Chapter 2

"At the beginning, when one was just a special constable, it didn't matter so much. I wore my badge and my armlet when I was on duty and sometimes when I was not. Even when I joined our Volunteer Corps I was not seriously embarrassed. After all, one could alternate the badges and the armlets and, at a pinch, wear them all together. Then I became an unskilled munition worker, which meant three badges and two armlets. At first I wore two on my overcoat and three inside. Then I would give some of them a rest, generally to find that I was wearing the wrong ones on the wrong occasions. Altogether it was very confusing."

"So far," I said with some sympathy, "I can follow you. I am myself an unskilled War Office clerk; but you have forgotten Lord DERBY'S armlet, which at the moment has the place of honour with me."

"No," he said, "I have that too. And I have another badge. I earned it on New Year's Day."

He took off his spectacles and rubbed them mechanically. It gave him a very detached appearance and he spoke gently, without malice.

"I have an aunt," he said, "by self-election, a most worthy woman, who was my mother's cousin. It came to her ears that I had become a teetotaler for the duration of the war. It appears that there is a badge for temporary teetotalers. She brought me one. She begged me with tears in her eyes to wear it. I remonstrated. I pointed out that if every public and private virtue is to be symbolised in this fashion, people with few vices and a willing heart would soon be perpetually in fancy-dress."

"And what happened?" I asked.

"I wavered for a time and then happily I found a way out. A few days ago it occurred to me that there must be other means, as yet untried, of advertising one's patriotism. I saw a notice in a restaurant I sometimes go to, 'No Germans or Austrians Employed Here.' 'Happy proprietor,' I said, 'who can so trumpet his honesty without increasing either his badges or his armlets!' The fact is that it set me thinking. Eventually I hit on a plan. It was very disappointing to my aunt, but it answers wonderfully."

"May I ask?" I said; "it might be useful."

"Oh, certainly, certainly. We have bought a little enamelled plate and had it fixed to our gate. You may have noticed it. It has the words, 'No Bottles.'"

* * * * *

THE MASCOT.

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THE WATCH DOGS.

MY DEAR CHARLES,--You didn't catch sight of any mention of me in despatches, did you? I have been rather too busy myself to read the list properly, but I did just have time to cast a casual eye over the "H's," and I didn't notice the name of "Henry" standing out in heavy-leaded capitals. It must be an inadvertence, of course. They must have said something about me, as, for instance: "Especially to be remarked is the noble altruism of Lieut. Henry, who on more than one march has been observed to take his pack, containing all his worldly goods, off his back and to hand it without ostentation to some lucky driver of a limber, saying, 'Take it, my lad; your need is greater than mine.'" Or again, referring to my later career: "The pen is mightier than the sword, but Lieut. Henry's indelible pencil, when engaged on official correspondence, is mightier than both." Or at least, at the very beginning of things, I'm quite sure the Mentioner devoted a passing phrase to me: "By the way, I have just received a consignment described on the Movement Order as 'Officer, one, Henry, Lieut.' Speaking frankly as between ourselves, what is it exactly? In any case I would gladly exchange for a dozen tins of bully beef."

Talking of despatches, I see that our old friend the Regimental Anarchist has not escaped notice. I never thought he would, for a less unnoticeable man I don't remember meeting. He is one of those big untidy fellows, very nice for purposes of war and all that, whom not the cleverest adjutant could manage to conceal on a ceremonial parade. His service equipment alone was notorious in the division. While we were still in England he and I used to share a billet. Every night the last thing I saw before going to sleep was the Anarchist trying on a new piece of personal furniture. He had at least a hundred aunts, and each of them had at least a hundred bright ideas; besides which few days went by but he paid a generous visit to the military outfitter. Never in my life shall I forget the sight of him during our last moments at home. While others were stuffing into themselves the last good meal they expected to taste for three years or the duration, he was putting on patent waterproof after patent waterproof. He stepped forth at last, sweating at every pore, and it wasn't raining at the time and didn't look like raining till next winter. The 38-lb. limit prevented his putting more than four coats into his valise, and his method of packing didn't economise space. If there had been any limit, however generous, to the amount of room an officer may occupy in the column of route we'd have had to go abroad without our Anarchist, and a much quieter and more respectable life we'd have had that way.

Even in our earliest days in B.E.F., when we were well behind the firing line, he started playing with fire. Thinking that we shared his low tastes he would gather us round him and lecture us on the black arts.--"This little fellow," he would say, fetching an infernal machine out of his pocket--"this little fellow is as safe as houses provided he has no detonator in his little head. But we will just make sure." A flutter of excitement would pass round the audience as he started unscrewing the top to make sure. "Of course," he'd continue, finding the screw a bit stiff and getting absorbed in his toy--"of course, if there _should_ happen to be a detonator inside, you have only to tickle it and almost anything may happen." While he'd be struggling with the screw, the front row of the audience would be shifting its ground to give the back rows a better view. "You can't be too careful," he'd say, passing it lightly from one hand to the other in order to search for his well-known clasp-knife, "for if you're not careful," he'd explain, tucking the bomb under his arm so as to have both hands free to open the knife--"if you're not careful," he'd say, suddenly letting go the knife in order to catch the bomb as it slid from his precarious hold--"if you're not very careful" (getting to real business with the murderous blade), "very--very--careful...." But none of us were ever near enough by that time to hear what would happen if we weren't (or even if he wasn't).

And then those strange nights in the trenches, when he and I used to be on duty together! I would be waiting in our luxurious, brightly-lit gin-palace of a dug-out for him to join me at our midnight lunch. He'd come in at last, clad in his fleece lining, the only survivor of his extensive collection of overcoats, its absence of collar giving him a peculiarly clerical look. He'd sit down to his cocoa, but hardly be started on the day before yesterday's newspaper (just arrived with the rations) before the private bombardment would begin. I would spring to attention; he would go on reading. "Hush!" I'd say. (Why "Hush!" I don't know.) "What's all that for?" "Me," he'd say, turning to the personal column. And then I'd know that, seizing the opportunity of being unobserved, he'd been out for nocturnal stroll with a handful of bombs, seeking a little innocent pleasure. The gentlemen opposite, not being cricketers themselves or knowing anything about the slow bowler, had, as usual, mistaken him for a trench mortar and were making a belated reply.

Only his servant accompanied him on these jaunts. He was a nice quiet villain, whose lust for adventure had, I always imagine, been long ago satisfied by a dozen or so gentle burglaries in his civilian past. He didn't want to kill people; his job in life was to keep his master alive and well fed. So when the latter went out bombing he thought he might as well go out with him, and occupy himself picking turnips for to-morrow's stew.

When the Anarchist wasn't distributing bombs he was collecting bullets. Being untidy by nature, he didn't particularly care where they hit him, provided they didn't damage his pipe. That was all he cared about, his lyddite and his tobacco. I often wonder how it was he didn't get the two habits of his life mixed up--fill a pipe with H.E., light it and finish off that way. But he didn't; he has just gone on collecting lead, letting it accumulate about his person until it got too heavy to be convenient and then resorting to the nearest hospital to have it removed. I hear he's there now, the result, I gather, of a bit of a show. It was his servant who was walking about that unhealthy field at that imprudent time and found him. One would like to paint a romantic picture of the meeting, but I doubt if there was much romance about it. I am quite sure all the Anarchist cared about was his tobacco pouch and all the servant was interested in was the further collection of vegetables, just in case.

I can see our Anarchist, lying in his little white bed in the hospital, surrounded by his sevenpenny racing novels (with or without covers), his tins of navy-cut (some empty, some full), his fleece lining, his compass, his socks, his field-glasses, his ties, his revolver and his last month's letters (some opened, some not), all jumbled happily together, with his ragged old shaving-brush reigning proudly in the midst. I doubt if he knows he's been "mentioned," for one could never get him to take interest in any news which wasn't "sporting"; possibly he is made suspicious by the uncomfortable presence of unopened telegrams in all corners of his bed. But one thing I do hope, and that is that this bed is, at any rate, not strewn, inside and out, with unexploded hand-grenades.

Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

WARFARE AT THE BARBER'S.

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PROVINCIAL PATRIOTS.

_From Jim Figgis, Whitty Bridge, to George Roberts, South Farm, Sudborough._

_Dec. 5th._ 1915.

DEAR GEORGE,--I hear the remount officer is coming round your part. I have a compact little bay horse, just the sort for the Army. We must all do our bit now, so here's our chance. The Vet says the horse has laminitis in his off fore foot, but it's all my eye. Anyhow he's the useful sort they require for the Army. They wouldn't look at me if I offered him, but you can get round them. Give me fifty quid and I'll send him over.

Your friend, J. FIGGIS.

_From George Roberts to Jim Figgis.

Dec. 7th,_ 1915.

DEAR JIM,--Yours to hand. No one can say that you're not a good patriot, and I won't be No. 2. But fifty quid for that little horse--not me. Say thirty and he's mine, sound or unsound.

Yours, G. ROBERTS.

_George Roberts to the Hon. Mordaunt Fopstone, White Lion Hotel, Sudborough._

_Dec. 10th,_ 1915.

DEAR SIR,--Hearing you are looking out for horses for the Army I write to say I have one or two which I shall be pleased to place at your disposal and at a very reasonable price, as in these times we must all give up something for the country. I shall be pleased to see you at any time convenient, except Tuesday, when I have to be at our local Agricultural Show.

Yours to command,

G. ROBERTS.

_From the Hon. Mordaunt Fopstone to George Roberts._

_Dec. 11th,_ 1915.

DEAR SIR,--Thank you for your letter. It is very satisfactory to find local people of your position anxious to help. I will call at your farm on Friday next and see the horses you refer to. With thanks,

Yours truly, M. FOPSTONE.

P.S.--I have been warned against a man named Figgis. Do you know him?

_From George Roberts to the Hon. Mordaunt Fopstone._

_Dec. 13th,_ 1915.

DEAR SIR,--Friday will suit me very well for your call, at any time you please. You are quite right to avoid Figgis; he is one of the small horse-dealing class who are a discredit to our country districts. Any further information is at your service.

Yours to command, G. ROBERTS.

_From the Hon. Mordaunt Fopstone to George Roberts._

_Dec. 21st_, 1915.

DEAR MR. ROBERTS,--I have now pleasure in enclosing cheque for £65 for bay horse. As stated to you when I called at South Farm, I was not in a position to go beyond £60 without further authorisation; this I have now obtained. Thanking you for the patriotic spirit you have shown in this little business,

Yours truly, M. FOPSTONE.

_From the Adjutant, Royal Beetshire Hussars, Tickful Camp, to Messrs. Davison Bros., The Mart, Southtown._

_Jan. 1st,_ 1916.

Please enter bay gelding, aged, sent herewith, in your next sale without reserve, as he is not sound and of no use to Army.

_Memo. from Davison Bros. to Adjutant._

_Jan. 17th_, 1916.

DEAR SIR,--Herewith please find cheque £5 4s. 3d. for bay gelding, being amount realised for same, less our commission and expenses.

Yours faithfully, DAVISON BROS.

* * * * *

_The Times_ heads an article, "Unity in the Air." It deals, however, with the new Anglo-French Aviation Conference and has nothing to do with the latest _Peter Pan_.

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GALLIPOLI-AND AFTER?

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

(Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.)

_House of Commons, Monday, January 10th_.--In spite of sharp rebuke administered by SPEAKER last week the PERTINACIOUS PRINGLE to the fore again--to be precise, to the _Forward_. This the name of weekly paper that is published in Clyde district, and has of late emerged from obscurity by "deliberately inciting workers," as LLOYD GEORGE said, "not to carry out Act of Parliament passed in order to promote the output of munitions." On motion for adjournment PRINGLE perceived opportunity of attacking MINISTER OF MUNITIONS. Accused him of suppressing the sheet because it had reported proceedings at meetings attended by him in Glasgow, at which his speech was interrupted by noisy minority. This course of procedure imitated by PRINGLE when LLOYD GEORGE, replying, quoted passages in the paper making violent attack on the KING and systematic attempts to stem flood of recruiting.

"These things," said the MINISTER, in passage loudly cheered, "meant life or death to our men in the field. They are not suitable matters for Parliamentary sport. We are dealing in tragedies. I am doing my best to save the men at the Front. I am entitled to be helped, not to be harried."

OUTHWAITE, coming to assistance of PRINGLE, otherwise prangling all forlorn, jumped upon by Captain CAMPBELL.

"If I had the Hon. Member in my battalion at the Front," he said, "he would be strung up by the thumbs before he had been there half-an-hour."

This scarcely Parliamentary; but it passed the Chair, leaving the gallant Captain, who modestly wears well-won ribbon of D.S.O., time to adjure the House to "get on with the War."

_Business done._--In House barely half full Motion carried calling upon Government to enter into consultation with the Overseas Dominions in order to bring economic strength of Empire into co-operation with our Allies in a policy directed against the enemy.

_Tuesday._--Said with truth that a speech in the House of Commons, however forcible and eloquent, rarely influences a vote. Some orators, however, have gift of stirring the soul to emotions that carry a man to actions beyond range of conventionality. Such an one is the Right Hon. THOMAS LOUGH, commonly and affectionately known through several Parliaments as "Tommy." One of small faction of Liberals who have not withdrawn opposition to Military Service Bill. Declaiming against it just now on motion for Second Reading, he described it as a sham.

"It is not true," he said, "that young unmarried men have held back. On the contrary they have come forward nobly and in great numbers."

Vindication of a maligned class so affected somebody seated in the Strangers' Gallery that he loudly clapped his hands. This a decided breach of order. The Assyrians (in form of Gallery attendants) came down upon him like a wolf on the fold. Ordered him to withdraw. He explained that he was so entirely at one with argument of the Hon. Member for West Islington that he preferred to remain to listen to continuance of his speech. Assyrians insistent on his immediate departure. Martial spirit of young unmarried man roused. Refused to budge. Whereupon the Assyrians, lifting him out of the seat, carried him forth _vi et armis_--free translation, by legs and arms.

From his seat below the Gangway Mr. FLAVIN watched procedure with wistful eyes. Remembered how towards break of day dawning on an all-night sitting held towards the close of last century he also was carried forth shoulder high, not by officers of the House in nice white shirt fronts, with glittering badges hung round their necks, but by the common or street policeman helmeted and belted. As he journeyed he sang, "God save Ireland," his compatriots, more or less attuned, joining in the chorus.

Recognition of historical incident sharply marks contrast in attitude of Irish Members then and now. Still fighting for Home Rule they stopped short of no outrage upon order, systematically and successfully obstructing public business. Military Service Bill offers enticing opportunities for exercise of old tactics. They might, if they pleased, keep House sitting for weeks fighting Bill in Committee line by line, word by word, as was their custom of an afternoon, and half-way through the night, in days of old. Other times other manners. Interposing early in debate JOHN REDMOND announced that his party, having made their protest against Bill in Division Lobby on First Reading, would withdraw from further opposition.

_Business done_--Second Reading of Military Service Bill moved.

_Wednesday._--Sir GEORGE REID, having completed term of service as High Commissioner of Australia, took his seat as Member for St. George's, Hanover Square. Carefully dismounting at Bar from his native steed he was introduced by BONAR LAW, Unionist Colonial Secretary, and HARCOURT, Colonial Secretary in late Liberal Government. This concatenation of circumstance, testifying to universal esteem and exceptional personal popularity, unique in Parliamentary records.

New-comer will serve in double capacity. Nominally Member for St. George's, he will also be Member for Australia, an innovation that will probably have wider scope and formal recognition when the Overseas Dominions have completed their splendid work of helping the Mother Country to bring the War to triumphant conclusion.

GEORGE REID'S career on a new stage will be watched with keen interest in his two antipodal homes. Since, six years ago, he came to London, he has acquired the reputation of being one of the best after-dinner speakers of the day. How will the qualities that ensure success in that direction serve him at Westminster? MACAULAY truly said, "The House of Commons is the most peculiar audience in the world. A place in which I would not promise success to any man."

The MEMBER FOR SARK puts his money (or such portion as is left after paying War taxes) on the Member for St. George's, Hanover Square-_cum_-Australia.

Debate on Second Reading of Military Service Bill resumed. Best thing said during two days' talk was an incidental remark of BIRRELL'S. Relating history of Bill in Cabinet he said he had felt it his duty to say something about Ireland.

"What I said," he added, "is of course known only to those of my colleagues who were sitting round the table and to such representatives of the London Press as were sitting underneath it."

This hint explains mystery clouding the fact that whilst the secrets of Cabinet Councils are held to be inviolable there are morning papers able habitually to give detailed information of what passes behind the locked and barred doors.

_Business done._--Second Reading of Military Service Bill carried by 431 votes against 39.

_Thursday._--After advancing three minor Government Bills a stage, House adjourned at 5.30.

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* * * * *

* * * * *

THE OFFICIAL STYLE.

Extract from an Indian Service register:--

"Service Order 41 of 1914, dated 16-10-14. He was appointed acting Forest Guard and posted to Surumoni beat, in place of Chowdri Zaicko, Forest Guard, who was devoured by a tiger with effect from the forenoon of 16th Oct. 1914."

* * * * *

AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT.

Here where the world is quiet except for the noise of the rain trickling into one's valise through the nooks and crannies of one's rustic apartment--here where there is no peril from above and no peril from in front, neither peril of enfilade, here too--it is a Base I am doing this sentence about--we have our problems.

To begin with there is the glorious uncertainty of things. Some men are here to-day and the far side of Wipers to-morrow night. Others arrive from England thirsting for all sorts of things that no sane man ever wants to have anything to do with, and are kept doing a bomb course and a machine-gun course on alternate days for eight months. There is a tale told of one such who, when he was finally sent to the trenches, was returned as hopeless after three days because he would do nothing except sit beside a machine gun trying to fill the belt with grenades. There is no sadder story in the War.

Now if I knew for certain that I was going to be here eight months I could marry and settle down. Or if I knew for certain I was for Wipers to-morrow night I could make a new will--not that there's anything the matter with the old one, but I met a man on leave who put me up to some good tips in will-making--and settle up. But as it is part of our military system for junior officers not to know anything I dare not even have my letters forwarded.