CHAPTER XVII

ENTER THE NEW ARMY

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which

is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under

the sun.”--ECCLES. 1. 9.

The public at large first heard of the arrival of the New Army at the

front through the Commander-in-Chief’s Despatch, published on July 12,

covering the second battle of Ypres and the military operations down

to the end of May. In that Despatch Sir John French announced that,

since the date of his last report, several divisions of the New Army

had arrived in France, and added that their physique was excellent, and

that their bearing and appearance on parade reflected great credit on

the officers and staffs responsible for their training.

But there were many homes in England in which this carefully guarded

secret had long been known--in fact, ever since the sinister spectre of

the war had crept into the house on the sudden departure of husband,

son, or brother for the port of embarkation. Imagination, quickly

stirred by love, pictured the young soldier landed in post-haste in

France, and forthwith marched into the trenches--into battle.

I met one of the first divisions of the New Army to come out to France

within a few days of its landing. I fell in with it, indeed, at the

end of its very first march towards the front from the railhead, where

it had detrained on its journey up from the coast base. One of its

battalions came into the little village where the war correspondents

had their camp.

It was a picture that will not soon fade from my memory, the files

of wet and mud-stained Highlanders tramping in through the gathering

twilight, their baggage-carts and field-kitchens rumbling along behind.

Their transport seemed strangely spick-and-span under its layer of

yellow splashings from the road, and then, reading on the side of

a cart the inscription, giving number and name of the battalion, I

realized with a thrill that this was the New Army.

With what fresh interest I looked at those men again! The smiles and

tears of a thousand homes seemed to wreathe themselves about those

fine stalwart figures. If these bonny Highlanders did not each carry

a Marshal’s baton in his haversack, then, at least, they bore there

the hopes and pride of England. For, say what you will, the New Army

occupies a place of its own in the nation’s thoughts. Regulars and

Territorials both have their warm corners in the national heart, but

the New Army--it is you, it is I, it is all of us. It is a child of the

war, born since we broke with our old peaceful past, born of the new

spirit of self-sacrifice and determination that is remaking a nation

under our very eyes. The thought that is uppermost on seeing the New

Army in the field is that these are the men who must complete what has

been begun, the men that must carry on the torch so long and so bravely

upheld by the Old Army.

That battalion was quartered in the village for a few days. That

very evening, and each evening during its stay, their pipers strode

once up and once down the village street, playing the time-hallowed

tattoo. After nightfall the men quartered in the barns and sheds

all around chased dull care away by impromptu concerts. The rousing

choruses--veritable symposia of all the music-hall successes of the

past two years--mingling with the strains of mouth-organs, evoked

memories which were positively poignant in our isolation at the front

of tired crowds streaming back into London on hot Bank Holiday nights

in summer. For a few days one caught a glimpse of the kilt in the

village, one heard now and then the skirl of the pipes, and then, one

morning at daybreak, the battalion moved on.

After that, I continually came across the New Army at the front. I

seemed to be following, stage by stage, its progressive acclimatization

to the new life, its training for the new work. More than once I

encountered an entire division on the march between towns in rear of

our lines. The men’s uniform seemed to be of a more homogeneous khaki

tint than that of the veteran battalions in the field, and I was

particularly struck by the excellent leather harness and the splendid

condition of the big shire horses of the transport.

Little by little the New Army was creeping towards the front. Now I

would meet one of its officers doing a spell in the trenches, now a

company trudging with full equipment towards the firing-line along some

Flanders road, whose forlorn appearance spoke of “frightfulness” past

and to come. In the same way as the Territorials, the New Army was

gradually familiarized with the conditions in the trenches, until a

whole division was deemed suitably prepared for holding its part of the

line alongside of Regular and Territorial troops.

Like the Commander-in-Chief, everybody in the field was impressed

by the remarkably fine physique of the men of the New Army. Their

appearance fully dispelled an idea that was current at one time,

not only in England but also at the front, that the first of the

New Armies would be made up of poor specimens of the nation’s

manhood--that wastage in the form of the permanently unemployed and the

casual labourers, who are always the first to be hit by an economic

disturbance such as war produces. The splendid proportions of the

men in many new battalions, not only in stature but also in muscular

development, suggested that these men were ideal fighters, whatever

their training might prove to be like. This impression was amply

confirmed by the easy poise of the head and the clear expression of the

eyes of the men of the New Army.

Said the General commanding one of the first divisions of the New Army

to come to France, in talking to me about his men:

“I don’t believe they have a nerve in their bodies. They are

magnificent men in spirit as in physique. All they want now is to

‘have a go’ at the Germans, and once they get going, there will be

no holding them back, I give you my word for that. I have never seen

the Territorial system to better advantage than in the New Armies. In

almost every battalion the men come from their own recruiting area,

and, in addition to the bond of a common dialect, have all kinds of

family, business, and social relations with their officers and with one

another. Their discipline is excellent, and they are taking to the new

conditions of life out here like a duck to water.”

One who is in a position to judge adumbrated to me the theory that

the men of the later classes of the New Armies--men who joined for

“conscience’ sake,” after taking a month or two to settle up their

affairs--would be more “intelligent” soldiers, more to be trusted

individually and in a sudden emergency, but less good with the bayonet

and the spade than the earlier classes.

I believe this to be the veriest hair-splitting. Experience has shown,

I think, that war, or at any rate this war, gives a uniform mentality

to all men who are drawn into it, and they become good or bad soldiers

as the case may be. I am convinced that there is not a pin to choose

between a good Regular battalion and a good Territorial battalion, even

if the latter, like so many of the London Territorial regiments, for

example, is in the main composed of men from the educated classes.

The entrance of the New Army upon the stage of the theatre of war marks

the passing of the old soldier, the man who put the battle honours on

the regimental colours. He has left his magnificent spirit of courage,

devotion, and endurance behind, but he is taking away with him many

of his whimsical ways as expressed in his mysterious army slang, his

curious army games, his love of sentimental ditties of the “Just before

the Battle, Mother” order, or of doggerel like “Cock Robin” and “The

Song of Shame.”

Already you may find trenches at the front where an allusion to the

Motherland as “Old Blighty,” to bread as “roti,” and jam as “pozzy,”

will meet eyebrows lifted in haughty amazement, where “Crown and

Anchor”[1] is never played, where that cry, so familiar to army ears,

of “’Ouse!”[2] is never heard.

You remember the apoplectic horror of the old Colonel in the story

because a private of Regulars on parade blew his nose on his

handkerchief, “like any damned militiaman.” What would the old gentle

man say, I wonder, to privates who go into action with a pocket edition

of Ruskin in their haversacks and a couple of _Times Broadsheets_ in

their breast-pockets?

However, the long-service man is by no means wholly extinct in the

army in the field, and in many battalions his influence lingers strong.

In battalions of the New Army it is maintained by old soldiers who have

re-enlisted for the duration of the war, and upon whom, with their

tales of service in Malta, Gibraltar, Aden, Egypt, and India, their

comrades, fresh from civil life, seek to mould themselves. But for all

that, the soldier of Kipling’s stories is disappearing from the army as

the fighting unit, mainly because his numbers are gradually becoming

extinct through wastage of war, but also because the character of the

army is changing.

Under the influence of the introduction of so much new blood, the army

has ceased to be the close corporation it was, the kind of exclusive

association that, by its terms of service and its small numbers, was

able to select its material and shape it to its own form. It has

become more universal in character, more identified with the nation at

large. I believe that the change is only temporary, and that, as far

as one may look into the future at the present juncture, our military

traditions are strong enough to mould any amount of new material

into the old form: moreover, the men of the Expeditionary Force, now

prisoners in Germany, will alone suffice to furnish the backbone

of a new army on the old lines after the war. The introduction of

conscription would, of course, sound the knell of the army as we knew

it in the past.

The regimental officer of the type that Sandhurst and Woolwich turned

out is gradually being replaced by the subaltern from civil life. In

the new conditions, it will be impossible, I imagine, to maintain to

the full the old atmosphere of our officers’ corps, in which patriotism

and pride of regiment were rivals in the affections. The subaltern of

the New Army no longer talks of his regiment by its old army number,

nor does he recognize in the men around him those little symbols that

express our great military past, the red beckle of the Black Watch, the

Sussex plume, the eagle of the Scots Greys, nor could he tell you why

the officers of the Royal West Kents drink the King’s health sitting,

and the Grenadier Guards not at all.

We are here confronted with the introduction of an entirely new type

into the army. In the boys fresh from a Public School and in the

’Varsity graduates the army draws on a class that has always supplied

a large proportion of officers, but in addition to these there is

found in the New Army the vague young man--_le petit jeune homme_ that

Tristan Bernard writes of so delightfully--who has never done anything

particular until his response to the call of duty pitched him into a

period of intensive training among men to whom the army and its great

traditions meant as little as to himself.

Service in the field will make or mar this type of officer which is

found so largely in the New Army. In his training-camp at home he has

probably already dimly discerned that upon him, as an officer, devolves

the enormous responsibility of “mothering” a large number of men, all

of whom are older and more experienced in life than he. But he will

scarcely realize how much he is on his trial, that he must “make good”

or go under, until he comes out to the front. In the field he will

learn that his neat uniform and his Sam Browne belt are something more

than mere sartorial embellishments which are _de rigueur_ in England

this year. He will soon find out that the honour attaching not to him

but to the coat he wears carries with it obligations which he must meet

unflinchingly or be crushed.

In the field he will understand the true inwardness of those

regulations, continually impressed upon him at home by senior officers,

whom he was disposed to regard as “fussy” and “red-tapey,” which lay

down a clear social distinction between the officer and his men. He

must find out for himself how to adjust those regulations with that

measure of good-fellowship which, if he keeps his eyes open, he will

see existing between officers and men already at the front. Presently

he will begin to comprehend that the leader must be different from his

men, that the men must look up to him as to a real “superior,” for

guidance, for moral support. Then, when he begins to realize that it

largely depends on himself whether his men are good or bad, he will

take his place as a tiny cog in the position allocated to him by the

army in its vast system of machinery.

But even should it prove impossible to maintain the old atmosphere of

our officers’ corps, the new atmosphere will, I believe, be impregnated

with the same ideals as the old, though their origin may be different.

Our present army, composed of veterans of the Expeditionary Force,

Territorials, and New Army men, is inspired by the same determination

to prevail as held our little army firm at Mons and Ypres. In the case

of the Expeditionary Force, probably military tradition, which has all

the force of habit, was the main source from which this rare tenacity

was fed; with the New Army this unanimous resolve to conquer or die

springs from a blending of our great military traditions with the

mighty uplifting of our British civilization against a tyranny in which

liberty cannot live. Therefore I think one need not be apprehensive

lest the change which is coming over the character of the British

Army should detract from its fighting worth. Our military traditions

will see to it that discipline remains unimpaired: our resolve as a

nation to see this thing through will inspire our new troops to model

themselves on the glorious example of the men who have gone before.

The men in the field were glad to welcome the New Army. Already the

young troops have sustained their baptism of fire, not only in the

trenches but also in the open field. Obviously, not only officers and

men, but also the staffs, are lacking in experience of trench warfare.

Their immediate usefulness would rather seem to lie in the assault,

but, pending a resumption of the offensive by the Allies on the Western

front, every day the New Army spends in the field adds to its knowledge

of the peculiar conditions of the war of positions.

The future is to the New Army. Their arrival in the field betokens the

end of the era of insufficient men and resources. It ushers in the day

when the Allies, with all the force that in them dwells, shall essay

to break the wall of steel which Germany has flung across Europe. In

a dawn as full of promise as that which saw the rising of the sun of

Austerlitz, the young levies of Imperial Britain are waiting at the

parapet of our trench-line, looking out across the void at the barrier

behind which victory lies.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] “Crown and Anchor”--a soldier’s game of chance played with a

pointer which is spun round a board marked out in fields of different

colour on which the players stake. Stakes are paid according to the

field at which the pointer stops. This and “’Ouse” (see following

footnote) are great games among Regulars at the front. They are, or

used to be, extensively played on troop transports homeward bound from

India. Quite considerable sums of money are said to change hands at

“Crown and Anchor” on these transports.

[2] “House”--a kind of lotto, played with numbered cards, mostly for

copper stakes.

THE END

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_September, 1915._

Mr. Edward Arnold’s AUTUMN ANNOUNCEMENTS, 1915.

WITH OUR ARMY IN FLANDERS, 1915.

By G. VALENTINE WILLIAMS.

_Demy 8vo. Illustrated._ =12s. 6d. net.=

The author of this timely volume is one of the few accredited special

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after the battle. Since then Mr. Williams has had ample opportunities

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THIRTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE NEW FOREST.

By the Hon. GERALD LASCELLES.

_With Illustrations. Demy 8vo._ =12s. 6d. net.=

It is safe to say that never before has a book been written about

the New Forest by a writer with such qualifications for the task as

the author of this interesting work. Brought up in the atmosphere of

large estates, he was appointed to an official post in the New Forest

at a comparatively early age, and has spent the best years of a long

life there. The whole series of its records has been at his disposal,

and engaged as he has been for over thirty years in administering its

resources, promoting its welfare, and composing the rival claims of

its inhabitants, he has gradually acquired an unequalled knowledge

of its history, forestry, sport, and politics. Its politics he has

left severely alone, but on all other topics he enlarges with the

affectionate zeal of a true lover of the woods. Much entertaining

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bygone times will be found in the volume; the vicissitudes of the

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A SURGEON IN KHAKI.

By A. A. MARTIN, M.D., F.R.C.S. ENG.

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Dr. Martin is a New Zealander, who served as a surgeon in the South

African War, and last summer he made a professional tour of some

well-known British and American clinics. When the war broke out he

was attending the British Medical Association meetings at Aberdeen.

He at once came to London, and offered his services to the Royal Army

Medical Corps, and was given a temporary commission in that body.

After a short time at Aldershot he was transferred to the base of the

British Expeditionary Force in France. From there he moved to the

front, arriving on the scene of actual fighting just at the moment

when the great retreat had reached its furthest point, and the French

and British armies were about to assume the offensive. Dr. Martin was

attached to one of the Field Ambulances, and did his share of its work

at the battles on the Marne and the Aisne, and afterwards in Flanders.

Although it is written by a surgeon, and contains one or two chapters

on the professional side of the campaign, this book is essentially one

for the general reader. It is written in a fresh, free style that is

becoming noticeable as a characteristic of writers from the Antipodes;

and as the author does not scorn to give the small details of how he

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REMINISCENCES OF JOHN ADYE CURRAN, K.C.

_With Portrait. Demy 8vo._ =10s. 6d. net.=

A fund of good stories seems inseparable from a career at the Irish

Bar, and when their possessor elects to place them on record for the

benefit of the public, the reader may look forward to a treat. The

earlier portion of the book deals with the author’s career at the Irish

Bar, in the course of which we get illuminating sketches of many of

the great Judges and Advocates who have so nobly sustained its fame.

The _pièce de résistance_ of these reminiscences is, however, the

detailed and most interesting account of the unravelling of the Phœnix

Park Conspiracy, and the steps by which the ringleaders were brought

to justice. This episode exhibits him as a strong and fearless man

equipped with a fund of shrewd common sense and the enviable power

of guessing correctly at the line events had taken. Later on Mr.

Curran was engaged in the very arduous work of stamping out agrarian

crime from a disturbed district in which he again showed a remarkable

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THIRTY YEARS A REFEREE.

By EUGENE CORRI.

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These Reminiscences differ from any other in the present generation,

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first-hand account of the notabilities and conditions prevailing, will

be heartily welcomed.

Mr. Corri considers that boxing--viewed as a great national sport--was

never in a healthier state than it is to-day, and that a great change

has taken place since thirty years ago, when the heavy gambling element

was rather too much in evidence. Of the actual exponents of the art his

opinion is equally encouraging. He says: “If a fellow has a genuine

love of boxing, it is long odds that he is a white man at bottom, for

there is something in boxing that shames the little shabby meannesses

out of a man.” This means a good deal, for Mr. Corri is a shrewd

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Fred Welsh and Willie Ritchie, and the dramatic contests associated

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NIETZSCHE AND THE IDEALS OF MODERN GERMANY.

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especially on the issues of international conduct. Nietzsche was one

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be a grotesque overstatement; but that he enforced with singular

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MODERN ESSAYS

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THE CAPTURE OF DE WET.

By P. J. SAMPSON.

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The rebellion in South Africa is one of the very few chapters in the

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Africa to which it formed a preliminary. To people in England reading

of it at the time in disconnected fragments in the newspapers, the

whole thing was not only distressing but perplexing and unintelligible.

It is well that they should be given a consecutive narrative of it, in

its true perspective, by one who was on the spot, and familiar with the

strangely diverse currents of feeling that animate the heterogeneous

population of South Africa. The tale of the fighting--brisk, and full

of movement--forms a striking contrast to the trench warfare of Western

Europe, but it is the psychological rather than the military interest

which predominates throughout the book. The protagonists reveal

themselves with extraordinary vividness: on the one ride are the “slim”

Germanized Beyers, and Christian de Wet, fanatical and irreconcilable

to the last, a pitiful, tragic figure; on the other Botha plays the

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FROTH AND BUBBLE.

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GOD AND FREEDOM IN HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

A Study of Degrees of Reality.

CONTAINING THE DONNELLAN LECTURES FOR THE YEAR 1913-14, DELIVERED

BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF DUBLIN.

By the Right Rev. CHARLES F. D’ARCY, D.D., BISHOP OF DOWN.

_One Volume. 8vo._ =10s. 6d. net.=

The principle of Degrees of Reality has been coming to light more and

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HUMAN IMMORTALITY AND PRE-EXISTENCE.

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A SURGEON IN BELGIUM.

By H. S. SOUTTAR, F.R.C.S., LATE SURGEON-IN-CHIEF OF THE BELGIAN FIELD

HOSPITAL.

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STORIES FROM “THE EARTHLY PARADISE.”

By WILLIAM MORRIS.

Retold in Prose by C. S. EVANS.

_Illustrated. Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

It is through our natural love of a story that we are led to appreciate

the highest and best in literature. This is Mr. Evans’s justification

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work, just as it was Charles Lamb’s for his famous tales from

Shakespeare. Morris based most of his poems upon legends well known

in other versions--some of the world’s best stories indeed--and it

is hoped that the book will be read with interest for the stories

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The stories included are “Atalanta’s Race,” “The Son of Crœsus,” “The

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AT THE DOOR OF THE GATE.

By FORREST REID, AUTHOR OF “FOLLOWING DARKNESS,” “THE BRACKNELLS,” “THE

GENTLE LOVER,” ETC.

_Crown 8vo._ =6s.=

This is the most elaborate and finished piece of work its author has

yet given us. The history of a young man’s life, it begins with his

schooldays and follows him through the years of early manhood and of

marriage, the picture being presented largely through his relations

with three women, each of whom reflects the principal character from a

different point of view. The study of middle-class life, in its aspects

of alternate comedy and tragedy, is painted on a broader canvas than

the author has hitherto employed, but the central theme is followed

closely, for from the first the hero is confronted by a spiritual

reality which, while perpetually eluding him, seems ever about to come

within his grasp. And in the last chapters it is this which gives a

meaning to all that has gone before, so that we leave him, if not at

the end of his journey, at least with the open door within sight, and

the light shining beyond.

HILL BIRDS OF SCOTLAND.

By SETON GORDON, AUTHOR OF “THE CHARM OF THE HILLS,” ETC.

_With numerous full-page Illustrations. Demy 8vo._ =12s. 6d. net=.

Mr. Gordon is recognized as one of the highest authorities on the birds

of the hills; and he has made a life-study of them and their ways. He

has spent all hours of the day and night at all seasons of the year

watching the habits of these mountain birds. In his new book the author

discusses exhaustively the habits of the Ptarmigan; he was the first

person to obtain photographs of this bird in the Scottish hills. Much

information is also given about the Golden Eagle, its eggs and young;

its food, nesting haunts, and habits. There is an exhaustive account

of the Snow Bunting, a bird which only nests on the highest and most

inaccessible hills, close on 4,000 feet high. Mr. Gordon was the first

ornithologist to photograph this bird in its British nesting haunts.

A great deal of the information given in this book is quite new and

original. It is illustrated with numerous photographs of the birds and

their nests and nesting sites dealt with in the book; all these have

been taken by the author himself, mostly on the wildest moors of the

Highlands.

POULTRY HUSBANDRY.

By EDWARD BROWN, F.L.S., LATE HON. SEC. NATIONAL POULTRY ORGANIZATION

SOCIETY; PRESIDENT INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF POULTRY INSTRUCTORS

AND INVESTIGATORS. AUTHOR OF “RACES OF DOMESTIC POULTRY,” “POULTRY

FATTENING,” ETC.

_Fully Illustrated. Demy 8vo._ =8s. 6d. net=.

Twenty-four years ago (1891) the first edition of “Poultry-Keeping as

an Industry for Farmers and Cottagers,” by Mr. Edward Brown, F.L.S.,

whose labours for development of this branch of rural industrialism are

recognized all over the civilized world, was published. That book has

contributed greatly to the adoption of practical and scientific methods

scarcely known previously. It has passed through eight editions, and

been adopted as a textbook at educational centres in many countries.

Author and publisher now feel that the time has arrived for a work

dealing with the question on a broader basis. For the past year,

therefore, the former has been engaged upon an entirely new work, in

which has been brought into one focus from his former works what is

applicable to modern conditions, together with the result of practical

experience, and research work of later years, dealing with the entire

problem--productive, technical, and commercial. In it will be found a

vast amount of new material, and special attention has been given to

future developments, whether on extensive or intensive lines.

LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD, 41 & 43 MADDOX STREET, W

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious errors in punctuation have been fixed.

Page 7: “D’AZINCOURT” changed to “D’AGINCOURT”

Page 22: “all German soliders” changed to “all German soldiers”

Page 31: “on the balks” changed to “on the baulks”

Page 50: “first gas attac” changed to “first gas attack”

Page 62: “eight o’cloc” changed to “eight o’clock”

Page 125: “French Arym” changed to “French Army”

Page 284: “in comparsion” changed to “in comparison”

With our army in Flanders · 第 17 / 17 章