British and American Recruits
[Illustration: Horse Guard on duty at headquarters, London.]
The British soldier as he appears in the streets of London is the
finest thing to look at in the military world. Although to the unused
American eye most of these beings seem to be a little theatric in
appearance, they are all that could be desired in uniform, build,
and military bearing. In a nation of big men they have been chosen
primarily for their height and their chest measurement, and they can
scarcely be criticised for the somewhat exaggerated jauntiness which
betrays a consciousness of their superior looks.
On the other hand, the American soldier as he is seen in the streets
of a garrison city is not marked by either self-consciousness or
noticeable bigness. His uniform is not showy, although it fits well,
and the man inside of it is well set up; he is wiry, spry, and although
of soldierly bearing, is more to be remarked for his alertness of
movement. You would never think of calling him a magnificent creature;
the keen face under the visored cap might be that of a young mechanic,
business man, or student who had learned how to wear a uniform easily.
The recruit of the British army is chosen on physical grounds, and
his obvious proportions seem to have been particularly desired. The
American soldier, as we see him, talk with him, and hear what his
officers have to say of him, seems to have obtained his place because
he is a good all-around man, with no more muscle than intelligence, and
with soundness of teeth considered as important as extensiveness of
height.
The recruiting of the British army is admirably managed by some of the
cleverest sergeants in the service. They must be able to tell at a
glance whether an applicant is likely to pass an examination, and then
they must paint the glories and possibilities of a soldier’s life in
sufficiently alluring colors to persuade the prospective recruit to
accept the “King’s shilling.”
The recruiting of the British army is always an interesting feature
of the military life of London, and one may see it any week-day
morning under the walls of the gallery opposite the church of
St.-Martin’s-in-the-Fields. This church is on the upper edge of
Trafalgar Square, in the busiest part of the city, and from nine
o’clock in the morning the work goes on all day. The various branches
of the service place signboards on the fence of the gallery court, upon
which are hung bills that set forth in glowing language the advantages
to be gained by enlisting in this or that service; also stating the
requirements, pay, and allowances. All these boards are hung side by
side, and there is an unwritten law that should a man be reading or
looking at one board, the sergeant representing another branch of the
service, or another regiment, is not permitted to speak to him until he
has passed on. As soon as he has left the board, any of the recruiting
officers is at liberty to speak to him.
There are from ten to twenty non-commissioned officers on duty at this
place every morning; they are the finest types of men in the British
service, and always appear in their best uniforms. They nearly all have
the rank of sergeant-major, consequently their uniforms glitter with
gold lace and attract the youth who have an eye for the military. One
old sergeant-major is a particularly conspicuous character, being a
veteran of the Crimea. He is a very old man, has been seen at this same
spot, on the same service, for many years, and has become as well known
to the Londoner as the very buildings themselves. His hair and beard
are snow-white, and the years of campaigning have left their mark on
his face; but his step is as youthful and elastic as that of any of the
younger men on the same duty, and on his breast are the medals of many
wars, most of them being ribbons one never sees except at Chelsea. He
is the most energetic man on the recruiting detail, and he very seldom
makes an error as to the eligibility of an applicant.
[Illustration: Possible candidates.]
[Illustration: Persuasion by sergeant-major.]
All day long the passers-by are scanned by these sharp old soldiers,
and are invited to join the forces of the empire and attain the glory
that, according to the “sar’-major,” is sure to be his portion. The
dignity with which the recruiting is done is very pleasing, for these
officers, uncommissioned though they be, wear their uniforms with the
grace of a major-general. When they approach a man, they do so with an
air of authority, in a straightforward manner, and although they depict
the attractions of the service beguilingly, they seldom attempt to
gain a recruit against his will. Most of those who loiter about the
boards come with their minds made up to enlist, and do not need any
great amount of persuasion. The grade of recruits taken in this manner
is said to be rather low, as they are generally of the class that does
not like to work, and has a mistaken idea that a soldier has an easy
life.
Another method of recruiting the British army is by “recruiting
marches” through the rural districts. With their most attractive
uniforms, colors flying, and music piping, a battalion makes the entry
into a town on their march in such engaging style that many of the
youths of the place are sure to cast their lot with the army on the
impulse of the moment; and in this way some of the best men are found,
as in Great Britain the country lad seems to make the best soldier.
In the United States it has not been found necessary to resort to
these expedients to gain recruits. The recruiting offices in time of
peace show a small but steady stream of callers; they are not from
the degraded classes, nor are they ignorant men; they are young men
of various social grades who, in many cases, have been advised by
older men to enter the army, or who think they see in its discipline,
regularity of life, and opportunity for promotion a promising opening
for three years of trial.
The rigidity of the examinations is in itself an attraction to the
young American. There is no other line of work for which he must submit
to such searching competitive tests as he finds in the recruiting
office. Physically he must be perfect; unsoundness of eye, ear, lung,
heart, liver, skin, limbs, extremities, or any other defect, will debar
him no less than would his inability to read and write.
There is also in the United States a continual fostering of the
military spirit among the youth by means of the cadet corps in the
public and private schools. Again, the fact that so many boys in
America are taught to ride and shoot has its natural influence in
leading large numbers of them to think of the army. The patriotic
instruction and the devotion to the flag which are now so prominent a
feature in the public schools, have also an influence in turning the
minds of many young men to the national service.
Two exceedingly strong attractions which the American army presents,
and which are lacking in the British army, are the inducements of
good pay and of promotion. The English recruit enlists for a period
of twelve years, without the opportunity of ever becoming more than a
non-commissioned officer, and for the sum of twenty-four cents a day;
while the American enlists for three years, with the possibility of
becoming lieutenant-general commanding the army, and for pay which,
including ration and clothing allowance, a portion of which thrifty men
can commute into cash, amounts to at least one dollar a day, and from
that up to three dollars and a half a day, together with twenty per
cent. increase on all pay for active service. The American government
provides that the paymaster shall take charge of any funds that the
men do not wish to draw, and it pays a high rate of interest on these
deposits. Thus, large numbers of our men have saved several thousand
dollars out of their pay, and yet have lived well and had money to
spend all the time.
The chief spur, however, that acts on the enlisted man in the army
of the United States is not the money, but the possibility that some
day he may become an officer. To commission an officer from the ranks
in the British army is almost unheard of; while, on the contrary, a
large number of the American non-commissioned officers and men receive
their straps every year. The one thing that I could never make an
English officer understand was that it is possible for our government
to commission men from the ranks. They could appreciate how these men
might be fully qualified as to their military knowledge, but they
could not comprehend how it would be possible for the West Pointer to
associate with them or to meet them on an equal footing in society.
They could not understand that many of the men in the ranks are in
the same station in life as are the West Point graduates. That social
possibility is the result of different conditions. Many officers’ sons
who wish to follow in the footsteps of their fathers are not fortunate
enough to obtain an appointment to the Academy; these boys always
enlist, and, to the credit of our government, they rarely fail to get
a commission if they can qualify in the examinations.
[Illustration: British recruits at fencing practice.]
[Illustration: British recruits at bayonet practice.]
Moreover, the breeding as well as the intelligence of many of the men
accepted for enlistment is of the same kind that is required of the
applicants at West Point. In an army where every recruit must be able
at least to read and write, it is impossible to find, even among the
colored troops, any of that low-bred class of men which exists in large
numbers in the British army. Before the war with Spain, when the army
was on a peace footing, there were about five applicants for every
vacancy; consequently the recruiting officer could choose with care,
and an exceptionally high class of men entered the regular army.
It is a rare circumstance that puts a gentle-born Englishman into the
ranks, and the discredit he suffers for enlisting is deep indeed; for
soldiers and servants in England stand on the same footing. In the
continental nations of Europe soldiering, while it is disliked, is
considered as a matter of course, because it is compulsory upon all men
to serve. But in England, where the service is voluntary, the private
rank is not a nice place for the upper classes.
In New York, in Boston, in Chicago, it is not impossible to see the
private’s blouse at a tea function or across the table at dinner, in
the most refined society; after the instant’s surprise at seeing the
insignia of the common soldier, it is remembered that he is present
in his own right, irrespective of uniform, and he is admired for his
unostentatious service of the flag.
Once a charming Larchmont belle told me, with the greatest pride, that
she had a brother who was a soldier, and she showed me his picture.
There were no straps on the shoulders, and the collar of his blouse was
turned down.
“He is a private in the Seventh Artillery,” she said; “regulars, you
know; and some day he will be an officer.”
“Some day ... an officer” tells the whole story; it indicates one of
the vital differences between the British and the American soldier.
When the former enlists in the army, he knows he will never get beyond
a “non-com.;” while many of those who cast in their lot with the United
States forces, do so with the anticipation that eventually they may
hold the President’s commission.
At the outbreak of the South African War I met a young Englishman in
London who was bubbling over with patriotic enthusiasm, and whose fixed
idea was to go to the war, and to go quickly before it was over; but
he told me that he had almost given up all hope of getting there, as
he had exhausted every possible means of accomplishing his desire. He
had been to the War Office to see every one, from Sir Evelyn Wood down;
and although he was a relative of the Duke of Devonshire, and swung a
great deal of influence, he could not make it; and yet he said that he
“simply _must_ go.”
“If you really want to go so much, why do you not enlist?” I asked.
“What! go as a Tommy?” he exclaimed; “why, I could not do that.”
And, as a matter of fact, he could not, since the feeling against
such a course is so strong that even in time of war it would not be
countenanced by his social judges. I saw him again in the later months
of the war, and he had attained his desire by going to the Cape on his
own responsibility and recruiting a troop of colonials, afterwards
receiving a commission to command it.
There are instances where men of social standing have enlisted in the
British army, but they are very rare in comparison with those of the
same class who answered the President’s call to arms at the beginning
of the war with Spain; men who joined not only the volunteer branches
of the American army, but who enlisted in large number as privates in
the regular service.
General Hector Macdonald is an interesting exception in the British
system. He rose from the ranks, and is to-day one of the best officers
of the generals’ staff, and is loved, feared, and respected by his men.
For these various reasons it is easy to see why the personnel of
the rank and file of the American army is much higher than that of
the British. This is conspicuously true in the matter of mental
attainments. In our army it is rare to find a man who is not fairly
well educated, while the majority of the men in the ranks are
considerably enlightened. There is not one illiterate man in the whole
enlisted force.
On the other hand, the British army is dismally low in its standard of
literacy. In the official report published in 1899, the illiterateness
of the recruits receives scathing comment; only forty-five in one
thousand were fairly educated; eighteen per cent. were utterly
illiterate.
The same attractions tend to secure for the American army a larger
proportion of healthy applicants than apply for admission in the
British service. The official report which I have just quoted also
states that thirty-five per cent. of all applicants for enlistment in
the British army have to be rejected for physical disability.
In treating this subject before the United Service Institution in
London, in 1899, Colonel Douglas, of the Royal service, described the
recruits from the north, or country districts, as “sallow, downcast,
nondescript youths, mostly artisans.” Regarding the recruits in
general, he said: “It is significant that a good set of teeth is rare,
except among the agricultural recruits. The old recruiting sergeant
would have laughed at the recruits of to-day; the army of the past
had in it many blackguards, but few degenerates. These are depressing
conclusions, but it must be remembered that this refers to our peace
army, which is recruited from the half-starved offscourings of the
streets. The physique of the men who are offering themselves to-day,
in time of war, is very different from this. There are shoals of
Englishmen who cannot stand the drudgery and discipline of the ranks
in time of peace, but who flock to the standard as soon as there is a
chance of fighting. The recruiting sergeants say that nearly all of
the material they are getting at present is of a better class. These
men want to fight for the love of fighting, and not as a refuge from
starvation. A few weeks of training licks them into shape. As long as
the outbreak of war affords such a stimulus to recruiting as this,
there is no need to despair of the British race.”
But as conditions now exist in both countries, England has much more
difficulty in filling her ranks in time of peace than is encountered
here. Her army is vastly larger than ours, and its attractions are
vastly inferior. There is, accordingly, no ground for surprise that
both in mental attainments and soundness of body the American recruit
is measured by a higher standard; and it is not strange that the
British government has such trouble in persuading enough men to enter
the ranks that almost any sort of able-bodied man would be accepted.
Most of the field musicians of the British regiments are mere boys,
twelve to fifteen years of age; these youth are enlisted regularly into
the army. The American forces employ grown men for the same service,
but the difficulty in obtaining men makes such a force impossible in
England.
Once a man has been enlisted, however, in the British army, no pains
are spared to make him as good as the best of soldiers--not only in a
physical sense, but also in the training of his brains.
[Illustration: 1. A musician of the Gordon Highlanders, age, seventeen.
2. A Boer fighting “man,” age, twelve. Twice distinguished for bravery
in action. He fought at Spion Kop, Colenso, Dundee, and Ladysmith.]
As soon as the British recruit is accepted he is turned over to the
drill sergeant, who proceeds to make a soldier of him; and in all the
world no better man exists than the British drill sergeant for the
special line of duty of whipping recruits into shape. He does nothing
else, and consequently becomes very proficient at his calling. These
drill masters are all alike; to see one is to see all. He is a species
of soldier by himself, and there is nothing like him that I have
ever seen. He does for the British army the work that is done by the
subaltern officer of the American army. He is by no means gentle,
but he is not unnecessarily severe, as is the German or French drill
master; he merely understands his men better than any other master, and
consequently gets better results from them in a shorter space of time.
He takes a slouching youth, of slovenly gait, from Whitechapel, and in
an incredibly short time turns him out into Hyde Park a dashing young
soldier, or sends him to the Cape in khaki, as willing a fighter as can
be found.
I have seen a German drill master strike a recruit for some trifling
mistake or inattention; I have heard a Frenchman curse his squad by all
the saints in the calendar; but I know of nothing half so effective as
the quiet sarcasm that the English or Irish drill sergeant can command
when he is completely out of patience with an awkward “rookie”; it is
more deadly than oaths or blows; it always accomplishes the end. Up to
the present, the British army has been almost built, trained, and run
by non-commissioned officers, many of whom are superior to the officers
over them in all but birth and breeding. These rankers are capable of
commanding in so far as capability depends upon understanding every
detail of their profession.
The majority of the English recruits are sent to the great camp at
Aldershot, which is a camp only in name; for in reality it is a
superb expanse of land, covered with perfectly appointed barracks and
well-laid parades. At this training station the work of the young
soldier begins in earnest, and for the better part of four months he
is drilled, trained, and instructed in all branches of soldiering.
The most interesting part of his work is that done in the gymnasium.
The average English recruit does not carry himself in the manner of a
soldier to the degree that an untrained American does, so that a more
rigid training than in the United States is necessary. Moreover, the
idea of the proper carriage of a soldier is so vastly different in the
two countries that it is difficult to draw a comparison which will be
understood by one who is not familiar with both armies. In the British
army the old-time conventional idea of soldierly appearance still
dominates the discipline; in the American army this idea is not absent,
and I hope it may never depart; but nevertheless, the prevailing aim is
to subordinate everything to simple effectiveness. Broadly speaking,
therefore, one is tempted to say that the British soldier is trained
for show, while the American is trained for comfort, for work, and for
general usefulness.
The gymnasium at Aldershot is the best-equipped establishment of its
kind that I have ever seen; there is nothing lacking that could add to
the physical training of the recruits sent there for their preliminary
teaching. For one hundred and ten days each recruit has one hour a
day devoted exclusively to athletics, and in that time he is made
to exercise in walking, running, climbing, boxing, fencing, and is
instructed in the use of the bayonet. The men scale high walls and
clamber over lofty scaffolding at double time; they go up and down
swinging ladders and hanging ropes.
The headquarters gymnasium is just outside of the little town of
Aldershot, among the miles of barracks that quarter so many thousands
of the British army.
It is a large brick building, recently put up, and contains every
appliance known to athletic training, most of the apparatus having
been imported from New York. The interior is bright and airy,
handsomely decorated with flags, stands of arms, and trophies, making
an attractive room in which to work. Just at the left is a smaller
building for instruction in the use of the sabre and foil. Surrounding
the buildings are large fields for out-of-door exercise, one side being
a turf parade for walking, running, jumping, and the many drills in
the use of the arms and legs. When the weather permits, the classes
in bayonet, single-stick, and dumb-bells are taken to this field. On
the other side of the buildings are all sorts of stationary apparatus
similar to that inside; on that side also there are walls to scale,
heights to climb, besides the ordinary bars and ladders. The best
apparatus that the recruits use is a great frame that looks as if some
one had started to build a house, and dropped the work as soon as the
scaffolding had been finished. It is a square framework about fifty
feet high and forty feet wide; from it hang ropes, ladders, poles,
sliding-boards, and all kinds of devices by which ascent and descent
can be made. The apparatus is of great value in training the eye as
well as the muscle, for the recruits are put over it at double time,
and the slightest false step would mean a bad fall and broken bones.
It was the invention of Colonel the Hon. J. S. Napier, who has been
in command at the gymnasium for some time, and to whose efforts are
due the perfection of the system of training given, not only to the
recruits, but also to all officers and men who care to continue their
physical training.
[Illustration: 1. Colonel Napier’s frame for recruit-drill at
Aldershot.]
[Illustration: 2. One of the exercises in British recruit-drill.]
The most useful drill given to recruits is the use of the “shelf.”
This, as the name indicates, is a huge shelf on the side of the
gymnasium wall. It is so high that a man cannot reach it as he stands
on the floor, and to mount it he must have the assistance of one or
more of his companions. The aim of the shelf drill is to train the men
to go over walls and obstacles where there is nothing for them to use
in pulling themselves up. In working together, one man makes a rest
of his hands and gives to his comrade a “boost”; then the man thus
assisted clambers up to the shelf, and turning, pulls up the man below
him.
The American recruit is handed over to a subaltern officer, who is
usually not long from West Point, and is fresh with the athletic
enthusiasm and methods of the Academy. He takes the place of the
British drill sergeant. He tramps side by side with the awkward
recruit, and orders him to do nothing which he himself is not able to
do in a perfected manner. This fact of itself establishes a wholesome
and trusting relation between the enlisted man and his officer. The man
looks up to his superior as to an instructor and parent. He learns to
regard him not merely as his fugleman for parades and campaigns, but
also as his preceptor, who knows him thoroughly and takes an interest
in him. The motto of the American army is that the officer is the
father of his men.
The young recruit gains his first comprehension of this as he is worked
upon by his young superior in shoulder-straps. No familiarity is
permitted; the etiquette is as rigid and unremitting as in any European
army; the orders are stiff and stern; and yet the fact remains in the
soldier’s mind, through his entire service, that his officer labored
patiently over him for months, to impart to him from his own rich store
of self-command and high bearing, of physical cleverness and military
skill. The man never forgets his place, nor his officer’s either.
The American recruit receives a thorough course in all kinds of
athletic drill, riding, fencing, walking, running. Especial attention
is given to the “setting-up” exercises; these consist of a series
of movements of arms, legs, and body which involve all the motions
which are called for in any military action. The turning of the arms,
raising and lowering them, propulsive motions, the limbering of the
joints--every movement that can contribute to facility of action is a
part of this extraordinary discipline.
[Illustration: Setting-up exercises of American soldiers during their
visit in Malta.]
[Illustration: Recruit drill in the British army.]
Beyond this, and of most practical moment, is the American recruit’s
training in making temporary trenches with bayonet and tin plate; in
seizing and using temporary protections; in shooting from behind trees,
rocks, hillocks, while showing as little of his body as possible. The
consequence of this drill is that when in battle the American soldier
can manage himself without depending on orders, and is an expert
fighter.
In South Africa the British regulars could not be asked to make even
temporary entrenchments; they had to wait for the engineer corps to
come up and lay them out and dig them. But a company of American
troops, with only the implements they carry, can scrape up a pile of
dirt in front of them in less than five minutes sufficient to serve as
their fort in an all-day battle.
The charge by rushes which the British had to learn on the battlefield
is the trick which the American recruit is taught before he leaves the
awkward squad. In this resourcefulness and practicality the colonial
troops in the South African campaign were by many points superior to
the British regulars, and showed that they had been trained to some
extent by the same methods that have been found so effective for the
American recruit.