalion--'Shun!" - -All sprang up like Guardsmen. - -"Look here, men, I don't mind you making a butcher's shop of a German's -face, but I object to your doing that with your own. They are not too -pretty at the best of times. If you make them worse you'll frighten -every woman in Mudtown. However, you have turned out remarkably quick. -And as you are not required on a Hun-hunting expedition, I propose--on -this special occasion--to march you all to the canteen and give you a -pint of beer. But, mark you, if I hear a word from you after you go to -bed again, I'll have the canteen closed for a month, and feed you on -salt herrings, just to tickle your thirst and teach you forbearance. -Understand?" - -"Yes, sir," roared a thousand voices. - -"Parade--dismiss." As each company went by they gave old Corkleg a smart -salute, and sang, "For he's a jolly good fellow." - -Bludgeon got a bottle of Scotch, a box of cigars, and a new blackthorn -cudgel, "for services rendered," as the colonel tersely put it, when -handing over the gifts. - -"Thank you, sir," said Bludgeon. - -"Welcome! Welcome! And when we all meet down below, Bludgeon, I'll have -you appointed provost-sergeant to Old Nick." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -WAR. - - -_The_ preceding chapters have given you the fun of the game, but do not -imagine the training of this corps was fun--and nothing more. The Glesca -Mileeshy spent many weary days and nights preparing for war. Every -weakness was found and ruthlessly eradicated. Every loafer and weed was -booted out. At the end of their training, one and all were as tough as -tinkers, and fit to shoot the tail of a sparrow at 500 yards. Better -still, every man was out to conquer and to kill. Colonel Corkleg was -proud of them, and he deserved to be, for, as old "Sunny Jim," the -G.O.C., had said, "They were the pride of the Mixed Division." Imagine -their bearing and think of their cheers on being ordered to move. Of -course, the Kirk-session of Mudtown made no protest about their -departure. The regiment mustered 1020 strong, and on their backs was -piled everything, from a shovel to a beer bottle. A thrill of pride ran -up the backbone of every officer as they viewed the throng, while old -Colonel Corkleg felt the strings of emotion pulling at his old heart. -Keen he was to fight and win; keen even to die at the cannon's mouth. -But he knew the cost of war, and realised that ere the game was done -many of his gallants would bite the dust, thus adding to the roll of the -widows and fatherless. However, duty was a stern call. He received the -adjutant's report of "All present" with the same stiff air which marked -his attitude on all parades. - -"Battalion--'Shun! Advance in fours from the right of companies--Number -one leading." - -"Quick march," ordered the leading commander. The band struck up "The -Girl I Left Behind Me," and with many a laugh and cheer the heroes -stepped to war. If you have never known this great experience you will -never understand. But a soldier knows it well. It is the greatest moment -in his life. His pride is dominant, his step jaunty and gay, and his -whole body permeated with an electric-like thrill peculiar to his kind. -And there is a look in a woman's eye which is a fine reward. Soldiers, -on such occasions, rouse all that is great in a woman's soul. She feels -she is gazing at men. She realises that such men guard her from the -brutalities of the Huns; she knows the children of her blood will not be -bayoneted like the babes of Liége and Namur. Deep in her heart there is -also sympathy and love, for women have a keen perception. Though she -never lives in the tented field, she fully understands the horrors of it -all. To one who has a lover in the van it is more trying still. Even the -poorest are capable of great devotion. To see the object of their -affection march to the field is a proud, yet a heart-gripping affair. If -many of these men were scallywags, they were delightful scallywags, if -one may use the term. And in their own way they could express that love -which is mightier than the sword. Words will, therefore, hardly depict -the sadness of parting. Thousands of fathers, mothers, and sweethearts -had gathered to see their heroes off. No rudeness; no mock hilarity was -seen. Even the men grew somewhat sad at leaving their all in all. As -they swung through the station in their sections of fours, women burst -into tears, some even swooned away. - -"God bless you, laddie!" said an old woman, falling on the neck of her -son. He kindly unlinked the withered arms and marched silently on. -Another woman seized her husband in the frenzy of grief and despair; -while many a young girl clutched the hand of her lover for the last time -on earth. Even the officers' wives could not restrain their feelings. -Caste and education could not stem the tears of sorrow for their own. -Beautiful women in beautiful clothes stood sobbing by the carriage -doors. Tearful partings were seen in the quiet corners of the great -station. Even Spud Tamson was curiously white and still as he stood by -the side of his own Mary Ann. - -"You'll no' forget me?" pleaded the distracted girl. - -"Na, Mary, I'll no' forget ye," was the soft reply. - -Then the great bell rang, after which a bugle sounded "Advance." A -rattle of carriage doors, a shriek of the engine's whistle, and off -steamed the great express. Some one led a strong Hurrah! and a band -played out a cheerful Good-bye. Handkerchiefs were waved and kind words -echoed far. Grief, for a moment, subsided, and patriotism sprang to its -heights. All gladly cheered their heroes off to war. - -When the regiment arrived at Southampton they marvelled at the -organisation of the Embarkation Staff. A place for everything and -everything in its place. System paramount; disorganisation cursed and -banned as soon as it reared its head. The clockwork precision was -amazing, and the catching of the tides as ingenious as the sardine -packing of troops on the great transport ships. Even a place was -reserved for "the tears of the Marys and Lizzies," as an unromantic -skipper remarked. In two days the Mixed Division was embarked. In five -days it was landed all complete. Of course, it caused a stir in gay -Boulogne. Twenty thousand husky Scots in kilts and breeks amused and -amazed the excitable folks of France. The ladies threw flowers to the -gay commanders; the maids cast kisses to the men. The Glesca Mileeshy, -however, got more than flowers and kisses, thanks to a very cute -Bandmaster, who made his bandsmen play "The Marseillaise" till their -cheeks almost burst. The regiment lilted the air in grand style, thus -earning many a good flagon of real red wine. - -Their first billets on the outskirts was also the scene of L'Entente -Cordiale. Gay little girls came out in scores to see their khaki gods. -Every billet had a swarm of unconventional flappers, who smoked the -Tommies' Woodbines with gusto, and donned their coats and caps, to the -amusement of the crowd. The Glesca Mileeshy had never seen such figures, -such lips, such eyes. Their women at home had not approached them with -such polished ease and frankness. These charming souls even put out -their lips to receive all the greetings that came their way. Naturally, -all were delighted, with the exception of the colonel and Sergeant -Bludgeon. - -"There's going to be trouble here, Bludgeon," remarked the colonel on -the second day. - -"Yes, sir, I expect anything from abduction to murder," answered the -sergeant, handling his great stick in a sinister way. For once Bludgeon -was wrong. When parades were done, the whole regiment swarmed into town, -and soon were in the toils of women and wine. Even the wizened and -bald-headed old veterans were rejuvenated. They sipped the champagne -with gusto, and danced the gay Can-can like the belles of the Russian -Ballet. Every café had its patrons. Tommies and "Frenchies" vied with -each other in "Tipperary," "A Wee Deoch-an-Doris," and other popular -airs. Never had the citizens seen such gay sports and fine soldiers. Yet -all played the game to a man--no riotous drunkenness, no absentees. If -all enjoyed themselves, they also remembered that they were at war, and -in a few days would be 'midst the horrors of the same. When they parted -there were many tears and lots of cheers, and, of course, all decided to -return again. Alas! they little reckoned on the grim days ahead. - -Their first job was burying the dead and clearing up the battlefields of -the weeks before. Parties went out to gather up the stiffened corpses of -all nations. In places, too, they found human bodies torn, shattered, -and disfigured. It was a gruesome job, still the apprenticeship was -sound. The more irresponsible at once realised the seriousness of the -game; the older men perceived that this was different to the wars they -had seen before. The dead occasionally found in heaps showed the cruel -power of the modern shell; the great craters made in the ground also -illustrated the disastrous impact of those huge missiles from the German -guns. Blood-stained accoutrements, broken guns and rifles, dead and -wounded horses, trenches which had become cemeteries, dug-outs -transformed into catacombs, revealed what they were up against. It was -the science of fifty years exploited by the most cruel, clever, and -cunning disciples of Mars. And all the while there passed through their -ranks the motor transport with loads of wounded and dying men. -Prisoners, too, came in batches. Great strong men they were, some -stricken with hunger and cruel hardships, others dumb with the sense of -humiliation and despair. Over their heads the regiment frequently noted -the airships of their own army and the enemy. A bomb occasionally fell -in their ranks, forming a useful introduction to the game beyond. It -taught them how to run, how to take cover, and how to hit the -petrol-tank of such impudent offenders. They also acquired at first hand -a knowledge of our Allied arms. Little Belgians, they realised, were -poor at the pomp and flashwork of war, but sound at the game of killing -and holding men. The French, they saw, had all the _élan_ of their -fathers, but less of their stomach and nerve. They needed victories to -inspire them, and the sight of the khaki troops to remind them that war -is only for the patient and the strong. These early days created a sense -of comradeship with their Allies. The ever-generous heart of the French -and Belgians inspired a mutual feeling of love and respect. This, they -all felt, would hold them in the days to come. - -Having served this apprenticeship, and learned that the men who wore red -breeks were French, and those with porter's bonnets Belgians, they -marched forward into the great battle-line in Flanders. What -devastation! What ruthless savagery! Churches, hospitals, cottages, in -ruins. Women and children homeless and fatherless, and cursing the -barbarous Huns. And still more processions of prisoners, wounded and -dying. Death on all sides, blood everywhere. Horror upon horror, allied -with hardship, pain, and sorrow. Tough as this regiment was, the sights -saddened and made them wise. This was war. And they were plunged into -the midst of all in less than a day. It was their job to relieve a -regiment of regulars, who had been fighting since Mons. This corps was -stuck in trenches a hundred yards from the enemy's lines. Snipers had -thinned the officers' ranks; repeated assaults had killed and worn out -the N.C.O.'s and men. To relieve them was a problem, for the area behind -their trenches was a shell-swept zone. But it had to be done. The safest -time was at night, so when dusk had come they cautiously went forward. -Sometimes they ran, at other points they had to creep and crawl. For a -while all seemed well, but aerial scouts had told their tale. Just as -the regiment reached the trenches, all were startled with the lurid -flashing of great star-shells in the sky. This lit up the whole area and -showed the lines of men advancing into the trenches. - -Crack! went a Mauser rifle. This was a signal for hundreds more. More -star-shells went up, and then the Maxim guns of the enemy opened a -deadly fire. - -"Double to the trenches!" roared a staff officer, who was the guide. In -a few minutes the whole were jumping into the long water-logged -fortresses. Many were left behind wounded and dying, but the danger -ahead was too great to study these casualties. Volley after volley came -across the narrow zone. The hits were now few, for sighting was -impossible. To the crouching men, who had just been baptised, the affair -was somewhat awe-inspiring. Many a man shivered, just as nearly all -brave men shiver in their first fight. The moans of the wounded men who -lay behind did not help matters. Worse, however, was yet to come. The -Germans, somehow, feared a night attack. Determined to check this, they -sallied out on a counter-assault. Across the hundred-yard zone they ran, -cursed, yelled, and stumbled. It was an anxious moment, for the -star-shells only lit the ground in a dim way. Colonel Corkleg, however, -was equal to the hour. - -"Out men and at them!" he roared from a point somewhere in the darkened -region. There was a loud clatter as his gallants leapt out of their -trenches. A second to fix their bayonets, then passing through the -little avenues in the barbed wire they quickly formed and charged. - -"Give them Hell, lads!" roared Coronet. And then there was a crash of -bodies and of steel. The sickening plug of bayonets into flesh was heard -all along the line. Still, these Bavarian men were game. They took their -punishment and nobly tried to wrest the laurels of this night affair. -But they were up against the toughest lot of men in the whole line. The -impact was terrific, the onslaught fierce and frightful. They felt the -backward push of those determined Militiamen. Their counter-assault was -useless, so, with a yell, they turned and fled. The victors pursued -them, routed them out of their own trenches, captured two Maxim guns and -smashed them, and after denuding the knapsacks of their fleeing enemy, -returned across the darkened zone into their own lines. - -"Well done, colonel," whispered the staff officer to Corkleg. "Your men -are the right stuff," he concluded, as he disappeared into the night _en -route_ for headquarters of the Brigade. - -Next morning the regiment counted the cost and the gains. In front of -their own lines lay a hundred Germans dead; side by side lay fifty of -their own; while in the rear of the trenches more dead were found. - -"Not bad for a first night," said Greens, peeping out. - -"Hardly a comedy," replied Coronet, bandaging up a wounded hand. - -"No, melodrama, with full effects. Corkleg's a sound actor manager. But, -I say, how can we get those dead men buried? They'll soon smell like -polecats." - -"Not during the day. It isn't safe," remarked the captain, putting his -cap up out of the trench on top of a stick. Crack! went a bullet. - -"A bull!" shouted the owner, drawing it down and surveying a battered -cap badge. - -"Sniper, eh?" - -"Yes, Greens, a top-hole one at that. We'll need to be careful." The -men, however, enjoyed the sport. Spud Tamson and his friends delighted -in putting up empty jam-tins on the end of sticks. In a second there was -the usual crack, and down came the tin with a bullet-hole through it. -When an unfortunate sentry popped his head up too far, he generally met -the same fate, and was immediately struck off the strength of the -regiment. In some cases the men signalled such hits by putting up a -white piece of cardboard, meaning a bull's-eye to the sniper. These -German snipers were also sportsmen. Each time a Tommy inoculated the -square head of a Teuton with a dose of lead, they also signalled a hit. -In this way the troops managed to keep a musketry record. Of course, all -sorts of tricks were employed. One section placed a row of turnips with -Balaclava hats and Glengarrys on them at the edge of the trench. At once -there was a terrible fusilade, and for half an hour each sniper had a -go. Indeed, the refusal of these turnips to become casualties so annoyed -the opposing Germans that they all commenced to pop at them. While their -whole attention was thus concentrated, a small body of marksmen under -Lieutenant Greens suddenly popped out of a sap-head. They placed steel -plates for protection in front of them. All then took a deliberate aim -at the enemy. In three minutes they shot twelve men through the head, -and would have got more but for the sudden attack of a Maxim gun. This -was rather unpleasant, so Greens and his merry men flopped down into -their burrow again. - -There were three kinds of trenches in which the men were placed. The -first line nearest the enemy was long and as deep as the holes in a -graveyard. No head-cover was allowed, and luxuries were barred. For -forty-eight hours all danced, cursed, snored, or shivered according to -the thermometer and the fulness (or emptiness) of the stomach. When one -grew tired of being a mole and absorbing the germs of rheumatism, -pneumonia, and enteric, he simply put up his head and got a free -discharge from an obliging sniper. - -A communicating trench led to the supporting trenches. There was also a -telephone to inform the Brigadier when the first line had been sent to -heaven and more living targets required. Trunk calls to Oxford Street -and Piccadilly, of course, were barred--an annoying restriction. In -these supporting trenches, however, a man could manage to scrape a hole -in the earth and there lie down. This was not exactly a comfortable -experience, especially for those who slept with mouths open. Worms, -snails, and other messy slugs would persist in dropping right into the -gullets of the sleeping innocents. Only Frenchmen who had eaten frogs -could enjoy such delicacies. - -From the supporting trenches another communicating line led to the -reserve trenches. These trenches were the last word in cunning, comfort, -and luxury. They were literally dug-outs or caves, where officers and -men improvised everything, from biscuit tins to toilet paper, in the -making of underground homes to while away the weary days. Bridge and nap -was played--not for money, but full tins of jam, which a beneficent -commissariat showers upon all British soldiers to keep off scurvy and -other Whitechapel diseases. Nights were made merry by liberal issues of -rum, and hope was inspired by the regular arrival of love epistles -through the F.P.O. Replies to these communications had to be vague and -somewhat guarded, for the colonel censored all officers' letters, while -the officers acted similarly with the correspondence of the rank and -file. Parcels of tucker cheered the somewhat plain fare, and bundles of -New Testaments from anxious maiden ladies taught many that their former -deeds would eventually make them stokers down under. When things became -too monotonous, the German artillery plunked a few Jack Johnsons over. -This employed all hands on burial services and writing letters of -sympathy to the widows and orphans. - -The most wonderful person in this system was the transport officer, -Lieutenant Grain. He had an army of enlisted ostlers, carters, and -jockeys to bring up the rations from the rear. This had to be done over -quagmires and along serpent-like roads which were packed with -Hammersmith omnibuses, field guns, motor-cars, and hare-brained motor -cyclists. Worse, his job had to be done at night. It was enough to try -the will and nerves of Hannibal. But Grain did it every time. It was his -boast that the regiment had fresh bread, fresh meat, cigarettes and -tobacco every night--a great accomplishment. Fancy delivering cans of -hot tea and dixeys of good stew to the front trenches at midnight! This -had never been done in any previous campaign. No wonder some men wrote -home saying that they were "still well, but overfed." - -This life in the trenches levelled all distinctions, and revealed all -that was good and bad. The skunk came forth in all his shady colours; -the loyal and patient soul quickly won the affection of all. Discipline -was difficult, especially when rain and frost gripped the flesh and -bones. Cold feet in the first line of trenches is more demoralising than -a thousand shells. Men object to being killed on a frosty morning. It is -very uncomfortable, and certainly unromantic. They feel it better to die -on the greensward with the sun lighting up the scene and the birds -twittering out a grand amen. But war is never waged to suit the -convenience of all. It is a battle for the fittest. The strong must -survive and the weakest die. And war in the trenches is the most awful -strain on officers and men. Perhaps it is worst for an officer. He -suffers just the same hardships; worse, he has the anxiety of -responsibility. Men seldom understand this. While they may sleep the -officer has to be awake, ever watchful for the assault and ever jealous -of the honour of his regiment and his name. Only men who have been -thoroughly disciplined can stand such a strain. The amateur at this game -is usually a nuisance, and better at home. - -The disadvantage of trench-fighting is that it robs even the best -soldiers of their dash and initiative. Men who have been stuck in -trenches for months get out of condition, and, at times, fail to seize -opportunities to strengthen and consolidate their lines. Perhaps that -was the reason for the deliberate progression of the Allied Army. Each -week a certain forward movement had to be done, even if this only -amounted to a few yards. Saps were made underneath the enemy's barbed -wire, explosions levelled these obstructions low, then with a rush our -men would have a go to capture another of the German trenches. This work -provided scope for all. Variety was frequently afforded in village -fighting--the toughest job in war. The most interesting was a fight for -a little house which commanded a short bridge and road over a Belgian -canal. It was important to gain this point. Half a battalion of the -Glesca Mileeshy, under Major Tartan, was ordered out to the job. The -house itself was loopholed and sandbagged. There were two machine guns -inside as well as fifty snipers. Outside there was a circular redoubt, -manned by three hundred more. The whole place was thoroughly protected -by barbed wire and other tricky lures. - -"It will cost us a lot of men, major," said Colonel Corkleg; "but the -Brigadier says it must be done." - -"Yes, and we'll do it, sir," replied Tartan, with a decision in his -words which was inspiring. - -"Very well, Tartan, I leave it to you--you know your job." - -Tartan's attack was preceded by a terrific bombardment by our artillery. -But these shells did not dislodge the enemy. They stuck gamely to their -job, and opened a fierce fusilade on the three skirmishing lines, which -moved forward after the bombardment. - -Captain Hardup had the first line. He took his men forward inch by inch. -Trees, walls, holes, fence-posts, all sorts of cover were used by the -men. Now and again a groan and curse was heard as men fell back wounded -or dead. - -"Come on, lads!" roared Lieutenant Longlegs, who was Hardup's subaltern. -They gallantly replied and pushed forward to within one hundred yards of -the barbed wire entanglements. Matters were serious here, and casualties -heavy. Ten men were knocked out in twenty minutes. - -"Sergeant Brown, have a go with your cutters." - -"Right, sir," said the sturdy little fellow, crawling forward. He -wriggled like a snake right up to the wires. Click! went his cutters -through one strand, click! through another, and up went his arm to get a -strand higher up. All the while he was under a terrible fire. Just as he -cut the third strand a bullet struck his arm. It fell limp and -shattered. With wonderful fortitude he adjusted his body and cut the -fourth strand with his other hand. Zip! sang a bullet again. It went -right through his head. He rolled over dead. - -Lieutenant Longlegs saw it all, and looked round for another man. But he -had no need to shout. A young lance-corporal jumped over a wall and -crawled up to the wires. Seizing the dead man's cutters he coolly -commenced to cut right and left. Bullets whizzed around,--they even -passed through his cap and clothes,--but still he went on, making a -great gap in the strands of wires. He was succeeding splendidly when a -bullet struck the wire-cutters, smashed them, and pierced his right -hand. At once he lay low, tore out his field dressing, bandaged his -hand, then commenced to crawl back to his lines. He got half-way when a -bullet struck him in the spine. A weird yell told all of his fate. - -"By God," muttered Longlegs, "that's too brave a lad to leave out -there." He jumped over the wall, and, heedless of the fire, ran forward, -picked up his man and brought him into the shelter of his line. A great -cheer went up as he returned. Longlegs had asserted his pluck. - -This success at cutting the wires inspired many more to go forward. In -three hours five good gaps had been made, and the way paved for a final -assault. Meantime Major Tartan had arrived in the firing line with the -reserves. He opened a fierce fusilade and accounted for almost a hundred -of the enemy. Having done all that was possible at that point he passed -the word along, "Prepare to charge." Bayonets were fixed, and every eye -centred on the tough figure of the old Highland Chief. Like a deer he -rose, and, raising his arm, shouted, "Up, lads, and at them." What a -din! Four hundred gallants running, yelling, cursing, and panting. -Through the gaps in the wire they rushed, leaving many on the way. -Things were going well till a bullet struck the old major in a vital -part. He fell mortally wounded. The sight checked the whole advance. His -eyes saw the pause. - -"Go on, men--give them it--never mind----" and he rolled back dead. -Hardup and Longlegs now called them on. With a mighty rush they scaled -the great redoubt and leapt down into the ranks of the Germans. Some of -the Teutons fought gamely; others cowered back, listless and powerless, -an awful fear and awe in their eyes. The sight chilled the men, but a -bloodthirsty old sergeant shouted, "Remember the Belgian atrocities, -boys." That was enough. They bayoneted every man on the spot. During -this bloody combat the machine guns and snipers in the house were -pumping out volleys of death. - -"Take the house now, men," roared Hardup. - -"By God, we'll soon do that," answered Muldoon, the worst character in -the regiment. Running forward to the walls this powerful man got near -the mouth of a Maxim gun projecting through the wall. With a terrible -swipe he smashed the end of the tube, breaking his butt at the job. -Another man did the same for the other gun, while the remainder of the -men made for the doors. A check happened here. The doors were barred and -the enemy firing furiously from within. - -"Smash it in," ordered Hardup, standing near. Three men sprang forward. -First they smashed the protruding rifle barrels and then they tackled -the doors. In ten minutes great holes were made. Captain Hardup was the -first man through. Longlegs followed at his heels. The captain pinned a -great big German with his bayonet, but another of the enemy stuck the -gallant officer right through the chest. Longlegs had just got in when -he saw his captain fall. Jumping forward he clubbed the man's brains -out. The remaining Germans cleared up a stair to the next floor. This -gave a breathing space and time to get more men through. When enough had -been collected Longlegs led the way. Another barred door was found. -Willing hands quickly ended this, and into a room Longlegs and his men -dashed. The enemy stood at the end of the room with bayonets fixed. - -"Come on, lads--wipe them out." Forward they went. There was a terrific -tussle for five minutes. Longlegs had the muscle of his arm torn away -with a bayonet, while three of his men were killed on the spot; but -every German was bayoneted to death. Longlegs had his arm hastily -bandaged. "Come on," he shouted again, and up to the top flat they -rushed to end their job. There they found a German officer and a host of -men inside a loft. The door of the place was also barred. But this was -easily smashed, and into the den the gallants rushed. As they went an -old sergeant pushed Longlegs back out of danger. - -"What's wrong?" he inquired angrily. - -"I'm in charge o' this lot, sir. You're owre braw a fechter tae get -kill't." - -"Nonsense, sergeant." - -"Nae nonsense aboot it, sir. Staund there," kindly insisted the old -non-com., who saw that Longlegs would soon faint from loss of blood. -Meantime the din inside the room was deafening. Squeals, groans, and -curses rent the air. It was a battle to the death. The officer fought -like a Trojan for his life, but, in the end, he was bayoneted to death. -Half of the enemy were killed, the other half surrendered or jumped -through the windows, smashing their legs on the hard stones below. - -"We've won, sir," reported the sergeant, rushing out of the shambles to -where the pale-faced officer was standing at the top of the stair. - -"Good!" said the subaltern, tumbling in a heap from loss of blood. At -that moment a thundering cheer was heard outside the house. It was the -colonel and the other half of the battalion, who had been sent up in -support. The job, however, had been well done. Old Corkleg was met at -the door by the faithful sergeant. - -"We've done it, sir," said he, saluting. - -"Yes," said the colonel gravely, as he looked at his dead and wounded -men. Then looking up, he remarked, "Where is Major Tartan?" - -"Killed, sir." - -"And Captain Hardup?" - -"Inside, sir, badly wounded." - -"What about Mr. Longlegs?" - -"He's lying upstairs wounded too." - -"Any other casualties?" - -"Two other officers wounded, sir, and I think we've lost over a hundred -men." - -"Sad--very sad, and some of the best," said the old colonel, turning -away to hide the moisture in his eyes. - -"Well done, Corkleg," said the Brigadier, walking up to the scene. - -"Yes. Our men have done well, but our casualties have been awful." - -"Still, Corkleg, your men have captured the key to the whole German -lines here. They will have to retire for almost a mile now. Good -business! Good business! Terrible scamps, these men of yours, but heroes -every time. Let me have any recommendations." - -Hardup and Longlegs got the D.S.O., the old sergeant and wire-cutting -corporal received the Distinguished Conduct Medals, while every paper in -Britain wrote columns about the gallantry of the Glesca Mileeshy. - -"Useful men! Useful men!" said Corkleg, on reading the appreciation in -'The Times' a few days later. - -"Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -THE POWER OF BREAD. - - -_Roadways_ are the mainsprings of an army. They are more precious than -jewels. When captured they have to be jealously guarded. For this -purpose the drill-book says you must have examination posts. These posts -are simply clearing-houses for the liars and laggards of war. It is an -important job, and usually given to important men. As the Glesca -Mileeshy were the most important gentlemen in the Mixed Division, it -fell to them to guard the main highway which led through their lines -right into the heart of General Von Burstem's camp. Captain Coronet's -company, on this occasion, supplied the guard, consisting of Sergeant -Killem, Privates Tamson, Muldoon, and Cameron. This observant detachment -was posted in a little hut at the cross-roads. The point commanded -communication and regulated the flow of spies, patrols, and supplies. -Every waggon, motor, officer, and man had to be halted, examined, and -passed by the man on sentry-go. The job suited the temperament of Spud -Tamson, for he had all the craving for novelty and sensation. He -swaggered up and down the beaten path with the air of a new-born -subaltern. Nothing escaped him, and as night came he grew still more -alert. - -"Halt--who goes there?" he challenged out. - -"A Gordon!" was the reply. - -"Pass, Gordon--all's well." - -"Halt--who goes there?" he shouted again. - -"Black Watch Picket." - -"Pass, Black Watch--all's well." - -"Halt--who goes there?" went his challenge once more. - -"Wot the 'ell's it got to do with you?" piped some one in the dark. - -"Pass, Canadian--all's well," was the apt retort, which in itself -reflects the unruly but otherwise splendid man from the Golden West. - -For a time there was silence, during which Tamson puffed the smoke out -of his dirty old cutty-pipe. Between puffs he mused on the mud and -hunger of war, and occasionally switched his fancy back to where his own -Mary Ann would be sitting in anxious dread. During this sort of -meandering he was roused by the flashing lights of a powerful motor-car. -On it came, right up to the barbed wire gate which Spud was guarding. -Gripping his rifle in no uncertain fashion, he came down to the charge -and bellowed out, "Halt--who goes there?" - -"Staff officer, you fool--open the gate," said a muffled voice from the -front of the car. - -"Step oot and gie the countersign," ordered Spud. - -"---- you--open the gate. I'll report you to your colonel." - -"Report yer granny--gae me the countersign," persisted Spud, his whole -cunning roused by the well-muffled face of this staff officer. - -The officer jumped from the car. As he did so the alert sentry noted his -hand behind his back. Something was wrong. - -"Stand and gie the countersign." - -The officer whipped the hidden hand round. A revolver banged in the -stilly air. The aim, however, had been turned by a cunning parry, -followed by a dexterous thrust by the nimble Spud. He had pinned his -aggressor right through the breast. The man fell with a groan. As he -tumbled, Sergeant Killem and the guard dashed out. One glance, and the -sergeant staggered a little. "God! Tamson--it's a staff officer. You've -kill't him." - -"A spy, ye mean," said the cool sentry, putting his foot on the dying -man's chest, and with a jerk withdrawing his bayonet. - -"A spy!" - -"Ay--see the revolver! He tried tae shoot me." - -"That's queer, man," ejaculated Sergeant Killem, bending down. Lifting -the red-banded cap off the wounded man's head and unwinding the muffler, -he was startled to see a face clearly German, with the usual student -scar. Opening a British warm jacket, the sergeant also found a -close-fitting tunic worn by the German officers. - -"You're richt, Tamson. By Heaven! he's got a cheek," muttered Killem, as -he extracted a large six-inch map, a note-book, a woman's photo, and -other things from the dying man's pocket. When this search had been -completed they lifted the almost dead German into the guardroom. Spud -now tore out his own field dressing and tried to stanch the mortal -wound, while the sergeant rang the telephone bell in the Divisional -Headquarters. - -"Well?" replied an aide-de-camp. - -"I'm the sergint on the examination post. A sentry has jist shot a spy -in a motor-caur. He's dying in the hut." - -"Let him die," was the blunt reply. "And I say, sergeant?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Search the man and his car. Keep everything till the Intelligence -Officer arrives." - -"Very good, sir," said Sergeant Killem, hanging up the 'phone. A further -search revealed many things. Papers showed the amazing daring and skill -of this spy. The strength, guns, morale, and distribution of the Allied -Arms was almost perfect. In the garb of a staff officer he had been -everywhere--an easy thing when one remembers the mighty salaams and -reverential awe which the "Brass Hats" receive from the respectful Tommy -Atkins. - -"This is his last trip, onywiy," said the sergeant, casually picking up -the woman's photo which the spy had carried in his pocket. Spud came -forward to view it. - -"That's an actress," remarked Tamson. - -"Ay. English at that." - -"It's the Principal Boy in that big London panto," exclaimed Spud, who -knew the name of every actress, boxer, and racehorse. - -"Man, you're richt; but listen----" - -"A motor-caur! That'll be the officer," said Spud. - -A few minutes afterwards the car stopped at the door, and a major of the -Intelligence Staff came in. - -"Here he is, sir," said the sergeant, showing him the wounded German in -the corner of the hut. - -"Good Lord! it's Von Darem!" muttered the startled officer. - -"Wha, sir?" inquired Killem. - -"Oh, the late Military Attaché in London," was the off-hand reply of the -officer. - -"Here's his papers." - -"Thanks," said the major, walking to the lamp. Opening out the -note-book, he quickly read the contents. He was as fascinated as he was -surprised. - -"Well, sergeant, this _is_ a good night's work. Who caught him?" - -"Me, sir," chirped Spud, clicking his heels and giving a smart salute. - -"You know your job. I'll see the General about you. You ought to be a -sergeant. Good-night all." - -"Good-night, sir." - -Next morning Private Spud Tamson had a paragraph of praise in Divisional -Orders, and at night the colonel of the Glesca Mileeshy informed him -that he was pleased to promote him to sergeant. The examining guard had -brought Spud Tamson fame. A few days later the newly-promoted sergeant -was also given the job of taking out a standing night patrol towards the -enemy's lines. For this purpose he was allowed to select his men. -Muldoon and Micky Cameron were, of course, in the band. It was a -dangerous job, yet Spud was not alarmed. It suited his nature and -whetted his ardour for the all-precious D.C.M. - -'The Field Training Manual' has it that patrols are primarily intended -for reconnaissance, not fighting,--in other words, to see without being -seen. Spud remembered this. He was also aware that the German -commissariat was badly managed. Perhaps that accounted for his stuffing -of bread and meat into the haversacks of his party. The men were also -ordered to keep their tongues and rifles from barking, and when the -enemy was spotted--to lie down. Having duly impressed his little band -with these instructions, he gave the order to march. Away they went, -Spud at the head. Like cats, they stalked on the metalled roadway for -almost a mile. - -"Halt!" whispered Spud on nearing a long line of trees which he knew -were occupied by the outposts of the enemy. Then all lay down. For a -time they could see nothing in the darkness, but gradually their eyes -grew accustomed to things. A crunching of feet told its own tale of -sentry-go, and a few minutes later the patrol discerned two men at the -edge of the wood. - -"Micky, you come wi' me," said Spud to his old friend Cameron. "You -others stiy here. If you think we're gettin' done in, come owre an' len' -a haund. But mind, nae shootin'--the bayonet, every time." - -"Right ho, Spud," was the willing response as the sergeant and Micky -crawled away on their hands and knees. For twenty minutes they wriggled -like snakes. Luck and the shadows favoured them. They finished up fifty -yards from the German sentries. - -"Here, Spud," whispered Micky, "this is sudden daith for us." - -"Are ye feart, ye puddin heid." - -"Na, I'm no' feart, but are we no' daft?" - -"Blethers! Noo, look here, Micky, get yer haversack haundy, an' mind the -breid." - -"What's that for?" - -"Catchin' them." - -"Catchin' them?" queried Micky. - -"Ay, jist like catchin' canaries. But, listen, when thae chaps turn -their backs, mak' a jump for it. Nae killin', though. Haunds up, and -then gie them a lump o' breid." - -"Breid?" - -"Dae whit yer tell't. I'm fed up wi' yer questions. If yer feart, awa' -hame." This sharp retort ended Micky's fears. For the next ten minutes -they lay watching their prey. Then came their chance. The two sentries -met and turned their backs to have a chat. With a light bounding step, -Spud and Micky reached their men. The startled sentries turned and then -jumped for their rifles, which were leaning against a tree. Too late, -though. A glistening bayonet and a low command, "Haunds up," ended their -service in the German Army. Both held their hands up in terror, -expecting a sudden despatch to the heavenly land, at the same time -tearfully muttering, "Don't hurt me--Don't hurt me," for, like nearly -all Germans, they spoke English well. - -"Here," said Spud to his man, handing a lump of bread and a sausage. The -man grabbed it like a hungry wolf. His comrade did the same with Micky's -peace-offering. This bait reduced them to a state of friendliness and -civility. Indeed, the attitude of Spud and Micky amazed them. They had -been told that the British Army were murderers and barbarians. When they -had finished their simple repast, Spud casually inquired-- - -"Whaur's yer picket?" - -"Back there," said one, pointing to the end of the wood. - -"Hoo strong?" - -"About a hundred." - -"Any Maxims?" - -"Two." - -"Whaur are they?" - -"At that end," said the German, showing Spud a sort of earthwork at -their end of the wood, about six hundred yards away. - -"Many men there?" - -"Plenty." - -"All right, come wi' me." - -The Germans hesitated. - -"Step oot," said Spud, fingering his trigger in a determined way. - -"Well, don't kill us." - -"Na, we'll no' kill ye. But mind, keep quiet as ye go," he ordered, -pushing his prisoners ahead. The victors followed, carrying the rifles -of the enemy. But they were not to get off scot-free. The clumsy Germans -made a fearful din, rousing their compatriots some distance away. This -and the rising moon told the now vigilant Teutons that something was -wrong. A searchlight was flashed across the danger zone. Spud and his -men were spotted. - -"Double," he roared, giving the Germans a prick with his bayonet, but -the crash of rifles and then the patter of feet told the daring sergeant -that he was pursued. - -Zip! went a bullet past his ear. Zip! went another, striking Micky in -the leg and smashing a bone. He tumbled with a groan. - -"Here, you German waiters--lift him," ordered Spud. The prisoners -hesitated, but the stern look in the sergeant's face, as well as the -danger of death from the rifles of their own friends, made them grab the -wounded man and carry him on. A five minutes' run brought them to the -spot where Spud's reserves were handy. - -"Halt!" challenged Muldoon, jumping out of a hole. - -"It's me, Pat--haud on here. Stop these scallywags that's chasing us up. -Gie them a dose o' Rapid. They'll think they're up against a hunner -men." - -"Roight, sargint," replied Muldoon, assuming command of the reserves. - -Spud with his unwilling bearers ran on, glad to be out of the danger -zone. A few minutes afterwards, the German patrol, which had followed -them, came panting and stumbling towards Muldoon's little army. - -Z-r-r-p! crashed a volley. Cries of amazement and shrieks of pain rent -the air. - -Z-r-r-p! rattled another, and still another. The enemy fled in disorder -towards their startled friends. Muldoon sent more volleys into the -retreating host, and then retired about a hundred yards. Crash went his -rifles again. The Germans were thoroughly checked and their whole line -surprised. - -"Back, bhoys, for the love of Saint Patrick," ordered Muldoon, leading -his three men at a trot down the long winding road. They quickly pulled -up on Spud and his burdened prisoners, and in half an hour were marching -in triumph through their own lines. - -"Two prisoners, sir," said Spud, jumping into Colonel Corkleg's dug-out. - -"Oh! How did you get them, Tamson?" - -"Wi' a bit o' breid, sir." - -"Bread!" - -"Ay, sir. Ye could catch a regiment wi' a twa-pun' loaf." - -"Well, that's the limit. Where did you learn that?" - -"The Gallowgate, sir." - -"Ah! Tell me how you did it." - -Spud quickly told of his adventure, and also imparted the useful -information he had received. - -"That's good, sergeant. Do you think we could capture the redoubt and -the guns?" - -"Ay, sir--easy." - -"How?" - -"A night attack, sir." - -"Sound, very sound, sergeant. I'll put your captain on to it. Thank you, -Tamson." - -Spud saluted and jumped out. His company gave him a warm welcome on -entering their dug-outs; indeed, Captain Coronet called him in for a tot -of service rum. After this warm beverage had been devoured, Spud -elaborated his own ideas about the capturing of the enemy's Maxims. The -captain listened attentively and then dismissed him to have a rest -preparatory to the projected assault. - -The night affair was arranged by the colonel during the day. Captain -Coronet was to make the attack, supported by another company. The whole -thing was to be led by the now famous sergeant. It was a daring -adventure; but if successful it was worth the risk. Machine guns are -annoying at all times. These would be better out of the way. The -position, too, was desirable. Its capture would allow the Mixed Division -an opportunity to clear the wood of objectionable snipers. - -At dusk Coronet and his men sallied out. Spud headed the column, and -from front to rear all were guided by a great, long rope held by each -man so as to ensure direction and avoid straggling. At first they -marched, but on nearing the enemy's line all fell on their knees and -commenced to crawl. This was continued for half an hour, when a -whispered "Halt!" made them lie low. - -"It's owre there, sir," said Spud, pointing in the direction of the -redoubt. - -"Not much to be seen, Tamson," remarked the captain, placing his monocle -in his eye. - -"Listen, sir." - -Both lay still, and eventually analysed the many sounds. Some men were -coughing, others appeared to be singing, while here and there "All's -well" rang out in German. During this wait for the light of dawn the -company was surprised by the tramp of a small patrol. On they came -straight towards Coronet's men. It was an anxious moment for all. To -fire would have been madness, revealing the whole plan. The captain held -his breath, uncertain how to act. It was one of those awkward incidents -for which no remedy can be found in infantry training, new or revised. -Captain Coronet could handle a division in a war game and win many a -brilliant battle on regimental staff rides, but this situation was -beyond him, and like a simple British gentleman he whipped out his -sword. - -"Na, sir, no' that," whispered Tamson. The flush which suffused -Coronet's cheek could not be seen in the dark. Spud Tamson had presumed -to override the officer class. For a second the captain almost lost his -temper. Another second's reflection, however, told him that this -sergeant from the slums was right. - -"Let them come right up, sir, then grab their legs, drap them, and choke -them." - -"Very sound--tell the men what's on," commanded the captain, well -pleased to have found a solution to the problem. A few more minutes -brought three figures within view of the attackers' eyes. They tramped -and stumbled forward right into the waiting men. The captain, Tamson, -and Sergeant Killem grabbed the legs of the Germans, and with a jerk -heaved the surprised men to the ground. Only one shout was heard, for, -like a flash, strong hands pounced on to their throats. A spluttering -and low choking broke the stillness of the night. - -"Don't kill them--tie them up," whispered the commander. Some mufflers -were quickly produced, and with the aid of rifle-slings, rope, and spare -equipment straps, the German patrol was bound and gagged. - -"I wonder if they heard that beggar shout?" whispered the captain. - -"Na, sir. Ye wid hae soon heard the bullets if they had." - -"I'm glad--it's getting light," said the captain, looking up to the sky. - -"Ay, sir,--yonder's the gun pits," said Tamson, pointing to a redoubt -about two hundred and fifty yards away. - -"Pretty tough job, Tamson," mused the captain, studying closely the -flanking trenches and some objectionable barbed wire. - -"The barbed wire's no' very high, sir." - -"High enough for trouble." - -"If they tak' aff their coats an' fling them owre the wire it'll no hurt -them sae much." - -"Good idea,--tell them to carry their coats in their hands, and get -ready." - -Tamson turned and whispered the order. In a few minutes the whole -company was eager for the fray. - -"Prepare to charge," whispered the captain, putting his monocle into his -eye. Leaving his sword on the ground he picked up one of the German -rifles and jumped to his feet. The company followed suit, and with a -thundering cheer charged forward towards the German lines. - -A sentry outside the barbed wire dropped his rifle and ran towards a -little gateway in the entanglements. Unhooking some loose strands he -dashed through, followed by Coronet, who pinned him with his bayonet in -the back. About twenty more squeezed through this gap. The remainder -flung their coats across the wires and floundered over into the German -trenches. Then the butchery began. Half-sleeping Germans found -themselves face to face with cursing, yelling scions of the Glesca -Mileeshy. These old toughs from the "Model" plugged, stabbed, jabbed, -hacked, and butted the life out of the defenders in the flanking -trenches. Those who tried to escape by jumping out were clubbed to -death. Coronet and Spud were everywhere, and, like others, quickly -covered themselves with German blood. Things went well till a Maxim gun -started its nonsense. A clever gunner opened a traversing fire on the -daring band. - -"Lie down, men," roared Coronet. They obeyed, but not before twenty men -had been killed or wounded. It was an anxious moment for the company -commander. The check was serious, and, like a true British officer, he -looked round for his sergeant. He saw Tamson at the far end of a trench -coolly aiming at the German gunner. - -Bang! went Spud's rifle. He missed. Muttering an oath, he quickly fired -again. The man dropped back dead. Another sprang to his seat, but before -he could touch the handles Spud despatched him to the Happy Land. This -was good, but not altogether useful, for a host of Germans were sallying -out of their dug-outs and rushing to avenge their dead. - -"Rapid fire!" roared the captain. - -Click! click! went the bolts, and next a fearful crash, but our musketry -cannot always stem a wild German rush. Remembering he had a company in -support, Coronet signalled them up. Recollecting, too, that he had read -somewhere in Haking's text-book on company training that an assault -should be met by a counter-assault, he ordered his men to charge. - -"I'll see tae the guns, sir," shouted Spud to his captain above the din. - -"Right, sergeant," answered Coronet, looking back. - -"This way for the Gallowgate, lads," was Tamson's order to a few of his -cronies. They followed at his heels, and dashed towards the first gun. A -young German officer met Tamson with his sword. The Teuton made a -furious swipe at his red-coloured head. - -"Missed it, young fellow me lad," shouted Tamson, parrying. Still the -point hooked an ounce of good flesh out of the sergeant's arm. - -"Got ye," yelled Spud, lunging forward with his bayonet. The officer -writhed in a horrible way at the other end of his rifle. With difficulty -he disengaged, but rather late, for a powerful Teuton made a terrible -blow with his butt. Tamson was struck on the side of the head and -stunned. He fell to the ground. Pat Muldoon saw it all and jumped -forward to guard him from further injury. Standing astride over his -prostrate form this great Irishman faced all odds. He wielded his rifle -in the same easy manner as he had formerly handled his pick. An Irishman -in a fight is a sight for the gods. He is a mixture of the dervish and -the devil. And a strange charm hung over the life of this son of Erin. -Man after man he felled like a woodman cutting pine. As the neighbouring -gun team had no desire to earn such a hurried despatch, they bolted to a -more safe and pleasant region in the dim beyond. - -Meantime, Captain Coronet had been getting on with his job. His -counter-attack crushed the first impact of the German host, but at a -terrible cost. Seventy men had bitten the dust, while he himself had -been prodded like a prize pig with German bayonets. Fortunately none of -his gashes were serious. Still, he and his men were about worn out when -a thundering cheer told them that the supporting company had arrived. -Into the fray dashed the eager avengers. Their enthusiasm turned the -tide. Away ran the Germans; the position was won. - -Out of the shambles rose Spud Tamson, somewhat dazed with the blow. - -"Cheer up, ould pal,--are yis better?" queried Muldoon. - -"What wis it?" asked Tamson. - -"Begorra, it's the stars ye've been seein'." - -"Three star brandy wisnae in it, Pat. It's worse than the D.T.'s." - -"Never mind, me bhoy, we've got their ould bullet engines," said Pat, -pointing to the machine guns with the gun team lying round. "But I say, -Spud, have a nip." - -"Sure, Pat, whaur is it?" - -"Here," he said, drawing a beautiful silver brandy-flask out of his -pocket. - -"Whaur did ye get this?" - -"In that German officer's pocket." - -"Man, it's the rale thing. Did ye get onything else?" - -"I did that,--a purse of gould German quids." - -"I get hauf o' that. It wis me that kill't him." - -"Roight, we'll share it out by-and-by." - -"Nae fear. Hauf it the noo." - -"Why?" - -"A bird in the haun's worth twa in the bush." - -"That's what the ould judge said when he gave me thirty days for -stealin' Mike Docherty's pigs," concluded Pat, as he ruefully parted -with half of his bag of gold. - -Spud also got his D.C.M. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -AN IMPERIAL AFFAIR. - - -"_I see_ Sergeant Tamson is in divisional orders to-day," said Colonel -Corkleg to Lieutenant Greens during breakfast in the dug-out. - -"What for, sir?" - -"Oh, his leading of that attack the other night. He's been awarded the -Distinguished Conduct Medal. Useful man. Useful man." - -"Yes, sir. Isn't it wonderful how a man like that, born in the slums, -has all the instinct of a leader, as well as the pluck of a dozen -ordinary men." - -"They're all the same, Greens," said the colonel, laying down his knife. -"You know, I have always commanded that type of man. In peace times you -find him convicted daily for drunkenness, absence, insolence, and a -hundred other things, yet in war he is always a hero." - -"I think, sir, the reason of that is that they are nearer to the brute -creation, and better able to stand the shocks of war." - -"Well--yes. Those fancy corps composed of gilded youths haven't much -stomach for a long campaign. They're bothered with brains. They think -too much. A man who thinks deeply isn't much use in the ranks. An -officer can do the thinking, the man must go to the cannon's mouth -without asking the reason why. It wouldn't do to have three million -generals in an army." - -"Another point, sir, that I have often thought of; that is, how these -men from the slums have always fought Britain's battles. Up till a few -years ago it could be said that Britain's battles were won by -aristocrats and paupers." - -"I never thought of that, Greens, but it's quite true, only the word -'pauper' might be interpreted in a broader sense. What I mean is, that -the very poor--honest poor in many cases--have always been in the ranks. -There are many reasons. First, since the feudal days, it has been their -lot to serve. Traditions have been passed down, even into such a place -as the Gallowgate. And tradition, as you know, is a wonderful -incentive." - -"But hasn't poverty got something to do with it, sir?" - -"Yes. Forty per cent enlist for the thrills of the business, another -forty per cent come in because of an empty stomach; the remainder have -probably been inspired to clear from their haunts through an energetic -policeman or an unfortunate affair of the heart. Still, poverty's no -crime, and a Don Juan is usually a gallant soldier. And, after all, -every one is a volunteer." - -"True. And yet I think this class of man will eventually pass out, sir. -Look at the hovels they live in,--the awful lives they're compelled to -lead. That, in time, will debilitate this class. Worse than that, I'm -afraid that Socialism is rapidly spreading. In fifty years these men -from the backlands of our cities will be anarchists and -revolutionaries." - -"You're wrong, Greens. These men are instinctively conservative; they -will remain conservative to the end. Every Britisher is at heart a Tory. -Look at Blatchford and Lloyd George. They used to wave the red flag, but -now they're ranting Imperialists--quite on a par with Salisbury or -Kipling. It's in the blood, my boy. They can't help it. Mark you, -Greens, I'm not arguing that there is no discontent in the slums. That -is partly the fault of the ruling caste, and partly the result of our -industrial system. We have been much too selfish in the past, and these -great factories are sweating the life-blood out of our city people. I -wish to God we could get them back to the land. The old, old days were -best. Then a man was 'passing rich with forty pounds a year.'" - -"I'm afraid, sir, that 'back to the land' is only a play term--nothing -more." - -"In our country--certainly. But we have a solution in our oversea -dominions. Why, I have seen boys from the slums of our country sent to -Canada, New Zealand, and Australia; now they are prosperous farmers. If -we cannot save our men in the ranks from the pauper's roll, I certainly -think we ought to get at their children. It is our duty. Their blood has -sealed the bonds of Empire. Let us give their children a share of the -Empire's treasure. If we don't, Greens, disease, as you say, will kill -these people, and then the vulgar rich will have to work their own mills -and defend their money-bags." - -These Colonials in our Division are certainly an excellent advertisement -for the Colonies. If their discipline is weak, their physique and pluck -leave nothing to be desired. It makes one feel awfully proud to see them -doing their bit. And the sight must annoy the Kaiser very much." - -"Ah, yes," said the old colonel with a fine gleam in his eyes, "we have -the right to feel proud. These men represent the finest Empire the world -has ever seen. No wonder they fight well. They've got something worth -fighting for. Of course, you know the Colonies well." - -"Yes, sir. Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are fine countries. And I -can understand why these men find discipline irksome. They are pioneers. -Every man has had to cut his way. They have pushed the plough and the -cash-desk over the prairies and on to the hills. They have sustained -civilisation and culture at the point of their rifles. Indians, Maoris, -and aborigines have been overawed by them and gathered into their -keeping. It's really wonderful what these young nations have done. Do -you know, colonel, I believe our colonial cousins will eventually become -so powerful that no hostile Alliance will be able to tackle us." - -"Yes; but, hello, who's this?" concluded the colonel, as a figure -darkened the doorway of the dug-out. It was the brigade-major. - -"Good-morning, Jones--anything on?" - -"Good-morning, sir, I've got some trouble for you," remarked the major -with a dry smile. - -"Oh!" - -"The Kaiser's got another brain storm. He has decided to lunch with the -gay madames of Calais. Our Division is, of course, in the way, and the -Brigade in particular, so there's going to be some fun." - -"When?" - -"Soon, sir. Our aeroplanes and agents report a great concentration -behind the enemy's lines. As we hold them on the most likely line of -advance, you may expect to be in the affair." - -"Well, Jones, it's a case of us making our wills. We hold the key of our -whole line. Their fury will be spent on that." - -"Yes, sir; and the brigadier wishes you to hold on at all costs. He will -reinforce you if things go badly. He said that he was glad you were -there." - -"Old toughs for a hard road, eh, Jones. Now--any more orders?" - -"Only one more, that is, to double your sentries and reinforce your -firing-line trench. If you can make any obstacles or entanglement tricks -in front of your line, the brigadier will be very glad." - -"I'll see to that." - -"Thank you, sir, good-morning." - -"Good-morning, Jones," and out jumped the brigade-major in continuance -of his task. When he had gone, the colonel sent for his company -commanders. The situation was explained, and all were instructed to -strengthen the line, erect more entanglements, and use every means in -their power to embarrass the enemy's advance. Nothing, of course, could -be done during the day. The enemy was only three hundred yards distant -from the first line of trenches. But for the next three nights all were -busy. Fifty yards in front of their trenches deep pits were dug. The -earth was removed, and over the deep gaps thin sticks were laid or -wedged into the sides. Green sods, which had been carefully cut, were -neatly laid across the sticks, so as to disguise the pits and resemble -the general lay of the ground. Behind these death-traps low barbed wire -entanglements were fixed. Some loose brushwood and other green stuff -aided in the disguise of these lures. Finally, the higher entanglements -were strengthened in such a way as to make the complete scheme a -death-making obstacle of no mean order. Many of the trenches were also -screened by a few dummy earthworks to draw the enemy's fire, and thus -minimise the casualty roll. Every man was given 250 rounds, all rifles -thoroughly cleaned, bayonets grimly sharpened to a razor-like standard, -and sentries doubled. These preparations were continued all along the -line. Behind, in the reserve area, reinforcements were prepared at a -central point to enable the G.O.C. to throw them forward where required. - -These arrangements, of course, were an indication to the rank and file -that something was on. That was all they knew, for in this war the -Allies had learned the need of secrecy and the folly of allowing war -correspondents to publish the orders of the day. This system is wise, -though annoying to the soldier and civilian with an inquiring turn of -mind. It makes the soldier feel like a chessman on a board--a mere atom -to be moved forward to death, or back into cover at the will of the -master-hand. It is the German system, and a splendid one, for published -orders and war correspondents are the curse of an army. South Africa -proved that. Intelligence agents of the Boers used to cable back the -illuminating paragraphs which had been sent by "Our Special -Correspondent." The new system naturally upsets the podgy club critics, -who like to direct the affairs of Britain from behind the cover of -roast-beef and whisky. "K," however, is a master-hand in dealing with -this type. He knows his job, and he has the will to overrule the clubman -and the crowing cocks at our parish pumps. But we must get on with the -killing business. - -Meantime the Germans had not been idle. With that vigour and -thoroughness so characteristic of the nation, they prepared for "The -Day"--another of the _THE'S_, of course. Victory was certain, for the -Kaiser had invoked the aid of his God. In a general proclamation -sprinkled with oaths, imbecile pleas, and biblical embellishments, he -called on his generals and army to charge for the Fatherland. He would -be with them--miles to the rear, of course--and he would stand waiting -with thousands of iron crosses to plaster round his soldiers' chests. -God was to be on the side of his big battalions. - -The plan on this occasion was the old one--dense masses of men. Line -after line of conscripts to be thrown to death and destruction. But the -preliminary bombardment was a thing which they also relied on. This -commenced at the dawn of a cold and drizzling day. The boom of the first -shell roused "Sunny Jim" and the Staff of the Mixed Division. A tinkle -of a telephone bell stirred the British gunners to action. Observers -cunningly concealed in some haystacks in the forward part of the line -immediately 'phoned back the range of the German batteries. The crash of -our shells 'midst the guns of the enemy was a fitting reply. The range -was accurate and the toll a deadly one. However, these German gunners -have a wonderful pluck and persistency. Their observers saw many guns, -new trenches, and here and there fields dotted with turbans, caps, and -badly concealed guns in the Allied lines. Eagerly they worked out their -range tables, and crash went their guns again. One great line of -trenches with Indian turbans and Tommies' caps peeping over was -bombarded with three hundred powerful shells. The parapets were wrecked, -trenches burst, and great craters made in the surrounding fields. Deadly -gunnery and deadly havoc. No wonder Krupp's hirelings gained the iron -cross. The exposed guns were crushed to smithereens, and the gunners -near knocked down like dollies in a fair. This made the German observers -glad. To them the battle promised well. But one of the German observers, -stationed in an old windmill, received sudden marching orders through -the agency of a powerful British shell. - -"Sunny Jim" was pleased to allow the "hits" of the German batteries. His -unorthodox methods had proved supreme. With his wonderful cunning he had -prepared those long and exposed lines of dummy trenches, dotted with -turbans and caps. The "guns" which they had smashed were simply trees -resting on the wheels of old farm carts. The "gunners" killed had been -made out of old khaki suits filled with straw. True, the Germans had -registered some good hits on the real trenches and live men, while here -and there a gun had been knocked out of action. Yet the stagecraft of -this clever G.O.C. had lessened the casualty roll and drawn the enemy's -fire away from the hives of our warriors. Britons are not so stupid as -they seem. As for our guns, they were a match for Krupp's newest and -latest. The Mixed Division was armed with weapons of a powerful range -and a deadly type. There was no useless aiming or extravagant shooting. -Almost every shell burst near a breech block and mangled its defenders. -For six hours they pumped death and destruction into the gun-pits, -trenches, and masses of grey-coated Germans waiting for the assault. -This was very annoying to Kaiser Bill, sitting in his three-ply -armour-plated travelling booth. But it did not alter his decision. -"Forward" was his order after the bombardment. As he himself was excused -the honour of advancing, he made certain of the fulfilment of his -commands. - -There was an air of death and stillness in those British lines towards -which the deep ranks of the Germans marched. The gunners must have done -well. A spirit of victory filled them: more eagerly they marched to -Calais--the Kaiser's dream. But the reckoning was to come. Deep in their -burrows lay thousands of expectant British warriors. Every magazine was -charged, and every sentry coolly watching the stern advance of the -German host. Nearer, still nearer they came. At last they reached the -deadly zone--300 yards. - -"Rapid fire," roared Colonel Corkleg, and every other commander in that -great, long line. The crash was terrific, the surprise amazing, and the -shrieks of death and pain alarming. The great line paused in terror, but -only for a moment. On they came again, the living jumping over the dead. -Do not call them cowards. They can fight and die. They faced their -punishment nobly. Maxims and rifles poured death into line after line; -still on they came. With a devilish delight the Glesca Mileeshy watched -their advance. - -"They're near Bannockburn noo," said Spud to his pals as the enemy ran -towards the pits. - -"They're in! They're in!" he yelled as the first line tumbled down into -the death-traps. Hundreds floundered to an awful end in front of the -British lines. The cries of the struggling mass were even heard above -the din of shooting. The next line paused in horror, and many tried to -run, but the officers' swords and revolvers drove on the men in rear and -shoved still more into the chambers of horror. At last they were filled, -and over the mangled and moaning men the others charged to the trenches. - -"Rapid fire!" ordered Spud, and every other section commander all along -the line. The response was startling. Worse, something caught the feet -of the first line. It was the low entanglements. The running men were -thrown forward on to the jagging stakes and piercing wire. Again the -advance was stemmed, and again the British maxims and rifles exacted a -frightful toll. To the sensitive soul such a sight is awful and -sickening. Brutality is triumphant, and war shown in all its hellish -aspects. There is little culture in the business. It is simply the awful -expression of Hate. Nevertheless, such men as the Glesca Mileeshy viewed -almost calmly the scene. They even joked and laughed as they sent their -bullets into the reeling masses of men. - -"They're comin' again--Rapid fire," commanded Spud to his men once more. -The weight of numbers had pushed the living over the maimed. They -clambered across their bodies towards the high entanglements. A crisis -was near, and every man in the Glesca Mileeshy fixed his bayonet, then -opened fire again. Dead men paved the way to the higher entanglements. - -Click! Click! Click! went the enemy's wire-cutters all along the line. -Some even tore themselves over or through the barbed wire. They had -reached their goal. - -"Gae them H----, boys," roared Spud above the din. There was no need to -command. Out of the trenches leaped the front line of the Glesca -Mileeshy. The slaughter was fierce. Blood spurted everywhere. Germans -and British struggled like Dervishes for the mastery. Screams were mixed -with curses, moans drowned in the awful din. Germans hate our British -bayonets; in fact they loathe cold steel at any time. Seldom will they -face such music, but this attack had been driven on. To turn meant death -from the bayonets behind; even if they had escaped from the crush a -German officer's revolver would have quickly ended their flight. Brave -as they are, when equal in numbers against our arms the British assert -their superiority with natural ease. The Glesca Mileeshy, like their -co-partners, had centuries of tradition behind them. Germans, after all, -are young at the game of war. - -Colonel Corkleg viewed the awful struggle from the supporting trenches. -The condition of affairs was uninspiring. He saw more and more grey -masses of the enemy surging forward to swell the attacking line. - -"Good God!" he exclaimed, as two great columns burst through on the -right and left of his line. He also noticed that the regiments on his -flanks were retiring. Was it panic? Were they complying with previous -orders? He did not know. All he knew was that his regiment had been told -to hold on at all costs. He would do so, for, like a true soldier, he -had a firm sense of duty and a belief in his general. As it was useless -to waste more men in his front line, he signalled to them to retire -through the communication trench. - -"Retire, man by man," ordered Lieutenant Greens, waiting with Spud to -see all the men through. Perhaps the action of the officer and sergeant -was unnecessarily cautious and daring; yet it is typical of the British -officer and N.C.O. Quickly the men jumped down into the communication -trench and ran on to the supports. Nearly all had gone, when Spud was -alarmed to hear some one say-- - -"Sergint--Spud--for the love of God, don't lave me--I'm done in, bhoy." -Spud turned from his act of bayoneting a German to see poor Muldoon -lying half mangled across the parapet. - -"Get hold of him, sergeant--I'll keep the devils off," roared Greens, -smiting the attackers with the butt-end of a rifle. Spud jumped forward -and grabbed the heavy form of his faithful chum. He staggered with the -weight, but, with a superhuman effort, half carried and dragged the -wounded man along the deep communicating trench. Colonel Corkleg and his -men had seen it all. They even stopped for a second to cheer. As Spud -dropped his load he turned to look for his officer. He saw him -surrounded by half a dozen wild Bavarians. - -"Come on, three o' ye," he shouted to the nearest men. They clattered -down the trench behind his nimble form. Into the surging mob they -dashed, gashing and hacking as they went. Poor old Greens had fallen. He -seemed almost dead as Spud jumped and pulled him out from beneath the -attackers' feet. - -"Haud them for a meenit," roared Spud, "and I'll get him back." - -"Richt ye are," was the willing response of the three stalwarts. Nobly -they tackled their men, but, alas! two were killed in the _mêlée_; the -third man had to flee with a terrible bayonet wound in his chest. Spud -pulled the lieutenant under cover of the supporting trench, and then -handed him and the other wounded men over to the stretcher-bearers. - -"Things look bad," mused Colonel Corkleg, viewing the surging horde of -yelling Bavarians, who were now advancing again. He knew he was in a -tight hole; he was also aware that the eyes of his men were on him. That -is the Tommie's way. In danger he looks to his officer. If the officer -is still the same cool gentleman who has kindly but firmly guided him in -the other affairs of peace and war--all's well. But--if there is a sense -of despair, a touch of pallor, a command given out in a nervous way, -then that wonderful confidence which wins all battles dies out in a -flash. Corkleg knew the working of the soldier's mind. This was an -occasion to preserve to the last the air of ease and the sense of hope. -Between puffs of a cigarette he calmly issued his orders, directed the -fire, and occasionally cursed a slacker who fiddled with his bolt. - -"Thank Heaven for our Maxims," he remarked to the adjutant, as he -watched Cocky Dan and his gunners sending death and disorder into the -German ranks. Then jumping over the dead bodies of some of his gallant -men, he entered a little dug-out where the telephone was. Turning the -handle, he waited. A faint tinkle quickly echoed through the din. - -"Hello--is that the brigadier?" - -"Yes." - -"We're in a tight fix here, sir. We've lost the first line of trenches. -The regiments on my right and left have gone. It looks as if we're going -to be scuppered." - -"Hold on, for God's sake, colonel. Yours is the key of the whole line. -They must not get it. We'll reinforce you soon. Good-bye." - -"I hope to God you will," he muttered, dropping the 'phone. He was not -afraid of slaughter, but he was certainly afraid of the enemy capturing -this, the pivot of the defence. The colonel, of course, was not aware of -the higher policy which had placed him there, for even commanding -officers are seldom informed of the inner secrets of attack and defence. -In this case the G.O.C. knew the strength of the enemy and fully -estimated the deadly weight of their numbers. Brave as his men were, it -was impossible for them to repel this great attack in its early stages. -Nor would it have been wise to do so. He knew the enemy could break the -line. It was, therefore, essential to work out his defence in such a way -that he might avoid needless casualties, gain time, inflict a frightful -slaughter, and then drive home the counter-attack--the soundest maxim of -war. The point held by the Glesca Mileesha, however, could not even be -temporarily surrendered. It was on a knoll commanding the flat country -round. If captured by the enemy it would have been an easy matter for -them to gallop forward their light field batteries under cover of this -hill, and then render to the attacking German infantry a weighty -co-operation which would have been fatal to the British general's plan. -That was why this regiment was there, and the presence of this regiment -gave their general the assurance that they would hold out while he -attempted a venture thrust upon him by the will and numbers of the -enemy. Colonel Corkleg, of course, may have divined this thought of the -G.O.C., but he had not been informed of the fact. He had been given a -definite order--"To hold out till the last," and in the British Army -orders are always obeyed. The orders to the colonels of the regiments on -his immediate right and left were to promptly retire when the enemy -reached the first line of their trenches. On arriving at two little -knolls covering the ground which they had surrendered, they were -instructed to immediately reform behind them. There they would find -sixteen Maxim guns and fresh troops to aid them. That was all they knew. -But behind a great earthwork screen, some five hundred yards to the rear -of this second line, the Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, and -Gurkhas lay under cover, ready, if need be, to repulse a serious -reverse, but really destined to carry out the counter-assault. - -Now, imagine the scene. The Glesca Mileeshy fighting like Trojans -against the helmeted hordes who tried to envelop and crush them. Their -trenches were filled with blood, and hundreds lay maimed and dead. Round -their flanks swept rank after rank of the Germans, in vigorous pursuit -of the little sections of retiring regiments who fired a few rounds, -then ran on to the next bit of cover, where they repeated the same -performance with a coolness truly wonderful and inspiring. Their volleys -were deadly enough, but feeble against such a mighty deluge of men. -Still, they lured them on, then finally disappeared behind the flanks of -their second line of defence. Meantime, the German reserves had arrived. -Inspired by the success of their first lines, they pressed bravely -forward to finish their job, leaving the Glesca Mileeshy almost -encircled by their friends. - -Z-r-r-p--Z-r-r-p--Z-r-r-p spat the machine-gun batteries behind the -little knolls. This was accompanied by a terrific explosion of land -mines, which burst beneath the feet of the enemy, as well as the rapid -fire of the infantry and the crashing bombs from five aeroplanes above. -Hundreds were blown lifeless and mutilated into the air, hundreds more -were riddled with the traversing fire of the Maxim guns, while many were -caught with the well-aimed musketry of the eager Tommies. The great host -reeled with the blow. Death and fumes, the smoke and noise, stupefied -them all. They were like lost sheep in a wilderness. Indeed, the enemy -had reached that mental state when a counter-attack will always win. - -"Double forward the reserves, and, when ready, charge," was the order -flashed from the G.O.C. of the Mixed Division. Out of the earth rose the -Indians and Colonials--brothers in arms. Their advance was covered by -the men and Maxims on the knolls in front of them. Gleefully they -ran--Indians mixed with Canadians, New Zealanders, and Australians. They -reached the second line of defence and lay down for a breath. - -"Fix bayonets--prepare to charge," was the next order flashed along the -line. The clicking of the steel rings on the bayonet standards was a -cheerful sound to all. - -"Charge!" A wild hurrah was heard from seven thousand men. Seven -thousand bayonets gleamed in the now sparkling sun. And down like an -avalanche swept the sons of Empire. Words can never depict a charge. It -is wild, almost insane, yet glorious. There is a thrill of pride in the -veins that kills all fear and makes even the fattest and laziest envious -of the fleet-footed subalterns, who always lead the way. And this was an -Imperial charge--a charge of willing volunteers, who loved the -Motherland. - -The stupefied Germans were horror-struck. Seven thousand fresh and lusty -warriors struck terror into their hearts. And those bayonets! Well, who -wouldn't run! They fled like hares on a frosty morning, pursued by the -yelling and stabbing multitude. The slow-footed fell in hundreds. But on -pressed the Mixed Division. Over their original line they charged to a -great and glorious victory. The counter-attack had won the day. - -Just as the battle ended, "Sunny Jim" dashed up in his motor-car. News -of the victory had cheered him, but he was anxious to learn the fate of -the Glesca Mileeshy. As the car neared Colonel Corkleg's position, he -was received with a cheer from a hundred men. - -"Good God, colonel--is that all that's left to you?" said the general -quietly, looking on the living, then at the piled-up dead. - -"Yes, sir," said Corkleg, with a catch in his voice, as he tried to -salute. The strain and an awful bayonet wound in the shoulder had -drained much of his blood. He collapsed at the general's feet. - -"Never mind me, doctor," he whispered in a weak voice to the surgeon who -had jumped to his side. "Look after Sergeant Tamson." - -"Who, sir?" - -"The man who saved me," said the colonel, trying to point to the -prostrate form of Spud, who lay almost lifeless on the top of some dead -Germans. Then closing his eyes he swooned away, muttering, "Useful -man--useful man." - -Spud Tamson was found living, yet seriously wounded. He had been -bayoneted in the chest while gallantly rescuing his colonel from a band -of lusty Bavarians. - -"Save him if you can, for he has earned the V.C.," said the adjutant to -the doctor as Spud was lifted into the motor ambulance. - -"Oh, he'll live all right," was the cheerful reply as the motor started -on its way. And live he did. The whole Empire cried "Well done," and all -the world wondered at this hero from the slums. - - - - -A CONVENTIONAL FINISH. -EXTRACT FROM THE PRESS. - - -_Marriages_.--At the residence of Colonel Corkleg, C.B., by the Rev. -Father Murphy, Sergeant Spud Tamson, V.C., The Glesca Mileeshy, to Mary -Ann M'Ginnes, daughter of Patrick M'Ginnes, The Gallowgate, Glasgow. - - THE END. - PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. - - - - -Blackwoods' SHILLING Editions of Popular Novels. - - - Bound in Cloth. With Coloured Illustration on Wrapper. - - - "_Q_" (_Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch_). - - HOCKEN AND HUNKEN. - - _JOHN BUCHAN_. - - THE WATCHER BY THE THRESHOLD. - - THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS. - - _Captain R. W. CAMPBELL_. - - PRIVATE SPUD TAMSON. - - "_BARTIMEUS_." - - NAVAL OCCASIONS. - - _BEATRICE HARRADEN_. - - SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT. - - _NEIL MUNRO_. - - THE DAFT DAYS. - - FANCY FARM. - - _IAN HAY_. - - "PIP": _A Romance of Youth_. - - THE RIGHT STUFF. - - A MAN'S MAN. - - A SAFETY MATCH. - - HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. - - _MAUD DIVER_. - - CAPTAIN DESMOND, V.C. - - THE GREAT AMULET. - - CANDLES IN THE WIND. - - WM. BLACKWOOD & SONS, _Edinburgh and London_. - - - _JOSEPH CONRAD_. - - LORD JIM: _A Tale_. - - _ALEXANDER CRAWFORD_. - - THE ALIAS. - - _F. MARION CRAWFORD_. - - SARACINESCA. - - _BETH ELLIS_. - - THE MOON OF BATH. - - _KATHERINE C. THURSTON_. - - JOHN CHILCOTE, M.P. - - _J. STORER CLOUSTON_. - - THE LUNATIC AT LARGE - - _SYDNEY C. GRIER_. - - THE PATH TO HONOUR. - - THE POWER OF THE KEYS. - - THE ADVANCED-GUARD. - - _W. J. ECCOTT_. - - THE RED NEIGHBOUR. - - _OLE LUK-OIE_. - - THE GREEN CURVE. - - _HUGH FOULIS_. - - PARA HANDY. - - THE VITAL SPARK. (_Illustrated_. _Paper cover_.) - - _WYMOND CAREY._ - - "_No_. 101." - - WM. BLACKWOOD & SONS. _Edinburgh and London_ - - - - -THE BEST OF ALL WAR STORIES - - - The Green Curve - By Ole Luk-Oie - *ONE SHILLING NET* - -"These short stories are the most striking that have appeared for a good -many years."--_Standard._ - -"Fascinating reading."--_Observer._ - -" ... These engrossing pages."--_Spectator._ - -" ... Since 'The Battle of Dorking' nothing so realistic has -appeared."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, Edinburgh and London. - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIVATE SPUD TAMSON *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47315 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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