We were "standing easy" prior to the assault on the undefended heights
of Spanker's Hill when the voice of the platoon-commander disturbed
our thoughts of home and loved ones, and particularly of our Sunday
dinners, which would be very much out of season before we could get at
them.
"Number 4," he said, in a tone that thrilled us to the bottom twist of
our puttees, "these Body-Snatchers (thus coarsely he alluded to the
Ambulance Section) have been following us all day and haven't had a
single casualty so far. That is why, in the coming advance, I shall be
wounded. Sergeant, you will take over the command, should the worst
befall. Smith and Williams, as you are both big and heavy, you'd
better be knocked out too."
It was with mingled feelings that I heard my name mentioned. In the
first place, a feeling of annoyance was engendered at having my
proportions thus publicly referred to. But other, and I trust
worthier, thoughts came to me, and, turning to my neighbour, I gave
him a few last messages of a suitably moving nature to be delivered to
my friends. The kind-hearted fellow was deeply affected, and in a
voice broken by emotion offered to take charge of my loose change, and
asked for my watch as a keepsake. I thanked him with tears in my eyes,
but said that the burial party would forward all my valuables to my
relations.
Our conversation was interrupted by the command "Platoon--'SHUN. To
the left, to six paces, ex-TEND." By an oversight the preliminary
formation usually adopted as a precaution against artillery had been
omitted, and in a moment we were advancing up the hill in open order.
Scarcely had we started when our officer, the pride of the platoon,
threw up his hands and fell. A moment later, chancing on a piece of
tempting grass, I decided to lie down, and with a choking gurgle
collapsed. As I lay on my back in an appropriate attitude (copied from
the cinema) I wondered when the stretcher-party would appear, for the
grass was damp and the April wind was chilly; but it was not long
before a bright boy, rather over than under military age, ran up and,
after a brief glance at me, began to signal with great vigour. He
meant well, and out of consideration for his feelings I restrained a
desire to tell him that he was creating a beastly draught. However, I
asked him if he had any brandy, and, on receiving an answer in the
negative, groaned deeply.
"Are you very bad?" he asked.
"No," I replied; "but if I lie here much longer I'll catch cold. Tell
your people to hurry up."
When the stretcher-party arrived they decided that I had been shot in
the chest, and, to get at the wound, began to remove my garments, till
arrested by some virile language thrown off from the part affected.
Then they began to carry me towards the gate of the park, despite the
fact that the stretcher had been meant to hold someone about six
inches shorter than I. Almost immediately the rear man, tripping on a
root, fell on top of me, and the front man, being brought to a sudden
stop, sat on my feet. When we had sorted ourselves out, and I had
stopped talking, more from lack of breath than of matter, we resumed
our journey.
After a matter of some three hundred yards the bearers began to feel
tired, and, suddenly rolling me off the stretcher, they informed me
that I was discharged as cured. Thus rapidly does a soldier of the
Volunteers recover. It speaks volumes not only for their high state of
physical condition but for the resilience of their _moral_.
* * * * *
Intelligent Anticipation.
"Bucharest, 8.--The 'Universul' has opened a list of
subscriptions in favour of the widows and victims of the
coming Austro-Roumanian war."--_Balkan News._
* * * * *
"'WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD' AT THE ---- PICTURE
THEATRE."--_Hastings Observer._
The management doesn't mind so long as the fools rush in.
* * * * *
"The Smyth-Pigotts are the owners of Brockley Court and
Brockley Hall, near Congresbury, a pretty village which--like
Majoribanks--is pronounced Coomesbury."--_Daily Sketch._
Just as, according to the old story, Cholmondeley is pronounced
Marjoribanks.
* * * * *
"Monster Carnival! In aid of Returned Soldiers' Association.
Novel Attractions!!! Realistic Egyptian Pillage, just as our
soldiers saw it. Egyptian goods can be purchased
here."--_Adelaide Register._
We hope this does not mean that our gallant Anzacs have been spoiling
the Egyptians.
* * * * *
"A LADY would like to let her beautifully furnished HOUSE or
part, or three or four paying guests; from L2 10s. each."
_Bournemouth Daily Echo._
We have heard of paying guests whom their hosts would have been glad
to part with at an even lower figure.
* * * * *
"Notice.--Found, a Broadwood Piano. Apply, Barrack Warden,
No. 1, Barrack Store, ---- Barracks."--_Aldershot Command
Orders._
We think some recent criticism of Army administration is undeserved.
Care is evidently taken in regard to even little things carelessly
left about by the soldier.
* * * * *
"When the election does come there will be no need to ask
these useless M.P.'s to resign. They can be kicked out, and
there are plenty of workmen in the country who are ready to
lend a hand at the kicking. The genuine Labour M.P. is known
now, so also is the impostor, who, like the party hack, hails
from nowhere."
_Letter in "The Times."_
We suppose the manual kick, as described above, is the non-party hack.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SERBIA COMES AGAIN.