I
The last few days have afforded us an excellent opportunity of
studying the habits of that ubiquitous attendant of our movements, the
Staff Officer.
He is not always a real Staff Officer--the kind that wears a red
hatband. Sometimes he is an obvious "dug-out," with a pronounced
_embonpoint_ or a game leg. Sometimes he is a mere stripling, with a
rapidly increasing size in hats. Sometimes he is an ordinary human
being. But whoever he is, and whatever his age or rank, one thing is
certain. He has no mean: he is either very good or very bad. When he
is good he is very good indeed, and when he is bad he is horrid. He is
either Jekyll or Hyde.
Thrice blessed, then, is that unit which, upon its journey to the
seat of war, encounters only the good of the species. To transfer a
thousand men, with secrecy and despatch, from camp to train, from
train to ship, from ship to train, and from train to a spot near the
battle line, is a task which calls for the finest organisation and the
most skilful administration. Let it be said at once that our path to
our present address has been almost universally lined with Jekylls.
The few Hydes whom we have encountered are by this time merely a
subject for amusing anecdote.
As for the organisation of our journey--well, it was formulated upon
Olympus, and was marked by those Olympian touches of which mention has
been previously made. For instance, immense pains were taken, by means
of printed rules and official memoranda, to acquaint us with the
procedure to be followed at each point of entrainment or embarkation.
Consequently we set out upon our complicated pilgrimage primed with
explicit instructions and ready for any emergency. We filled up forms
with countless details of our equipment and personnel, which we knew
would delight the heart of the Round Game Department. We divided our
followers, as directed, into Loading Parties, and Ration Parties, and
Hold Parties, and many other interesting subdivisions, as required by
the rules of the game. But we had reckoned without the Practical Joke
Department. The Round Game Department having furnished us with one set
of rules, the Practical Joke Department prepared another, entirely
different, and issued them to the officers who superintended such
things as entrainment and embarkation. At least, that is the most
charitable explanation of the course of action adopted by the few Mr.
Hydes whom we encountered.
Two of these humorists linger in the memory. The first was of the type
which is admiringly referred to in commercial circles as a hustler.
His hustling took the form of beginning to shout incomprehensible
orders almost before the train had drawn up at the platform. After
that he passed from party to party, each of which was working
strenuously under its own sergeant, and commanded them (not the
sergeant) to do something else, somewhere else--a course of action
naturally calculated to promote unity and celerity of action all
round. A perspiring sergeant who ventured to point out that his party
were working under the direct orders of their Company Commander, was
promptly placed under arrest, and his flock enjoyed a welcome and
protracted breathing-space until an officer of sufficient standing
to cope with Mr. Hyde--unfortunately he was Major Hyde--could be
discovered and informed.
The second required more tactful handling. As our train-load drew
up at the platform, the officer in charge--it was Captain Blaikie,
supported by Bobby Little--stepped out, saluted the somewhat rotund
Colonel Hyde whom he saw before him, and proffered a sheaf of papers.
"Good-morning, sir," he said. "Here is my train statement. Shall I
carry on with the unloading? I have all my parties detailed."
The great man waved away the papers magnificently. (To be just, even
the Jekylls used to wave away our papers.)
"Take those things away," he commanded, in a voice which made it plain
that we had encountered another hustler. "Burn them, if you like! Now
listen to me. Tell off an officer and seventy men at once."
"I have all the necessary parties detailed already, sir."
"Will you listen to me?" roared the Colonel. He turned to where
Captain Blaikie's detachment were drawn up on the platform, "Take the
first seventy men of that lot, and tell them to stand over there,
under an officer."
Captain Blaikie gave the necessary order.
"Now," continued Colonel Hyde, "tell them to get the horses out and
on board that steamer at once. The rest of your party are to go by
another steamer. See?"
"Yes, sir, perfectly. But--"
"Do you understand my order?" thundered the Colonel, with increasing
choler.
"I do, sir," replied Blaikie politely, "but--"
"Then, for heaven's sake, carry on!"
Blaikie saluted.
"Very good, sir," he answered. "Mr. Little, come with me."
He turned upon his heel and disappeared rapidly round a corner,
followed by the mystified Bobby.
Once out of the sight of the Colonel, Captain Blaikie halted, leaned
against a convenient pillar, and lit a cigarette.
"And what do you think of that?" he inquired.
Bobby told him.
"Quite so," agreed Blaikie. "But what you say helps nobody, though
doubtless soothing to the feelings. Now listen, Bobby, and I will
give you your first lesson in the Tactical Handling of Brass Hats.
Of course we might do as that dear old gentleman suggests, and send
seventy horses and mules on a sea voyage in charge of a party of
cooks, signallers, and machine-gunners, and let the grooms and drivers
go with the bicycles and machine-guns and field kitchens. But I don't
think we will. Nobody would enjoy the experiment much--except perhaps
the mules. No: we will follow the golden rule, which is: When given an
impossible job by a Brass Hat, salute smartly, turn about, and go and
wait round a corner for five minutes. Then come back and do the job in
a proper manner. Our five minutes are up: the coast should be clear.
Come along, Bobby, and help me to exchange those two parties."
But we encountered surprisingly few Hydes. Nearly all were
Jekylls--Jekylls of the most competent and courteous type. True,
they were inclined to treat our laboriously completed returns with
frivolity.
"Never mind those things, old man," they would say. "Just tell me who
you are, and how many. That's right: now I know all about you. Got
your working parties fixed up? Good! They ought to have everything
cleared in a couple of hours. I'll see that a ration of hot tea is
served out for them. Your train starts at a quarter past seven this
evening--remember to call it nineteen-fifteen, by the way, in this
country--and you ought to be at the station an hour before the time.
I'll send you a guide. What a fine-looking lot these chaps of yours
are! Best lot I've seen here for a very long time. Working like
niggers, too! Now come along with me for ten minutes and I'll show you
where to get a bite of breakfast. Expect you can do with a bit!"
That is Brass-Hat Jekyll--officer and gentleman; and, to the eternal
credit of the British Army, be it said that he abounds in this
well-conducted campaign. As an instance of his efficiency, let the
case of our own regiment be quoted. The main body travelled here by
one route, the transport, horses, and other details by another. The
main body duly landed, and were conveyed to the rendezvous--a distant
railway junction in Northern France. There they sat down to await
the arrival of the train containing the other party; which had left
England many hours before them, had landed at a different port, and
had not been seen or heard of since.
They had to wait exactly ten minutes!
"Some Staff--what?" as the Adjutant observed, as the train lumbered
into view.