Chapter 2

In a corner of this room is a bridge-four. The C.O. is sitting in an authoritative, relentless silence. His tactical dispositions have been made and they are going to be pushed through to the end, cost what it may to the enemy or his own side. His partner is Second-Lieutenant Combes, deviously thinking to himself with all the superior knowledge of youth, "What rotten dispositions these C.O.'s do make!" but endeavouring to conceal his feelings by the manipulation of his face and a more than usually heavy interspersion of "Sirs" in his conversation. The enemy are ill-assorted allies: Captain Parr, a dashing player of great courage and very ready tongue, and Lieutenant Sumners, one of those grim, earnest fighters whom no event however sudden or stupendous can surprise into speech. This latter is a real soldier whose life is conducted in every particular on the lines laid down in military text-books. He asks himself always, "Is it soldierly?" and never "Is it common-sense?" He is at present in trouble with his superior officer for having frozen on to his ace of trumps long after he should have parted with it. But those text-books say, "Keep your best forces in reserve," and so the little trumps must needs be put in the firing line first.

As to the other officers of your acquaintance, each is making merry, as the season demands, in his own fashion. One is studying, not for the first time, a map on the wall showing the inner truth of the currents in the Pacific; another is observing, for his information and further guidance, the process of manufacture of lead pencils as illustrated by samples in a glass-case. Others are being more jovial still; having exhausted the pictures and advertisements of the sixpenny Society papers, they are now actually reading the letter-press. The machine-gun officer, as I gather from his occasional remarks, is asleep as usual.

And now the gramophone has ceased; but, alas! Captain d'Arcy has begun--on the piano. As I write, the scheme of communication between his right and his left flanks has broken down. Like a prudent officer, he suspends operations, gives the "stand-fast!" and sends out a cautious patrol to reconnoitre the position. He even cedes a little of the ground he has gained. Glancing at his music, I must admit that he is in a dangerous situation, heavily wooded in the treble, with sudden and sharp elevations and depressions in the bass, and the possibility of an ambush at every turn. His reconnoitring party returns; he starts to move forward again with scouts always in advance. He halts; he advances again and proceeds (for he too is a trained soldier) by short rushes about five bars at a time.... At last the situation develops and he pauses to collect all his available forces and get them well in hand. I can almost hear the order being passed along the line--"Prepare to charge"--almost catch the bugle-call as his ten fingers rush forth to the assault, forth to death or glory, to triumph or utter confusion.... As to what follows, I have always thought the rally after a charge was an anticlimax, even when it consists of a rapid "Rule Britannia!" passing off evenly, without a hitch.

I find, looking round my fellow-officers, that I have omitted the final touch, the last stirring detail to complete the picture of the soldier's hard but eventful life. In the one easy, or easy-ish, chair sits the Major, that gallant gentleman whose sole but exacting business in life it is to gallop like the devil into the far distance when it is rumoured that the battalion will deploy. He sits now at leisure, but even at leisure he is not at ease: silent, with every nerve and fibre strained to the utmost tension, he crouches over his work. He is at his darning; ay, with real wool and a real needle he is darning his socks. The colour of his work may not be harmonious, but it is a thorough job; he has done what even few women would do, he has darned not only the hole in his hosiery but his left hand also.

As for the men, they have been dealt with by a select body under the formidable title of the Christmas Festivities Committee. It has provided each man with a little beer, a lot of turkey and much too much plum pudding. Having disengaged the birds into their separate units, it has then left the man to himself for the day, thus showing, in my opinion, a wise discretion rarely found in committees, even military committees.

Yours ever, HENRY.

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* * * * *

"Exchange, charming country parish, North Yorks. Easy distance sea. Income safe."--_Advt. in "Guardian."_

Yes, but what about the rectory?

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* * * * *

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL.

I rode into Pincher River on an August afternoon, The pinto's hoofs on the prairie drumming a drowsy tune, By the shacks and the Chinks' truck-gardens to the Athabasca saloon.

And a bunch of the boys was standing around by the old Scotch store, Standing and spitting and swearing by old Macallister's door-- And the name on their lips was Britain--the word that they spoke was War.

War!... Do you think I waited to talk about wrong or right When I knew my own old country was up to the neck in a fight? I said, "So long!"--and I beat it--"I'm hitting the trail to-night."

I wasn't long at my packing. I hadn't much time to dress, And the cash I had at disposal was a ten-spot--more or less; So I didn't wait for my ticket; I booked by the Hoboes' Express.

I rode the bumpers at night-time; I beat the ties in the day; Stealing a ride and bumming a ride all of the blooming way, And--I left the First Contingent drilling at Valcartier!

I didn't cross in a liner (I hadn't my passage by me!); I spotted a Liverpool cargo tramp, smelly and greasy and grimy, And they wanted hands for the voyage, and the old man guessed he'd try me.

She kicked like a ballet-dancer or a range-bred bronco mare; She rolled till her engines rattled; she wallowed, but what did I care? It was "Go it, my bucking beauty, if only you take me there!"

Then came an autumn morning, grey-blue, windy and clear, And the fields--the little white houses--green and peaceful and dear, And the heart inside of me saying, "Take me, Mother, I'm here!

"Here, for I thought you'd want me; I've brought you all that I own-- A lean long lump of a carcass that's mostly muscle and bone, Six-foot-two in my stockings--weigh-in at fourteen stone.

"Here, and I hope you'll have me; take me for what I'm worth-- A chap that's a bit of a waster, come from the ends of the earth To fight with the best that's in him for the dear old land of his birth!"

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* * * * *

THE PEACE-MAKER.

The Anonymous War is not to be followed by an Anonymous Peace. I have Twyerley's own authority for this statement.

I may go farther and make public the interesting fact that Twyerley himself has the matter in hand, and readers of _The Daily Booster_ will at an early date receive precise instructions how and where to secure Part I. of The History of the Peace before it is out of print. It is well known that all publications issuing from that Napoleonic brain are out of print within an hour or two of their appearance, but Twyerley takes precautions to safeguard readers of _The Booster_ against any such catastrophic disappointment.

In approaching the Peace problem at this stage Twyerley is displaying his customary foresight. The military authorities frustrated Twyerley's public-spirited attempt to let the readers of _The Booster_ into the secret of General JOFFRE'S strategy--ruthlessly suppressing his daily column on The Position at the Front. He has resolved that the diplomatists shall not repeat the offence; he will be beforehand with them.

If Twyerley had been listened to in times of peace there would have been no war; the fact is undeniable. Since war has come, however, the danger of a patched-up peace must be avoided at all costs. In order that there shall be no mistake Twyerley has prepared a map of Europe-as-it-must-be-and-shall-be or Twyerley and his myriad readers will know the reason why. (The map is presented gratis with Part I. of the History and may also be had, varnished and mounted on rollers, for clubs and military academies.)

Twyerley at work upon the map is a thrilling spectacle. With his remorseless scissors he hovers over Germany and Austria in a way that would make the two KAISERS blench. Snip! away goes Alsace-Lorraine and a slice of the Palatinate; another snip! and Galicia flutters into the arms of Russia.

The History is to be completed in twenty-four parts, if the Allies' plenipotentiaries possess the capabilities with which Twyerley credits them; but he has prudently provided for extensions in case of need.

Anyway, whether the Treaty of Peace be signed in twelve months or twelve years, the final part of the History will go to press on the morrow.

Armed with the History, readers of _The Booster_ will be able to follow step by step the contest in the council-chamber, when it takes place. They will be able to paint the large white map with the special box of colours supplied at a small additional cost. That, as Twyerley justly observes, is an ideal means of teaching the new geography of Europe to children. Even the youngest member of a household where the History is taken regularly will be in a position to say what loss of territory the KAISERS and Turkey must suffer. (Twyerley had some idea of running a Prize Competition on these lines but was reluctant to embarrass the Government.)

Several entire chapters will be devoted to "Famous Scraps of Paper" from NEBUCHADNEZZAR to the Treaty of Bucharest. Illustrations of unique interest have been secured. For instance, the Peace of Westphalia carries a reproduction of the original document, portraits and biographies of the signatories, and a statistical table of the Westphalian ham industry. Similarly, the Treaty of Utrecht is accompanied by a view of that interesting town and several pages of original designs for Utrecht velvet.

Thus, what Twyerley calls "the human interest" is amply catered for.

The section "International Law for the Million" presents its subject in a novel tabloid form, as exhaustive as it is entertaining. I know for a fact that an army of clerks has been engaged at the British Museum for some weeks looking up the data.

Following the part which contains concise accounts of every European nation from the earliest times, comes "Points for Plenipotentiaries," occupying several entire numbers. Here is where the genius of Twyerley shines at its brightest, and personally I think that the British representatives at the Peace Congress should be provided beforehand with these invaluable pages. With Twyerley at their elbows, so to speak, they should be equal to the task of checkmating the wily foreigner.

I wish the KAISER could see Twyerley scissoring his territory to shreds!

* * * * *

A VOICE IN THE NIGHT.

I dislike many things--snakes, for example, and German spies, and the income tax, and cold fat mutton; but even more than any of these I dislike William Smith.

As all the world knows, special constables hunt in couples at nights, a precaution adopted in order that, if either of the two is slain in the execution of his duty, the other may be in a position to report on the following morning the exact hour and manner of his decease, thus satisfying the thirst of the authorities for the latest information, and relieving his departed companion's relatives of further anxiety in regard to his fate.

William Smith is the special constable who hunts with me. As to whom or what we are hunting, or what we should do to them or they would do to us if we caught them or they caught us, we are rather vague; but we endeavour to carry out our duty. Our total bag to date has been one Royal Mail, and even him we merely let off with a caution.

Three days ago, by an unfortunate coincidence, William Smith overtook me at the end of the High Street, just as our sergeant was coming round the corner in the opposite direction. At sight of the latter we halted, dropped our parcels in the mud, stiffened to attention and saluted. The last was a thing we ought not to have done, even allowing for his leggings, which were (and are still) of a distinctly upper-military type. But in the special constabulary your sergeant is a man to be placated. His powers are enormous. He can, if he likes, spoil your beauty sleep at both ends by detailing you for duty from 12 to 4 A.M.; or, on the other hand, he can forget you altogether for a fortnight. Thus we always avoid meeting him if possible; failing that, we always salute him.

"Ha!" exclaimed our sergeant.

We shuddered, and William Smith, who is smaller than myself, tried to escape his gaze by forming two deep.

"What the devil are you playing at?" growled our sergeant. Though one of the more prominent sidesmen at our local church, he has developed quite the manner of an officer, almost, at times, I like to think, of a general officer. William Smith formed single rank again.

Our sergeant took out his notebook. "I'm glad I happened to meet you two," he said.

We shivered, but otherwise remained at attention.

"Let me see," he went on, consulting his list, "you are on together again to-morrow night at 12."

It was the last straw. Forgetting his rank, forgetting his leggings, forgetting the possibilities of his language, forgetting myself, I spoke.

"I protest," I said.

The eyes of our sergeant bulged with wrath, pushing his pince-nez off his nose and causing them to clatter to the pavement. But a special constable is a man of more than ordinary courage. "Allow me," I murmured, and I stooped, picked them up and handed them back to him.

"Explain yourself," he muttered hoarsely.

"For the past three months," I said, "I have endured fifty-six of the darkest hours of the night, cut off from any possibility of human aid, in the company of William Smith, a conversational egoist of the lowest and most determined type. Throughout this period he has inflicted on me atrocities before which those of the Germans pale into insignificance. During the first month he described to me in detail the achievements and diseases from birth upwards of all his children--a revolting record. He next proceeded to deal exhaustively with the construction and working of his gramophone, his bathroom geyser, his patent knife-machine and his vacuum carpet-cleaner; also with his methods of drying wet boots, marking his under-linen, circumventing the water-rate collector and inducing fertility in reluctant pullets. This brought us to the middle of November. Finally, during the last four weeks he has wandered into the ramifications of his wife's early-Victorian family tree, of which we are still in the lower branches.

"I cannot retaliate in kind. I have no children, poultry, pedigree wives, nor any of the other articles, except boots and shirts, in which the soul of William Smith rejoices. There is but one remedy open to me, and of this, unless you detail me for duty with someone else, I propose to avail myself at the first convenient opportunity. I shall kill William Smith."

I stopped and saluted again.

And then a wonderful thing happened. I discovered that beneath our sergeant's military leggings there still beat the rudiments of a human heart. Yes, as I looked at him I saw his softened eyes suffused with sympathetic tears.

"My poor fellow!" he said in a broken voice.

It was too much. I sank to the pavement, saluting as I fell, and knew no more. When I recovered consciousness in hospital I found in the pocket of my coat an envelope containing the following: "Promoted to the rank of corporal and invalided for three weeks, after which you will take duty with your chauffeur."

William Smith and I have severed diplomatic relations. It is better so.

* * * * *

REJECTED OFFERINGS.

MY DEAR _Mr. Punch_,--In these first few days after Christmas many of your readers are no doubt faced, as we have been, with a problem which is quite new to them. I hope they took the precaution--as we did--to write and explain to all likely givers (1) that this was no year for the exchange of Christmas gifts among grown-up people who have no need for them; (2) that it was the opinion of all right-thinking persons that no such gifts should be sent, and (3) that consequently they were sending none and hoped to receive none.

That is all right as far as it goes, but the problem remains of what is to be done with those people who can't be stopped? We have had several painful instances of this sort. The stuff has arrived, the usual sort of non-war stuff, some of which must have cost quite a lot of money, of which it may with truth be said, "your King and Country need you." How were these things to be dealt with, since we felt that we could not keep them?

We found that no general treatment could be applied; we have had to sort them out into groups, before deflecting them into the proper courses.

_Books_ to hospitals. In this case the matron is asked to acknowledge them direct to the original giver.

_Smoking Accessories_ (such as the newest pipe-filler and match-striker and cigarette-case-opener and pouch-unfolder and cigar-holder-grip), to the nearest male Belgian; and

_All other portable presents_ to the nearest female Belgian. (These two classes may be neatly acknowledged in the columns of the _Courier Belge_.)

_All larger presents_ (of the motor-car, pianola and sewing-machine variety) to be sold by auction for the National Relief Fund. Marked catalogue of the sale to be sent to the giver in proof of their safe arrival.

Yours, etc., AN ORDINARY ENGLISHMAN.

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* * * * *

"The Surveyor reported that the owners of the manure heaps by the Recreation Ground Tennis Courts had by now been covered over with seaweed, etc., thus complying with the Council's wishes."--_Barmouth Advertiser._

We hope this will be a lesson to them.

* * * * *

The usual formula for beginning a letter is thus neatly rendered by a Hottentot Boy:--

"As I have a line to state just to let you know that I am still soluberious under the superiority of the Supreme-Being, hoping to hear the same likewise from you."

We recommend it very heartily as a good opening for New Year's Eve correspondence.

* * * * *

THE IMPERIAL INFANTICIDE.

It was a mighty Emperor Of ancient pedigree Who said, "The future of our race Lies on the rolling sea!" And straightway laboured to fulfil His royal guarantee.

And when the Day had dawned, for which He long had toiled and planned, Unto his Grand High Admiral He issued his command: "Go forth, and smite the enemy Upon his native strand."

Sailing by night and veiled in mist, His swiftest ships of war Rained death on two defenceless towns For half an hour or more, Till they had slain and wounded babes And women by the score.

The Fatherland was filled with joy By this heroic deed; It gloated o'er the slaughtered babes Of Albion's hated breed; And Iron Crosses fell in showers On those who'd made them bleed.

But honest neutrals everywhere Were sickened and dismayed; The Turk, not squeamish as a rule, No special glee betrayed; And even Mr. BERNARD SHAW Failed to defend the raid!

Then more in sorrow than in wrath The EMPEROR made moan: "Though martyred and misunderstood I tread my way alone, At least I have the sympathy Of God on His high throne."

Then from the pillar and the cloud Came accents clear and plain: "The Massacre of Innocents Passes the guilt of CAIN; And those who sin with HEROD earn His everlasting stain."

* * * * *

Two announcements at Hereford:--

"Cathedral Service, Sunday, Dec. 13th. Preacher: Rev. H. M. Spooner.

Baptist Chapel. Lecture: 'Slips of Speech and Trips in Type.'"

"Yes," said the President of New College on his way to the Cathedral, "I know something about slips of speech, but what _are_ tips in tripe?"

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THE NEXT?

BOMBARDMENT OF LITTLE SHRIMPINGTON BY THE GERMAN FLEET.

(_Extract from a Report by the German Admiral._)

_Battle-cruiser_ "_Von Herod_."

SIR,--With regard to the recent magnificent and hoch-compelling exploit of the Imperial Squadron I have the honour to report as follows:--

Our battle-cruisers sighted the strongly-fortified sea-coast town of Little Shrimpington about 12.45, and at once opened a devastating fire. A hostile abbey, situated in a commanding position at the cliff top, and quite unmistakable (as at Whitby), was the first to fall. The shelling of this edifice, to which I learn that the Christians attach considerable importance, for some reason that I am unable to comprehend, cannot fail to produce lively satisfaction among our brave allies at Constantinople.

Next turning our guns upon the golf links, in fifteen rounds we put out of action a nine-hole course for ladies. Much confusion was observed here amongst the enemy; the presence of troops being proved by the movement of several bodies in bright scarlet. It is conjectured from this that the supply of khaki is already exhausted.

Magnificent execution was done upon the extensive sand castles with which the foreshore was covered, and for which indeed it is renowned throughout the island. Our heavy armament was in every case enabled to demolish these, at the same time slaughtering the children and nurses responsible for them. It is to be admitted however that at a more favourable season of the year the execution here, good as it was, would have been considerably better.

Altogether some five hundred shells were fired, as recently at Scarborough, and there can be no doubt that the enemy's casualties, in women especially, must be very considerable. In addition, he is known to have lost heavily in bathing-machines, and several super-rowing boats were seen to sink at their moorings.