MY DEAR CHARLES,--They say we fight for money, do they? Well, so we do,
and it's a long hard fight, and it's a good soldier who wins against
that firmly entrenched enemy, the Command Paymaster.
When this War is over I shall take all my money out of the Bank of
England and, putting it in a paper bag and not troubling to tie it up, I
shall just hand it to the C.P.M. and say, "Hang on to this, will you,
till I come back?" Mark my words: if I'm away for fifty years or so,
every penny of it will be there when I return. It isn't his habit to
part with other people's money entrusted to his keeping.
I have a sergeant, an honest upright man with no complications in his
past, except that he is a Scot by birth and, happening to be there at
the outbreak, enlisted in Canada. By reason of his uncertain movements
he is unable to draw his food in the usual way, and yet insists,
tiresomely, on being fed. So I said he'd better feed himself, and I
claimed an authority for him to draw ration money in lieu of rations.
Having weathered all the storms of an administrative correspondence, we
eventually came by the authority itself. This was a great and happy day
in the lives of myself and the forty-nine other officers who had by this
time become involved in the affair. "Sgt. Blank is authorised to draw
ration money in lieu of rations as from March 1st, 1916," I read to him,
and sighed with relief. But it was a premature sigh. The trouble was
only just beginning.
"One-and-eightpence a day, no less, you get, Sergeant," I said.
He was by now an old hand. "One-and-eightpence a day I am authorized to
get, Sir," he corrected me.
A man not easily depressed, he took a cheerful view of the preliminary
condition that he was paid monthly, in arrear. He proposed to spend his
meal-times, during the rationless and moneyless days of March, reading
the correspondence; quite enough to engage a man's whole attention
during at least that period.
April 1st, 1916, duly arrived, and with it the renewal of the Sergeant's
food question, "What, again?" I asked, irritably.
But the Field Cashier, who was first approached on April 3rd, wasn't in
the least irritated. The subject interested him from the start.
Moreover, argumentative by nature though he undoubtedly was, he was all
anxiety to pay. First, however, there were one or two trifling
formalities to be observed. "You see," he explained, "I can only pay out
upon an authority."
With some confidence and no little pride we opened our despatch-case and
produced our correspondence. He read every word of it; his pay corporal
did the same, and very kindly explained it to us all as he went along.
"This," they agreed, "is your authority to get the money. What I want is
an authority to pay it." With expressions of mutual esteem we parted for
the day, agreeing to give the matter our most earnest consideration
during the week which must elapse before his return for the next
pay-day.
We spent a busy week interviewing the forty-nine officers and anyone
else we could get to listen. Only from the Camp Commandant did we get
anything approaching enthusiasm. Camp Commandants are men of a patient
disposition and a never-failing sympathy; what is better still, they
invariably possess a Sergeant-Major of unscrupulous if altruistic
cunning. We presented ourselves at the pay-office, on April 10th, armed
with every possible form of literature, over the Camp Commandant's
signature, which any reasonable Field Cashier could possibly want to
read.
The Field Cashier was very pleased to see us; we were very pleased to
see him. It was a most happy reunion. Only the Command Paymaster's
presence was wanted to make the thing a success. The Field Cashier gave
his address, dispensed with the Sergeant's presence at all future
meetings, and postponed all further proceedings in the matter till April
17th.
If there was any lack of graciousness in the correspondence with the
C.P.M., this was, I must at once say, on my side. He wanted to oblige,
but, being human, he must have his authority.
I sent him the authority to get and the authority to pay. His reply was
to the effect that both were perfectly delightful and in the very best
taste, but what was wanted before he could authorize payment was an
authority to have the account in England credited with the necessary
fund.
For the first time in my life I positively loathed England.
Bit by bit, however, the C.P.M. softened; but he hadn't softened quite
enough to satisfy our Field Cashier by April 24th. It was not till May
1st that he gave in altogether, and went so far as to send a chit to the
Camp Commandant, authorising him to receive for me the Sergeant's money.
Meanwhile we had discovered the private residence or funk-hole of our
F.C., and conversations became daily.
The defect on May 2nd was that the Camp Commandant hadn't signed the
right receipt.
The defect on May 3rd was that I hadn't got the right receipt to sign.
The defect on May 4th was--yes, hunger had got the better of the
Sergeant. Though he had got the right receipt and signed it, he had
signed it in the wrong place.
On May 5th I procured a light lorry, packed into it the Camp Commandant,
the Sergeant, myself, as many of the forty-nine officers as I could
lure, pens, ink and paper, and, by mere weight of numbers, I overcame
the Field Cashier. He scribbled his initials everywhere, inquired in
notes of what value we would take the money, and undertook, on his
personal honour, that upon his very next visit to our headquarters
(where the payment should properly be made) the notes should be ours. I
asked the Sergeant triumphantly what more he could want. He saluted
emphatically at the prospect of receiving, on May 8th, the money
wherewith to buy his food for the period March 1st to April 3rd
(inclusive).
It was indeed an achievement. Not only were all authorities in existence
and duly authorised, but the authorities who had authorised the
authorities were themselves authorised in writing to do so--and that
authoritatively. However, it was satisfactorily established in formal
proof that all persons concerned, including the Camp Commandant, myself
and the Sergeant, were in fact the persons we were represented to be.
Indeed the last lingering doubt was removed from the mind of the Field
Cashier as to his own identity, and (hats off, gentlemen!) England had
done her Bit. It was a reluctant bit, but somehow or other it had been
done. The money was there. The Command Paymaster could authorise its
payment; the Field Cashier could pay it; the Camp Commandant could
receive it; I could obtain it; and the Sergeant could get it. May the
8th was fast approaching but----
If a man (especially when he's right away in Canada) will be in such a
hurry to enlist that he cannot spare the time to think out things
carefully, what can he expect? Shortly after midnight of May 7th to 8th
a telegram arrived: "Reference my A.B.C. 3535; your X.Y.Z. 97S; their
decimal nine recurring. Please cancel all payment of rtn. allce. to
Sergeant Blank, Akk. Akk. Akk. This N.C.O. belonging to a Canadian unit
should apply direct to Paymaster, Overseas Contingent, Akk."
The Sergeant said nothing, except to ask me how long I thought the War
was likely to last?
Yours ever, Henry.
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[Illustration: _Subaltern._ "And about this saluting--I want you
recruits to be very particular about that. Of course, you know, you
don't salute _me_--you salute the uniform."]
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[Illustration: "Why don't yer see Doctor Smiff abaht it?"
"Is 'e a qualified doctor?"
"I dunno. But I 'ear 'e's done wonders wiv animals."]
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