The Amateur Army Part 8

"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa."

"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."

"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body."

At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.

Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners, a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:

The battalion moves to-morrow.

Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.

Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.

I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnis.h.i.+ng bayonets and oiling the bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the night before.

When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, b.u.t.tered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins, stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the other, were preparing to call the roll.

Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man, and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected and ident.i.ty discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await us in ---- but I antic.i.p.ate, and at present all we know is that our regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive, we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.

We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."

Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-cla.s.s.

Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment, the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the c.o.c.kney youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man.

The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a d.i.c.kens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep, his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.

Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "f.a.g-ends."

Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:

"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"

"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.

"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.

"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.

Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night would be a good one for sailing to France.

If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.

THE END.

JUST PUBLISHED

THE RAT-PIT

BY PATRICK MACGILL

"Children of the Dead End" came upon the literary world as something of a surprise; it dealt with a phase of life about which nothing was known. It was compared with the work of Borrow and Kipling.

Incidentally three editions, aggregating 10,000 copies, were called for within fifteen days. In his new book Mr. MacGill still deals with the underworld he knows so well. He tells of a life woven of darkest threads, full of pity and pathos, lighted up by that rare and quaint humour that made his first book so attractive. "The Rat-Pit" tells the story of an Irish peasant girl brought up in an atmosphere of poverty, where the purity of the poor and the innocence of maidenhood stand out in simple relief against a grim and sombre background. Norah Ryan leaves her home at an early age, and is plunged into a new world where dissolute and heedless men drag her down to their own miry level. Mr.

MacGill's lot has been cast in strange places, and every incident of his book is pregnant with a vivid realism that carries the conviction that it is a literal transcript from life, as in fact it is. Only last summer, just before he enlisted, Mr. MacGill spent some time in Glasgow reviving old memories of its underworld. His characters are mostly real persons, and their sufferings, the sufferings of women burdened and oppressed with wrongs which women alone bear, are a strong indictment against a dubious civilisation.

HERBERT JENKINS LD., 12 ARUNDEL PLACE, LONDON, S.W.

10,000 COPIES CALLED FOR IN 10 DAYS.

CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END

The Autobiography of a Navvy. By PATRICK MACGILL.

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GLOBE "A living story."

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STANDARD "A notable book."

SAt.u.r.dAY REVIEW "An achievement."

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OUTLOOK "A remarkable book."

BYSTANDER "A human doc.u.ment."

COUNTRY LIFE "A human doc.u.ment."

TRUTH "Intensely interesting."

EV. STANDARD "A thrilling achievement."

D. TELEGRAPH "Will have a lasting value."

PALL MALL GAZ. "Nothing can withstand it."

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BOOKMAN "A poignantly human book."

ENGLISH REVIEW "A wonderful piece of work."

GRAPHIC "An enthralling slice of life."

D. SKETCH "A book that will make a stir."

ATHENaeUM "We welcome such books as this."

ILL. LONDON NEWS "An outstanding piece of work."

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