"That you, Nancarrow?"
"Yes, Captain Pringle," replied Bob, whom by this time he had
recognised.
"What are you doing here?" asked Captain Pringle, with a smile.
"I want to enlist, sir."
The Captain lifted his eyebrows; perhaps he remembered their last
conversation together.
"Will you come this way," he said; "I should like a chat with you."
Bob followed the Captain, while the other fellows looked envyingly
towards him.
Captain Pringle led the way to a small room which he evidently used as
an office. To all appearance he was in authority at the station.
"I'm rather surprised to see you here, Nancarrow," he said, when he had
taken his seat behind a business-looking desk, and pointed Bob to a
chair.
"I'm rather surprised myself, sir."
"What have you been doing since I saw you last?"
Bob told him.
"And now you want to enlist?"
"If I can, sir."
"What as?"
"Anything, sir. For the front, if it is possible. I want to be at it."
The Captain smiled at Bob's eagerness.
"But, my dear chap," he said, "this is surely a big change for you. If
I remember aright, you joined the O.T.C. only to please your mother,
and you hated soldiering and all its doings as you hated the devil."
"I expect I do still, sir; but--but I am afraid it would take too long
to explain why--why I feel I must go to the front. I've had a bad time
in one way and another. You see, my father was a Quaker, and I was
brought up to believe in his teachings. I do still, for that matter.
War is hell, there's no doubt about that. But I've gone through the
whole business, and now I want to be at it. I don't want to stay in
England five minutes longer than I can help. I must get to the
firing-line. I feel like a man who wants to kill a mad dog."
"Commissions aren't so easily obtained."
"I'm not troubling about a commission, sir. We can't be all officers,
and I feel that all I ever learnt about soldiering would come back to
me in a week. If I can help it, I don't want to be idling around in a
barracks, or in camp; I just want to go to France as soon as ever I
can. I'll do anything, be anything; I don't care what, so long as I
can get into action."
"That's the spirit," replied Captain Pringle; "and I can't tell you how
glad I am to see you here. Of course I remember you when you were in
the O.T.C. You did jolly well--distinguished yourself, in fact. You
remember what I said to you."
"Yes, sir, I remember very well."
The Captain was silent for a few seconds. He seemed to be thinking
deeply, as if he were uncertain what to say.
"Naturally you know that even although you took a kind of double first
in the O.T.C., in the ordinary course of things you would have to have
further training before you could go into active service as a private."
"That's what's bothering me, sir. I did think of joining one of the
Public School or University Corps, but from what I can find out, they
are kept down at Epsom or some such place. I suppose they are having a
great time, and all that sort of thing; but, don't you see, that's not
what I want! I mean business, Captain Pringle."
The Captain started from his chair, and took two or three turns up and
down the room.
"You are really anxious for active service?" he said presently.
"I am. I feel that I've waited too long, and I want to make up for
lost time. It's several weeks now since the war commenced, and
although, heaven knows, I thought I was doing the right thing, I feel
now as though I have been playing the sneak and the coward. Other
chaps have been fighting while I have been sitting in an arm-chair
theorising on the ethics of the business. Now, however, I see my duty,
and my way is clear. But I want to make up for lost time. I want to
be in the thick of it. Of course, if I can't, I can't, and, as I said,
I'm willing and anxious to do whatever I am told. But I _do_ want to
go to the front; I don't care in what capacity, but somewhere where I
can help to kill this Mad Mullah who is threatening the best life of
Europe."
"You want to help to smash Germany?" laughed the Captain.
"Yes, that's it!"
"But why?" asked the Captain curiously.
"Because Germany, that is, official Germany, the Germany that holds in
thraldom millions of people, is the spirit of war. It worships the God
of War, and I want to go to war in order to kill war. You can't argue
with it, you can't appeal to it, because what is right to you is simple
madness to them. There's nothing for it but to crush it, destroy it
root and branch."
"But what about your religious views?" laughed the Captain. "Don't you
still believe in prayer and in that kind of thing?"
"It's because I _do_ believe in it that I've been led to think as I do
think. But it would be mocking the Almighty to pray to be kept from
starvation when you refused to work; blasphemy to pray for good health
while your drains are foul; madness to pray that no robbers might enter
your house, when you left your doors unlocked, knowing that all the
time fellows were waiting to come in and rob you. Just the same it
would be mockery to pray that Germany may be kept from going to war,
when she believes that Christ encourages it, that it is her duty to
force war, and as a consequence has been for twenty years preparing for
it, and waiting for a favourable opportunity to begin her hellish work,
without doing all one can. We've got to crush, to kill this War God of
theirs, and make war impossible for the future. Forgive me, sir, for
talking like this; I didn't mean to. I've been a long time in getting
to this point, but now it has become a kind of passion with me, because
I feel it to be the Call of God."
"By gad, Nancarrow, but you've touched the spot this time, and you've
put it well too! I'm not much at religion, I'm afraid, and I've had no
scruples. I'm an Englishman, and an Englishman must stand by his
promises, and help the weak. That's enough for me. All the same, I've
thought, as I suppose every one else has, how any war can be squared
with Christianity. But as you've put it--yes, I see--you mean that out
of love for the German people themselves, this War God, as you call it,
must be thrown down and crushed to powder!"
"Yes, that's it."
"Yes, and then there is another question--but no, I'll not go into that
now. As you said, you mean business, and I've spent a good quarter of
an hour, or more, talking. But still, old times are old times, after
all, and we were friends in the old days. But to business now. I'm as
keen as you are that you shall get into the thick of it. As a matter
of fact, I expect to go to the front myself in a week, and I want to do
what I can for you. You are willing to do anything, you say?"
"Anything."
"Look here, can you ride--well, I mean? No modesty, now. Speak
plainly."
"I can ride anything, sir. I can stick on a horse galloping, with my
face to its tail."
"Good! Know anything about motoring?"
"I've had a car for years, and always driven it myself. I do my own
repairing, and I know every inch of it, inside and out."
"Good again! Know anything about motorbikes?"
"Ridden one for years. After the last Easter Vac., I went from
Cornwall to Oxford on an old Humber. When I got there, I took it all
to pieces, repaired some of the parts, and turned it into a good
machine. Excuse me for talking so much about myself. I wouldn't have
done it, had you not asked me. Besides, I'm anxious to show you that
I'm not helpless."
"Helpless, by George! You are a useful man. You ride like a Centaur,
and you know all about motor-cars and motor-bikes. In addition to all
this, you did jolly well in the O.T.C. Yes, you certainly must be made
use of."
Again Captain Pringle was silent for a few seconds.
"You've got your licence and all that sort of thing for motoring?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Ever been to France?"
"Often, sir; also Germany."
"Know the lingo?"
"Passably."
"That is, you can understand what a Frenchman or a German says?"
"Everything, sir."
"Good! I'll speak to my Colonel right away. But let's strike while
the iron is hot. You came here to enlist as a private, you say. In
that case let's get through the medical business at once."
"I'm all right, sir."
"That must be proved. You are big enough, Heaven knows! Six feet
high, aren't you?"
"Just a trifle above that."
"And forty inches around the chest, I should think. Come this way."
A few minutes later Bob had been overhauled by a doctor.
"Sound as a bell," was the doctor's verdict.
Next he had to submit himself to an oculist, who tested Bob's eyes.
"All right?" asked Captain Pringle, who was present during the
examination, and told the doctors that Bob was an old friend of his.
"Should be a good shot," replied the oculist. "He's all right."
"Good!" said Captain. "How are your teeth, Nancarrow?"
Bob opened his mouth with a laugh. He was in high spirits.
"They look all right," said Captain Pringle; "but you must be properly
examined. A week or two ago hundreds of fellows were taken on without
any real examination at all. Only yesterday, when I was down at S----,
I was talking with a doctor there, and he told me that a fellow had
actually been passed who had a weak spine, and wore instruments to
support his back. Of course he was sent home at once, but it shows
how, under the new conditions, things were conducted in a loose
fashion. However, that's all over now. We are taking only sound men.
Here you are."
Bob was quickly dismissed by the dentist, and pronounced "all right."
"I suppose you are ready at once?" asked Pringle.
"Give me a couple of hours to settle up about my chambers, and a few
things like that, and I shall be ready, sir."
"Right. Of course there are the papers to sign and all that kind of
thing, but that's nothing. Be here at three o'clock this afternoon."
"Very good, _mon capitaine_," and Bob saluted military fashion, while
the other laughed.
"I don't know quite what to do with you yet, Nancarrow," said Pringle.
"You see, you are too good a man for a private--beside, you want to go
straight to the front. Naturally, too, at such times as these we can't
do everything by cast-iron rule. Exceptional cases demand exceptional
treatment. I can't say any more than that until I see my Colonel. You
will go with me to see him this evening. As you will see, I'm not
treating you quite like an ordinary recruit."
"I should think not, sir. I did not expect such favours."
When Bob got back to his chambers, he wrote to his mother.
"I expect this letter will come as a great surprise to you, mother," he
wrote. "This morning I enlisted! Of course you are rubbing your eyes
by this time, especially when you remember how I regard war. I haven't
altered my opinions in the slightest about its horror, and all that.
In fact, that's why I _have_ enlisted. I'm not going to enter into any
explanations of my change of belief and conduct. I'm only going to sy
that I believe it is my Christian duty to fight as long as God gives me
health against this War God which Germany has set up. I'm not sorry I
have gone through what I have gone through, even although I've lost
nearly everything I treasure most, and have lived in hell for weeks.
If I had enlisted when you wanted me to, I should have been no good. I
should have been feeling all the time that I was not doing right. I
should have been like a paralysed man trying to walk. Now everything
is different. I am eager to be in the thick of it. I am just longing
to be at those Germans. Not that I have anything against the German
people, but I want to help to kill the system that has gripped them
body and soul. It seems that nothing but war will cut out this
poisonous cancer of militarism, and it is the call of God to cut it out.
"That's why I've pleaded to be sent to the front right away. I met
Captain Pringle this morning (you remember him), and he's going to do
his best for me. He's off to the firing line in about a week's time,
and I'm in hopes that I shall be able to go with him. In what capacity
I don't know as yet; possibly only as a private, but I don't mind that.
We can't all be officers, and I'm eager, anxious to be _anything_
whereby I can help the cause. It is possible, therefore, that in a
week or two's time I shall be out of England, on my way to, if not in
the very midst of action.
"Please don't talk about this. God knows it's too serious to be talked
about. Fancy a doctor going to perform an operation which may kill not
only the patient but himself, and you have a hint of my feelings at
this moment. Let the people think what they will of me--I'm beyond all
that now. I'll write you in a day or two telling you exactly what has
taken place."
When Bob arrived at S---- that afternoon, Captain Pringle went straight
to Colonel Sapsworth. In a few minutes the Colonel knew the main
outlines of Bob's career.
"I should have advised him to join one of the Public School Corps,"
said the Captain, "but in that case he would have been months before he
could have gone into active service. You see he's as keen as mustard
to be at the front, and remembering my last conversation with you, I
thought I'd bring him down. We shall be sadly in need of men of his
stamp. He will provide his own motor-bike, which he knows inside and
out; he speaks French and German almost like a native, he's as plucky
as they make 'em, he's eager to get to work; in addition to which he
was the best lad we had in the O.T.C. with which I was connected."
"Does he want a commission?" asked the Colonel.
"Yes, I should think so--naturally. You see he's been well brought up,
and is well off. On his mother's side he belongs to one of the best
families in the West of England, and--and--well, Tommies are having to
rough it just now."
"And none the worse for it," snapped the Colonel.
"Exactly; and he's quite prepared to enlist as a private. I was only
answering your question."
"Just so: let's see him."
A few minutes later Bob was undergoing a severe cross-examination by
the Colonel, who had the reputation of being somewhat eccentric in his
methods. Bob, who of course knew that he was being subjected to
special treatment, did not know whether the old officer was pleased
with him or not. He only knew that he was asked keen, searching
questions in a brusque, military fashion, and that he was finally
dismissed without knowing what was to become of him.
For some time after this Bob knew what it meant to be a Tommy; he soon
found out, moreover, that his experiences in the O.T.C. did not prepare
him for those he was now undergoing. Each morning he was up at
half-past five, and then for several hours a day he was submitted to
the severest drilling. He quite understood the necessity for men being
physically fit before being drafted into the army at war time. When he
lay down at night in the company of men whom in ordinary times he would
never think of associating with, he was so tired that he forgot the
uncomfortable surroundings and uncongenial society. Never in his life
had he slept as he slept now. Never did he imagine he would have to
put up with such privations.
In one sense he found that, as far as the privates went, the army was a
great democracy. One man was as good as another. The sons of
well-to-do families rubbed shoulders with colliers and farm labourers.
Tommy was Tommy, whether he was "Duke's Son" or "Cook's Son." And yet,
in another sense, education and social status were recognised. He
found that in spite of themselves, and in spite of the fact that all
distinctions were technically sunk between them, those who came from
labourers' cottages found themselves almost instinctively paying
deference to the men who did not belong to their class.
There were some half a dozen men in Bob's company who had come from
good homes, and while general comradeship existed, these men naturally
drifted together.
One of the great hardships to Bob was the food. The rancid butter, the
coarse bread, the almost uneatable bacon, the tough meat, tried him
sorely. At first he could scarcely swallow it. He got used to it at
length, however, and found that he was none the worse for it. He also
longed for the luxury of a private bath. Oh! just for half an hour in
the porcelain bath in his mother's house! Just to have the exquisite
pleasure of feeling the sting of cold pure water around his body!
But things were not to be. As he laughed to himself, "I am a full
private, and I must take my chance like the rest of them!"
Nevertheless, to a lad reared amidst all the refinements of a good home
the change was so great that had he not felt it a bounden duty to be
where he was, he would have felt like running away. Still he was not
there for fun, neither had he anticipated an easy time. Sometimes, it
is true, he was more than disgusted by what he saw. Many of the men
did not seem to understand the ordinary decencies of life, and acted in
such a fashion as to grate sorely upon his sensitive nature. Their
language was often unprintable, while their ideas of life and conduct
often made him sick.
How could such fellows as these fight for honour and truth? Some of
them seemed to have no sense of honour or decency. He saw presently,
however, that even these, who were not by any means representative of
the whole, had far higher standards than he had at first thought. They
were coarse, and some times brutal, but they were kind to their pals,
and would put themselves to any trouble to do another chap a good turn.
One night it was very cold, although it had been very warm during the
day. They had all been drilling hard, and were dog-tired. One of the
men was evidently very seedy. He complained of a sick headache, and he
was shivering with the cold.
"Bit off colour, mite?" said one.
"Jist orful, Bill. Gawd, I wish I was 'ome. The graand is so ----
hard too, and I'm as sore as if some one had been a-beatin' me with a
big stick."
"Ere mitey, you just 'ave my blanket. I don't want it. And let me
mike my old overcoat into a bit of a pillow for yer."
"You are bloomin' kind, Bill, and I don't like----"
"Oh, stow it, it's nothink. Anything you'd like, mitey?"
"No, that is----"
"Come, out with it you ----. Wot is it? Shall I fetch the doctor?"
"Ee ain't no use! besides, you'd get into a ---- row if you went to him
now. When I wos 'ome and like this my mother used to go to a chemist
and git me some sweet spirits of nitre, and it always made me as right
as a trivet. But there ain't no such ---- luck 'ere."
"Wot yer call it? Sweet spirits o' mitre? Never 'eerd on it afore.
'Ow do you tike it?"
"Oh, you just puts it in 'ot water; but there, I can't 'ave it. Good
night, Bill, and thank you for the blanket."
Bill, without a word, tired as he was, left the tent, and half an hour
afterwards returned with the medicine.
"Gawd, Bill," said the sick man, "but you ain't a ----"
"Not so much chin music. There, tike it, and go to sleep."
Such little acts of kindness as these were constantly taking place, and
they were by no means confined to men who belonged to the better-class
but were more frequently seen among the roughest and coarsest.
Bob found out, too, that there was a rough sense of honour among them.
Some of them seemed to revel in filthy language, but if a man did a
mean thing, or didn't play the game according to their standard, he was
in for a bad time. Indeed, he soon found out that, in a certain sense,
the same code of honour which prevailed at Clifton, with exceptions,
operated in this newly-formed camp.
Day after day and week after week passed, and still Bob knew nothing of
what was to happen to him. He had enlisted as a private, but on
Captain Pringle's advice had put down his name for a commission. From
the first day, however, he had heard nothing more of it. From early
morning till late in the day it was nothing but hard, tiring work.
It was all wonderfully strange to him, this intermingling with a mixed
humanity, working like a slave for that which he had hitherto hated,
and which he still hated. Still, he threw his whole heart into it, and
he could not help knowing that he was progressing rapidly. After the
first few days his tiredness and soreness passed away, and he could go
through the most arduous duties without feeling tired. There was
something in it all, too, which inspired him. The military precision
of everything appealed to him, and the shouts, and laughter of hundreds
of voices made life gay in spite of everything. As the days passed by,
moreover, he could not help seeing that the association with
clean-minded, healthy-bodied, educated men, was having a good effect
upon the coarse-fibred portion of the strange community. They did not
indulge so frequently in coarse language, neither was their general
conduct so objectionable. It seemed as though they had something to
live up to.
"Shut up, mate, and don't be a beast," Bob heard one man say to another
one day.
"You are mighty squeamish, you son of a swine," was the rejoinder; "wot
are you so partic'ler about?"
"'Cos I don't want to tell them 'ere fellers that we're a low lot."
"We're as good as they are, thet's wot we are. We're just all equals
'ere. They are Tommies just as we are. That's wot _I_ ses."
"We may be all equals as soldiers; but we cawn't git away from it,
Bill, some of 'em are gentlemen. Thet's wot they are. Some of 'em
just make me ashamed of myself sometimes. No, I ain't a puttin' on no
side; but I just want to let 'em see that we workin' chaps can behave
as well as they can. Thet's all. See?"
Meanwhile, good news came from the front. The Allies had driven the
Germans back over the Marne, and were making progress all along the
line.
The men cheered wildly as they heard the news.
"They'll git licked afore we get a smack at 'em," some ventured.
But in the main they knew better. They realised that the war was going
to be long and bloody, and although going to the front possibly meant
their death, there were very few who did not want to get there.
No one felt this more than Bob. He had now been three weeks in camp,
and it seemed to him possible that it might be months before his time
for action came. Of Captain Pringle he had heard nothing since he
enlisted, and he was afraid he had gone to the front without having
been able to do anything for him.
One evening he was sitting outside his tent, smoking his pipe. It had
been a hot, sweltering day, although the summer was now over. Around
him, as far as he could see, was a sea of bell-shaped tents.
Everywhere was a great seething mass of men in khaki. Horses of all
sorts abounded. Many of the men were bandying jokes one with another,
others were at the canteen, while many more had gone to the nearest
town. Bob himself had earlier in the day gone to the town to indulge
in a "good square well-cooked meal," as he called it; and now, early as
it was, although he little relished the thought of sleeping so-many in
a tent, he was just thinking of going to bed. Near him a number of
soldiers were singing gaily.
"Nancarrow!"
Bob turned his head, and saw a fellow soldier beckoning.
"What's up?"
"You are wanted."
"Where?"
"Officers' quarters."
As Bob obeyed the summons, he caught the song in which a great mass of
men had joined.
"It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go;
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know.
Good-bye, Piccadilly;
Farewell, Leicester Square.
It's a long, long way to Tipperary.
But my heart's right there."
As he reached the officers' quarters, he was surprised to see Captain
Pringle.
"I've news for you, Nancarrow."
"Thank you, sir."
"You've got your commission."
"That's great. Thank you. I'm sure I owe it to you."
"Nonsense. Come this way. You've to go to Colonel Sapsworth. But
that's not all. You start for the front almost immediately."
For a moment Bob could not speak. It was not fear that overwhelmed
him, it was something more terrible. Every nerve in his body quivered,
while his heart beat wildly.
"It's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes, Captain. By Jove, that's great!"
And that was all Bob could say.