Had been a fortnight in the infirmary, when one morning at ten o'clock
one of the Sergeants of my squadron ordered me to dress in tunic and
_képi_, saying that he had received orders to take me before the
_Conseil_. This word simply means court, and is applied to the _Conseil
de discipline_ (regimental court-martial) as well as to the _Conseil de
réforme_ (Invalidation Commission), but I had by that time become so
accustomed to threats of being sent before a regimental court-martial,
that I could only think of that, and asked the Sergeant on what charge
I was going to be tried.
"I can't tell you," he replied, smiling.
He was a friend of mine, and I thought him most heartless to ridicule
my trouble. In vain I asked him, while I was dressing, to explain what
it meant, but he would not, and tortured me by asking in a jocular way
how I would like a change of air and surroundings. At last I lost my
temper.
"It's all very fine," I said, "to chaff a fellow when you know that
he is going to be sent for three years and a half to hard labour in
Algeria. You are simply a brute, that's all I can say."
"But suppose I don't know anything of the kind?" he replied, still
smiling. "Why do you think so?"
"Well, I suppose, if I am going to be tried before the _Conseil de
discipline_----"
"You ass!" he laughingly replied; "who spoke to you of _Conseil de
discipline_? Aren't there other _Conseils_?"
I looked astonished.
"Have you never heard of the _Conseil de réforme_?" (Invalidation
Commission) he said.
"You don't mean to say----"
"Yes," he replied, "I do mean to say that you are proposed for
_invalidation_, and most likely you will cease to be a Dragoon this
afternoon."
My heart nearly stopped. The Corporal in charge of the infirmary came
in at that moment (I had been put alone in a small ward of only two
beds).
"You've heard the news?" he said.
I asked him how it had happened, and how I had not heard of it sooner.
He proceeded to explain that, for the last two or three months past,
our surgeon had meant to have me invalided, but that the Surgeon-major
of the infantry, who was senior surgeon of the district, had always
scratched my name off the list, as he had taken a particular dislike to
me, and also wished to spite our surgeon, whom he hated. The previous
day this infantry surgeon had been suddenly summoned to his mother's
bedside in the South of France, so that Surgeon-major Lesage (our own
surgeon) was in his absence the head of the medical service, and as
such he had included me in the list of men proposed for _invalidation_.
My joy knew no bounds, and my only fear was that the Commission would
reject the proposal.
I was taken to the hospital with five other Dragoons, and on arriving
there we found half a dozen men from the Line regiment, who were also
to be examined.
At 11 A.M. the members of the Commission arrived, but we did not see
them coming, as they entered the room where we were to be examined by
another door.
At the end of a few minutes a Dragoon was called in: he was the
Breton of whom I spoke at the beginning of this book, who cried so
bitterly at the thought of his cow. Since he had joined the regiment
the poor fellow had gradually been sinking, and he was reduced to a
mere skeleton. They did not keep him long, and when he came out he was
laughing and crying hysterically. "Sergeant," he cried, "oh, Sergeant,
let me kiss you! I am going to see her again, my cow, and the hens and
the fields, the dear old house!"
He had put his arms round the Sergeant's neck, and was sobbing like a
child on his shoulders. He then sat on one of the benches, and kept
saying, "I should have died, you know, if they had not sent me home.
It's the Blessed Virgin--she has heard my prayers! I prayed so hard to
her, and every Sunday I burnt a candle before her altar. I must go and
thank her."
He then asked the Sergeant to let him go to the church, but the latter
said that he was not allowed to let him leave the hospital until the
Commission had retired.
"Then I will thank her here; she will hear all the same." And so saying
the poor fellow knelt down and buried his head in his hands, muttering
a prayer. It was so genuine, so simple, and yet so beautiful, that
not a single one of those coarse soldiers assembled there thought of
chaffing him, although he had been unmercifully derided for saying his
prayers in the room at the barracks.
In the meantime two other men had been examined, the last one being
sent back to his service. Then came the turn of a _Volontaire_, a
poor fellow whose knee-cap had been broken. Although the doctors were
unanimous in declaring that he would _not be able to walk at all
for two years_, and although certificates from two of the greatest
French surgeons, who had been sent by his family to operate on him,
were produced, stating that he would be lame for life, the Commission
refused to invalid him! When my turn came my heart was beating so fast
that I could hardly speak.
One of our Majors presided over the Commission, of which the other
members were two Captains and four Lieutenants. To my horror, Captain
Hermann was one of them. Our Surgeon-major, assisted by the assistant
Surgeon-major of the Line regiment, examined each man.
I was presented by Surgeon-major Lesage: "This is Trooper Decle," he
said; "he is absolutely unfit for service. He suffers from general
weakness of constitution and heart palpitation." The other doctor
examined my heart and confirmed my Surgeon-major's diagnosis. The
assistant Surgeon-major said that he fully shared Surgeon-major
Lesage's views, and was absolutely in favour of my being invalided.
"I should like to listen to the fellow's heart myself," remarked the
Major.
"By all means," said the doctor, smiling, for he knew that the Major
knew nothing of medicine.
I stood beside the Major and he put his bald head against my chest. Of
course my heart was beating furiously, as I was in a blue funk about
the decision which would be arrived at.
"I would be sorry to exchange with him," growled the old Major, "he's a
regular roarer."
"Well, gentlemen," said the Surgeon-major, "you have heard Major Vieu
confirm what I told you, and I will ask you to pronounce your decision."
"Allow me to ask you first," said Captain Hermann, "whether the trooper
could not do his service in the infantry?"
"I would not have him," replied the infantry doctor.
"But supposing we sent him into the transport service," again suggested
Captain Hermann.
"No, sir," replied Surgeon-major Lesage; "you are wasting your time and
mine. Invalid him, or don't invalid him--that's for you to decide; but
I warn you that if you don't invalid him I shall make him finish his
term in hospital."
"Come on, Hermann," said the Major, half asleep, "we have a lot of
others to see; let us vote--I want my lunch."
"What do you say?" asked Surgeon-major Lesage from the youngest
Lieutenant.
"Oh, invalid him," he quickly replied.
"Yes," said the next Lieutenant.
"Yes," said his neighbour.
"No," replied the fourth Lieutenant, who sat near Captain Hermann.
"Decidedly not," said my Captain.
This looked bad; two nays to three ayes.
"Better invalid him," said the second Captain.
"By all means," murmured the Major with his eyes shut.
I was no longer a trooper! I thought I was going to faint.
"Invalidation No. 1?" queried the doctor.
"Yes, yes," the Major cried, striking his chair with his fist; "but
d---- it, let us go on. I want my lunch, and I am off if you don't
hurry up."
A form was filled in by the dispensary Corporal acting as clerk: this
was signed, and the doctor told me that my papers would be handed over
to me in the evening.
When I came out there was no need to ask me what the result was: it was
written on my face.
"Must I congratulate you?" asked the Sergeant.
"Yes," I said, shaking him by the hand; "but tell me," I added, "what
does 'Invalidation No. 1' mean?"
"You don't mean to say that they have granted you that! Why, man alive!
it means a pension of £24 a year for life!"
I was astounded. Half an hour later the Commission had retired, and I
suggested stopping at a café on our way back to barracks. The Sergeant
assented, and I offered him and my comrades a bottle of champagne
to celebrate this glorious day--the happiest day in my existence, I
believe. When I returned to the barracks I met Sergeant de Cormet in
the yard.
"Where are you coming from?" he cried: "I thought that you were at the
infirmary."
"Yes, Sergeant, but I have just come from a turn in the town."
"We shall see about that," he answered.
"I went out on duty, Sergeant."
"I'll make sure of that; but in any case," he sneered, "you won't be
always at the infirmary, and when you come out you will soon find
yourself in the wrong box."
"I don't think so, Sergeant," I said, laughing; "in fact, I am going to
Paris to-night."
"With whose leave, please?"
"Superior authorities," I said.
"If you mean to laugh at me," he replied in angry tones, "I shall have
you consigned to prison."
"No, Sergeant, no more _Salle de Police_, prison, or cells for me--in
fact, in case I do not see you again, I shall wish you good-bye now,
or rather _au revoir_, as I hope I may meet you soon. You see I am no
longer a Dragoon: I have just been invalided."
"It can't be," he said, astounded. "_I_ should have heard of your being
proposed for _invalidation_."
"You don't hear everything," I replied; "but if you don't believe me,
here comes the dispensary Corporal, and he has my papers."
He did not add a word, and went off shrugging his shoulders eloquently.
The news soon spread through the barracks, and many were the
congratulations I received.
In the afternoon the Surgeon-major came to the infirmary, where I
expressed my deep thanks to him. He told me that I should have to sleep
in the barracks again that night, as an error had been made in drawing
up my papers, a pension having been granted to me by mistake. As to
this I was quite indifferent, for I would willingly have given more
than £1000 to have secured my release. The Surgeon-major also advised
me to be very careful until I had received my papers, and changed my
uniform for civilian clothes, for until this was done I was still under
military law. The following morning my papers were handed over to me,
and I returned all my outfit to the regimental stores, making a present
to Titi and Piatte of all such uniforms and kits as were my personal
property.
I gave twenty francs to the troopers of my _peloton_ to drink my
health, and I did not forget my friends Titi and Piatte. I then took
leave of my Sergeants, gave a parting kiss to my charger, and stepped
into the street, a free man at last! Half an hour later I had discarded
my uniform for ever. Not only had I ceased to be a Dragoon, but I had
also altogether ceased to belong to the French army.
A fortnight later I arrived in England, a country I already loved,
and ever since my life has been spent in travelling through the vast
domains of the British Empire; and I feel proud to think that it
has fallen to my lot to be numbered among those who have helped to
enlighten Englishmen on the glorious work of those great men who have
laid the foundation of a gigantic African Empire.
CONCLUSION
It will probably be believed by many readers that in describing my life
as a soldier I have at times given the reins to my imagination; but I
can only assure them that this is not the case. I have, fortunately or
unfortunately, an excellent memory, and the scenes and conversations I
have described are ineffaceably engraved on my mind.
That much of my narrative is occupied with the constantly recurring
punishments that befell me, is not my fault--to have slurred over
those punishments would have been to paint a misleading picture of my
military career, its most salient feature being omitted.
It cannot, at all events, be said with any plausibility that my lot
must unfortunately have been cast amongst the scum of the French army.
The scum, if any exist, is not to be sought in a cavalry regiment.
Let me, with reference to this point, briefly indicate the relative
_status_ of the three great branches of the service from an educational
point of view. Although it is now possible to secure a commission
through the ranks almost as quickly as through the military schools, a
preliminary liberal education is absolutely necessary, especially in
the cavalry and artillery, as most difficult examinations have to be
passed, and the successful candidates must then spend one year in a
special military school, as St. Maixant for the infantry, and Saumur
for the cavalry. Before leaving the school a final examination has also
to be passed in order to obtain a commission. In case of failure in
this, candidates are allowed to remain for another year in the school,
but if they are unable to pass at the end of that time, they are sent
back to their regiment.
To become an officer without passing through the ranks it is necessary
to be admitted to the St. Cyr military school for the infantry and
cavalry, and to the _École Polytechnique_ for the artillery. At the end
of the second year at St. Cyr a competitive examination is undergone,
and only those who are at the head of the list have the choice between
cavalry and infantry. Those who are thus admitted to serve in the
cavalry spend their third year in a class apart from the Cadets who are
to become officers in the line. At the end of the third year the Cadets
pass a final examination, after which they receive their commission.
Those who are drafted into the line at once join a regiment, while
those who serve in the cavalry have to spend another year in the
cavalry school of Saumur before joining. It will therefore be seen that
cavalry officers are, educationally, picked men.
This applies still more strikingly to artillery officers, for these
have all passed through the Polytechnic School, the highest engineering
school in France. After leaving the Polytechnic they spend a year at
the artillery school of Fontainebleau, whence they are drafted into a
regiment as full Lieutenants. There are cases of artillery officers
having worked their way to a commission through the ranks, but these
instances are quite exceptional, and it is very seldom that such
officers reach a higher rank than that of Captain. On the contrary, a
large percentage of the infantry officers get their commissions through
the ranks.
That improvements have been effected since my time I gladly admit.
The reforms instituted by the much-abused General Boulanger have been
already touched upon, and their value must not be under-estimated.
To quote but a few of them--he abolished the _Salle de Police_ for
non-commissioned officers, replacing it by confinement to the room. He
extended from 10 P.M. to 11 P.M. the time at which non-commissioned
officers had to be back in barracks, this time being extended to
midnight in the case of re-enlisted N.C.O.s. He allowed the latter a
higher pay, a separate room, and the right of wearing clothes made of
fine cloth of the same quality as that worn by the officers, and gave
non-commissioned officers the right to live outside the barracks. He
then withdrew from Corporals, Sergeants, and other non-commissioned
officers the right of punishing privates with _Salle de Police_, the
only punishment they can now inflict being confinement to barracks.
Unfortunately, however, these regulations can be easily evaded, for
when a Corporal or a Sergeant wants to send a man to the _Salle de
Police_ he has only to report him to the Lieutenant of the Week, who
hardly ever fails to put down whatever punishment the Corporal or
non-commissioned officer asks him to inflict; or, again, if a Corporal
or non-commissioned officer wants to have a man punished with _Salle de
Police_ he has only to give the fellow the maximum number of days of
"C.B." (confinement to barracks) he is allowed to give, and justify the
punishment by a strong motive, and in that case the Captain will never
fail to transform the punishment into lock-up.
General Boulanger also added much to the comfort of privates and
Corporals, by ordering that they should have their meals served at
table and presided over by a Corporal. The food of the ten to twelve
men sitting at each table was to be served in a dish, portions being
distributed to each man on an enamelled plate by the Corporal or table
president. This regulation, which has remained in force ever since,
introduces a great improvement on the way we were fed in my time--as
will be obvious from my previous description. Last, but not least,
General Boulanger fixed at 9 P.M. instead of 8 P.M., the time at which
privates had to return to barracks in the evening. The General's
extraordinary popularity is therefore hardly to be wondered at if one
remembers that every Frenchman has to be a soldier.
It is, of course, quite clear that one of the greatest blots in the
system I have described--that is to say, the system actually adopted,
and not the ideal one depicted in the regulations--is that the cavalry
officers trust almost entirely to the Sergeants to look after the
drill, discipline, and comfort of their men. During my twenty months'
service the Colonel did not come fifty times to the barracks, and then
rarely stayed there for an hour at a time. Except during the general
yearly inspection, the Lieutenant-Colonel or Majors did not pass once
a month through our rooms, and then merely marched through them in a
perfunctory manner.
The Captain in command of my squadron sometimes, it it is true, came
to our room, usually on the weekly inspection day, but a fortnight or
three weeks often elapsed between his visits. My Lieutenant came to our
room on the weekly inspection day, but rarely at other times. None of
our officers ever came to look at our food.
As to the drill, until the squadron drilled together the officers
hardly ever troubled themselves about it. During the first five months'
preliminary training, troopers were left entirely to the care of the
Sergeants and Corporals, the Lieutenants looking on for perhaps a few
minutes at a time. When, in April, the troopers began to be drilled in
squares marked out on the manoeuvring ground, the officers used to ride
over there, and every quarter of an hour or so glanced at the square
where their men were riding under the command of a Sergeant. "Stables"
were superintended by the officer of the week, but as in the 1st and
2nd squadrons (as well as in the 4th and 5th) one officer took the
week in turn for the two combined squadrons, he could not be expected
to see much of what was going on, among the 250 horses or thereabouts
he had to superintend. Lieutenants and Sub-lieutenants, except when
they were on "week" duty, never came to the stables, so that really
everything devolved on the Sergeants, whose power and responsibility
were consequently enormous.
Another consequence of the French military system is that officers and
rank and file alike are absolutely wanting in that _esprit de corps_
which is so remarkable in British regiments. That privates should feel
no particular pride in the body to which they are temporarily, and for
the most part unwillingly, attached, is not to be wondered at, but in
the case of officers a different explanation is forthcoming.
Strange to say, it is a general rule in the French army that officers,
on their promotion to a superior rank, are always sent into another
regiment (the only exception occurring in the case of Sub-lieutenants,
who sometimes--but rarely--remain in the same regiment upon their
promotion to the rank of Lieutenant). The consequence of this rule is
that an officer who reaches the rank of Colonel has often served in
six different regiments. It even often happens, for instance, that a
Lieutenant of Dragoons is drafted into the Hussars on his promotion
as a Captain, and then passes into the Cuirassiers when he becomes a
Major, being transferred to the Chasseurs as Lieutenant-Colonel, and
then being put in command of a regiment of Dragoons as Colonel.
The hard-and-fast lines of social distinction which are drawn between
officers of different ranks are also fatal obstacles to the corporate
well-being of the regiment. The idea, for instance, that Captains
would demean themselves if they sat at the same table with Lieutenants
and Sub-lieutenants, and that Majors must also form a separate mess,
hinders social intercourse between officers of the different ranks,
and seems almost to indicate the possibility of subalterns forgetting
themselves in the presence of their superior officers. How different
the English system, where all officers mess together, meeting in the
simple equality of gentlemen!
There is a general idea in France that German soldiers are subjected
to a much stricter discipline than French soldiers, and that German
officers may strike their men and treat them like slaves. I believe
this was so at the time of the Franco-Prussian War, for I then saw
such acts of barbarity committed by officers; but the present system
is very different. To begin with, no punishment can be inflicted by
a non-commissioned officer or even by a Lieutenant, Captains alone
having the right to punish; and I even saw a case, during one of my
numerous visits to Germany, when the Captain commanding a company was
severely reprimanded by his Colonel, who withdrew from him the right
of punishment altogether, because there were too many men punished
under his command; the Colonel arguing, with much force, that if an
officer could not maintain discipline without constantly punishing his
men it proved that he did not know how to deal with soldiers, and that
therefore he was unfit to decide whether a man ought to be punished or
not.
So far as my punishments are concerned I have no wish to pose as a
martyr, and I acknowledge that some of them were deserved; but if I had
been treated like a free human being, and not like a convict--if I had
not been bullied, as well as unjustly and unduly punished I should not
have become--as I did--desperate, caring little whether I was punished
or not. I fully understand and excuse the motives which prompt so
many men to desert--men who have neither position nor reputation to
maintain--and I frankly declare that, rather than have served another
year, I would have become a deserter myself.
Had war broken out when I was a trooper, I am quite sure that the
first battle would have resulted in the death of at least three of
our officers and four of our Sergeants, and that they would not have
fallen under the enemy's bullets. This may be a terrible thing to say,
but I knew two troopers who were determined to do the deed. It was not
mere brag, for it was by accident that I heard them more than once
discussing the matter.
In my own case I am persuaded that my Captain and my Colonel, relying
blindly on the N.C.O.s, were honestly convinced that I was a bad
character. Five years after I left the regiment I met one of my former
officers, who was then military attaché to one of the embassies. He
did not recognise me, and did not catch my name. In the course of
conversation I inquired whether he had known a man named Decle, who had
served in his regiment.
"Don't I remember him!" he said. "He was a most incorrigible rogue! My
friend Captain Hermann often spoke to me about him: he was a fellow who
would never do any work, and who was most ungrateful. Although fairly
intelligent, he worked so little that he was classed last at the final
examination, and they had to keep him a second year. I remember that
there was some talk of sending him before a court-martial, as he once
made serious false allegations against his Sergeant-major. Altogether
he was a bad lot. Do you know what has become of him?" I replied in the
affirmative, and the military attaché asked me somewhat anxiously if I
knew him well.
"He is my best friend," I replied, "and you are now talking to him."
The attaché looked much embarrassed, but I soon put him at his ease,
and assured him that I was in no way offended. I told him exactly what
had happened, and he acknowledged that it was too true that, in many
cases, officers formed their opinion entirely from Sergeants' reports,
"but," he added helplessly, "what else can we do?" And he really seemed
to think the question unanswerable.
I had a good opportunity of personally observing the practical working
of French military organisation at the time of the Madagascar war.
Everything was at sixes and sevens.
Plans were made one day and altered the next; the Minister of War
wanted one thing, the Commander-in-Chief wanted another; and if these
two high authorities had not been seconded by two of the most admirable
and practical officers in the French service (General de Torcy, and
Major, now General, Bailloud), things would have gone even worse than
they did. The Intelligence Department, too, was conspicuous by its
lack of information. The French military authorities did me the honour
to consult me on many points, but unfortunately, as it turned out,
the advice I gave was rejected by General Mercier, then Minister of
War. I was asked to give my opinion about transport in general, and
I first asked how many white men would take part in the Expedition,
and inquired how the transport of supplies would be organised. The
answer was that 6000 iron carts, drawn by mules, would be used for the
service. I pointed out that the use of such carts would be absolute
madness, as I knew by my own experience how easily iron carts are
broken, and how impossible it is to repair them, and I added that
under the circumstances the army would never be able to go forward
unless a road was made. I then inquired how the soldiers' knapsacks
would be carried, and General Duchesne, the Commander-in-Chief of the
Expedition, to whom I put this question, replied that "of course the
men would carry them themselves." "In that case," I said, "you may
reckon that one half of your force will have died within six months of
their landing in Madagascar."
The General said that it was all nonsense--that the men had carried
their knapsacks in the Tonkin War, and could do so quite well in
Madagascar.
My prediction unfortunately turned out perfectly correct, and nearly
six thousand men died within six months of the beginning of the
operations. A road had to be made for the iron carts, and if the
natives had not proved arrant cowards, the war would have ended in
frightful disaster. It was only due to the untiring energy of Colonel
Bailloud, who was in charge of the transport, that the troops were
enabled to receive any supplies.
What struck me most, however, in that expedition was the jealousy
between the Army and the Navy.
During the Tonkin War, the supreme command of the naval and military
forces had been vested in Admiral Corbet, and the military officers
strongly objected to being commanded by a sailor. In order, therefore,
to avoid a repetition of what had then taken place, the whole of the
flotilla which was sent to Madagascar was placed under the command of a
mere Captain, who had to take orders from the General commanding the
troops. The Navy, of course, resented what they considered a slight,
and carefully avoided helping the Army in any way. Of course they did
not openly display their rivalry, but they took good care to give no
help whatever to the Military Chiefs, allowing them to commit the
greatest blunders without warning them beforehand. For instance, the
War Office having decided to use the River Betsiboka as far as it was
navigable, a large number of steel barges were sent over to Menjunka,
which was supposed to be at the mouth of the river. Unfortunately, the
real mouth of the river stood nearly thirty miles farther inland, so
that, unless the weather was perfectly calm, the barges were swamped
before they had reached the river itself; the water on the other hand
being too shallow to enable steamers, except those of the smallest
draft, to reach the mouth. When I arrived in Madagascar, in a small
180-ton steamer I had chartered in Zanzibar, I was ordered to follow
the course of the river as far as I could go, and to make a survey on
my way, as none existed. After considerable trouble I managed to get
about seventy miles inland, and on my return to Menjunka, as I was
making my report to the General, the naval officer in command walked
into the room just as I was asking the General whether he could allow
me twenty-four hours to put my survey on paper. The naval officer
inquired what survey I was speaking of, and on being told that it was
a survey of the river, he replied that I had been wasting my time, as
his officers "had surveyed it long ago, long ago"; and he added that
he would send it to the General when he returned to his ship. He knew
perfectly well, before I left, that I had been instructed to make a
survey, but he had never offered to hand over to the General the map he
had in his possession.
Again, the Naval Commander was fully aware that a large number of
transports were coming, but he carefully abstained from advising the
War Office that there was only one steam launch at Menjunka to land the
cargo, and the consequence was that at one time there lay as many as
twenty-four steamers in the harbour, with no means of unloading them;
an average of £200 per day having to be paid for demurrage on each. I
could quote scores of similar instances, but it is not my object to
write the history of the Madagascar campaign.
In conclusion, Englishmen regard their own "little army" with a just
pride, tempered by a consciousness of its more or less obvious defects;
but when any comparison is suggested between the British forces and
the "bloated armaments" of the Continent, the pride is apt to become
humility, and deprecatory remarks are made to the effect that we do
not, of course, profess to be a great military power.
Yet how does the case really stand? Are these armed multitudes as
formidable as mere arithmetic would have us think? France, for
instance, prides herself upon being able to put in the field millions
of trained men. What does this boast amount to? Upon the outbreak of
war, in these days of rapid mobilisation, much--perhaps all--would
depend upon the troops first in the field. And these troops, upon whose
behaviour in the brunt of sudden battle the salvation of their country
might depend, would be--not a body of well-trained fighting-men,
leavened with veterans, and relying on their leaders with glad
confidence--but a crowd of half-taught lads, lacking in thews as well
as training, and led--or driven--to battle by officers whom either they
have never seen until the day of conflict, or whom they know--and hate.
As for the reserves, suffice it to say that officers of the active army
refuse to regard them seriously, and consider them merely in the light
of civilians playing at soldiering. The officers of the reserve (for
the most part promoted privates) have received no military education
worthy of the name. The non-commissioned officers and men consider the
month they have to serve every other year a hateful episode. Awkward
in their unaccustomed uniforms, they do not even look like soldiers,
and it would take months of training to convert them into such once
more. In point of efficiency they are, of course, far inferior to our
Volunteers.
But behind these stands yet another "line of defence"--the territorial
army and its reserve--an army composed of men who have a faint
recollection that they once were drilled. There is something pathetic,
as well as absurd, in picturing these middle-aged citizens in time of
war, clad in antiquated uniforms, handling unaccustomed weapons, and
painfully, if conscientiously, struggling to acquire a knowledge of
new regulations and modern drill. To sum all up, it may be true that
Providence is still on the side of the big battalions, but chiefly,
we think, when those battalions are well officered, well trained, and
animated with all the virtues of the soldier.
[Illustration]
APPENDIX A
No allusion has been made in the Introduction to the pay of officers,
nor to the actual cost of the keep of troopers. Being unable to find
any documents on which to base my calculations, I appealed to M. Urbain
Gohier, the French writer whose authority on this subject is the
greatest, and I append the reply which he very kindly sent me:
[_Translation._]
PARIS, _April 8, 1899_.
DEAR SIR,
Subjoined are the chief items of the budget for _pay_--which is
the same in all branches of the service so far as officers are
concerned.
As to the average cost of the soldier for maintenance, food,
&c., it is impossible to arrive at it.
Figures have been given from time to time, but they are purely
imaginary.
Expenses of all kinds are scattered under twenty different
headings in our budget, and the Reporter-General for that of
1899 has announced that nobody, either at the War Office or in
Parliament, can accurately dissect the expenditure.
The actual pay--of which I give you the amounts--is in
practice augmented by a mass of "indemnities," so-called, for
residence, travelling, mustering, lodging, high price of food,
office expenses, maintenance of dignity, first equipment, &c.,
varying with the nature of the employment, and the individuals
employed.
Some officers draw their bare pay, whilst others make a large
income, of which no official trace can anywhere be found.
Similarly, in the case of the men: the cost of provisions,
firing, lighting, sleeping accommodation, medical treatment
in or out of hospital, is reckoned in a lump sum, without
distinction between different branches of the service.
This extraordinary confusion is cunningly contrived to prevent
any control.
These are the items of pay: FRANCS.
Colonel 8564.21
Lieutenant-colonel 6934.74
Major and Chef d'Escadron 5797.90
Captain 3221.05
First-lieutenant 2842.11
Second-lieutenant 2652.63
Sub-lieutenant 2463.16
Adjutant 1022.00
Sergeant-major 511.00
Sergeant 401.50
Farrier 346.75
Corporal 200.75
Trumpeter 127.75
Trooper 109.50
(The N.C.O.s have 91.25 francs extra in the field.)
Note the exactitude of the above figures to a single centime,
and yet there may be in addition hundreds or even thousands of
francs handled in reality, either in money or in kind.
Always, &c.,
(_Signed_) URBAIN GOHIER.
I leave to M. Gohier the whole responsibility for these statements,
as I am not in a position to test their correctness. I may add,
however, that French officers, whatever their faults, have always
seemed to me remarkably straightforward in money matters, and even M.
Gohier--whom I cannot follow in his virulent attacks upon all officers
indiscriminately--has never even hinted that any of them enrich
themselves by dishonourable means.
APPENDIX B
Accused persons are examined by a _Juge d'instruction_ (examining
magistrate) _in camera_. Prisoners are considered guilty until they
can prove their innocence. The examining magistrate can use any means
he likes to obtain a confession; he can send a prisoner to solitary
confinement (_au secret_) for weeks, if he chooses. He collects all
information respecting the prisoner, bewilders him, lies to him if
he thinks fit, and can keep him for months in confinement, before
committing him for trial or releasing him.
In most of the cases which would be disposed of in England by a Police
Magistrate, within twenty-four hours of arrest, the accused is kept, in
France, for a period of from one to three months under lock and key,
before being tried by the _Police Correctionnelle_ (Police Court), and
in case of crimes which have to be tried by a jury the preliminary
inquiry or _instruction_ lasts from three to _eighteen_ months. Three
or four years ago in one of the celebrated cases which ended in an
acquittal, the _instruction_ of the case lasted eighteen months, during
the whole of which time the accused was kept in prison, being for a
considerable period in the strictest solitary confinement.
It is only during the last two years that a new law has been passed,
enabling accused persons to be assisted by counsel during the
_instruction_--counsel being present during the examination of the
accused. Formerly the accused was not allowed to be assisted by
counsel until the examination was closed.
As I said before, bail does not exist in France, except in rare
instances with the approval of the Minister for Justice. In such cases
bail takes the form of a deposit in cash, usually amounting to many
hundreds or even thousands of pounds.
The _Juge d'instruction_ can, however, release a prisoner off hand, or
grant him provisional liberty, but this is also very rarely done.
Limitation in the case of criminal offences, however, exists in
France. For offences which entail a maximum punishment of five years'
imprisonment, no prosecution can take place after a lapse of three
years from the date of the commission of the crime.
In the case of felonies (even in the case of murder), no prosecution
can take place after thirty years have elapsed since the crime was
committed.
On the other hand, if a citizen is accused of any crime or felony,
and he absconds, he can be tried and sentenced _par contumace_ in his
absence.
APPENDIX C
CONSTITUTION OF A SQUADRON.
_Captain in Command._
_Second Captain._
_1st Peloton_
(30 men)
1st Lieutenant
(In command)
Sergeant-major
2 Sergeants
Trumpeter
_2nd Peloton_
(30 men)
Sub-lieutenant
(In command)
Sergeant
_Caporal-fourrier_
Trumpeter
_3rd Peloton_
(30 men)
Sub-lieutenant
(In command)
Sergeant
Trumpeter
_4th Peloton_
(30 men)
2nd Lieutenant
(In command)
_Sergent-fourrier_
2 Sergeants
Trumpeter
Each _peloton_ (company) consists of three _escouades_ (squads) of ten
men, each under a corporal.
_Total._
2 Captains.
2 Lieutenants.
2 Sub-lieutenants.
1 Sergeant-major.
1 _Sergent-fourrier_.
1 _Caporal-fourrier_.
6 Sergeants.
12 Corporals.
4 Trumpeters.
120 Troopers.
Printed by _Ballantyne, Hanson & Co._
London & Edinburgh
THE QUEEN'S SERVICE
BEING THE EXPERIENCES OF A PRIVATE
SOLDIER IN THE BRITISH INFANTRY
AT HOME AND ABROAD
BY
HORACE WYNDHAM
LATE OF THE --TH REGT.
Crown 8vo, cloth. Price 3s. 6d.
_The Academy._--"A really excellent budget of information about Army
life in all its aspects. We can cordially recommend it to all who take
a personal or patriotic interest in the army."
_The Daily Mail._--"A particularly interesting and instructive book
about army life in its varied aspects. Even Mr. Kipling may learn a
great deal from these enlightening pages."
_The Daily Telegraph._--"The book is full of excellent suggestions on
matters both great and small, and should prove of much interest to the
general public. Mr. Wyndham gives a bright and amusing as well as a
faithful record, and he renders a real service in bringing home to us
the daily life of the men in the Queen's service."
_The Spectator._--"As a description of a phase of existence very little
known outside the Army itself, and in its inner details only vaguely
surmised even by the most careful officers, we think it ought to be
very interesting to many readers both inside and outside the Army.
In all his views the author is wholesome, sane, and intelligent. His
discussion of the position of gentlemen in the ranks, and scornful
repudiation of the idea of a 'regiment of gentlemen,' are both
interesting."
_The Speaker._--"Mr. Wyndham's book has, in a high degree, the
qualities of truthfulness and modesty; the author makes it his business
to tell an unvarnished tale, to put life itself upon the page; and we
may safely say that the result of his endeavour is a narrative which
can be neglected by no judicious writer upon the subject of life in the
British Army during recent years."
_The Pall Mall Gazette._--"Life as a soldier has been described
several times before, but never with such effect as in this handy and
interesting volume. The interesting matter and common sense contained
therein thoroughly recommend it to all interested in the welfare of the
Army."
_Literature._--"It is to Mr. Wyndham's advantage that he is throughout
in perfect touch with his subject, instead of treating it from
the _olim meminisse_ standpoint, which is generally misleading
and sometimes insincere. Another point in his favour is that he
is up-to-date. His work, as a whole, will probably hold good for
some years to come, as not only a readable narrative but also a
substantially accurate work of reference."
_The Outlook._--"No one interested in the contemporary condition or in
the future amelioration of the British Army can neglect such a book as
this, for it affords a remarkable glimpse of military life at the very
bottom of the ladder. It is, moreover, both lucid and temperate."
_The World._--"Gives one a very good notion of the soldier's life at
Aldershot, the Curragh, or Gib.--cleaning, drilling, feeding, mounting
guard--a life which is so like that of the ordinary housemaid, until
the guns begin to shoot. The private's grievances are set forth
moderately and convincingly. Mr. Wyndham's book, giving the soldier's
view, should point the way to those whose pressing duty it is to make
military service more popular."
_The Nottingham Guardian._--"Mr. Wyndham is gifted with no
inconsiderable power of observation, and writes in a style at once
forcible and agreeable. He gives remarkably graphic pictures of life in
barracks and in camp, and criticises with the freedom of one who has
made the subject a speciality."
LONDON: WM. HEINEMANN, 21 BEDFORD ST., W.C.
MEMOIRS OF SERGEANT BOURGOGNE
(1812-1813)
AUTHORISED TRANSLATION, FROM THE FRENCH ORIGINAL EDITED BY
PAUL COTTIN
AND
MAURICE HÉNAULT
With a Frontispiece. 8vo, cloth. Price 6s.
_The Review of Reviews._--"All imaginative pictures drawn by authors
in an attempt to depict war as it really is sink into insignificance
beside this actual record of a soldier's daily experience in the
rearguard of the Army of Moscow. The Peace Societies could desire no
more effective literature, and, if they are wise, will do all they can
to promote the sale of this book."
_The Times._--"A vivid narrative of Napoleon's ill-starred Russian
campaign as viewed from the ranks. Bourgogne was a shrewd soldier,
imbued with the national worship of Napoleon, experienced in the
wars of the Empire, and endowed with a rare narrative power. The
dramatic and tragic incidents with which his pages abound are full of
attraction."
_The Pall Mall Gazette._--"Bourgogne is, so to speak, the small-change
for De Ségur--the vernacular of that classic. The Brigadier-General
on the Staff tells you what the retreat from Moscow looked like. The
Sergeant of the Guard was in a position to tell you what it felt like.
Moreover, the Sergeant happens to be an impressionist of the convincing
sort. He not only makes you see what he saw, but he perfectly persuades
you that he saw it. So it is that the true inwardness of the ghastly
_débacle_ is shown up to you with a new vividness by the ingenuous
sidelights this literary non-com. has cast upon it."
_The Morning Post._--"These Memoirs are well written, full of
interest, and abound in dramatic situations. They have, moreover, the
recommendation of being admirably rendered into English, and read
almost like an English work."
_Literature._--"Ségur tells the story of the disastrous retreat from
the officer's point of view. Now we have the narrative of the soldier
in the ranks. Ségur was a man of culture. Bourgogne was not always sure
of his spelling. Yet the sergeant's story is the more vivid of the
two. He was no _littérateur_, yet his book, for intensity of feeling,
minuteness of description, even lucidity of style, will vie with any
romance of war."
_The Illustrated London News._--"No adventure-story ever written
approaches in interest the appalling account of the retreat from Moscow
given by Sergeant Bourgogne in his Memoirs. Poe himself could not
invent horrors more ghastly, nor describe them more graphically."
_The Daily Chronicle._--"Verily this is a human document of the most
terrible and engrossing kind we ever remember to have come across.
The annals of war are rich in tales of disaster and suffering, but
in none so dreadful as this story of the retreat of Napoleon's Grand
Army from Moscow. Sergeant Bourgogne has left us a record, of the
campaign from the point of view of the common soldier which must rank
as an unconscious masterpiece of naïve and touching war-chronicling
and characterisation. His narrative bears the hall-mark of veracity
and vivid realism. No romancer could possibly have served up such a
gruesome dish of military horrors as has now been placed before us
by Sergeant Bourgogne. Even Nansen in his 'Farthest North' pales in
interest before the frosts, the snows, and the cruel winds of this
non-commissioned Xenophon of the Imperial Guard. We can heartily
recommend this book as one of the most appalling, and at times
pathetic, pictures of the horrors of war that was ever penned."
LONDON: WM. HEINEMANN, 21 BEDFORD ST., W.C.
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.
Hyphen added: head-gear (p. 49).
Hyphen removed: headquarters (p. 31).
P. 17: "de" changed to "des" (Maréchal des Logis Chef).
P. 37: "to" added (told us to go to the Paymaster's).
P. 47: "arn't" changed to "aren't" (socks aren't regulation).
P. 89: "be" changed to "he" ("Now look here, old man," said he).
P. 110: "talking" changed to "taking" (taking off his hat).
P. 144-5: duplicate syllable at page boundary removed (hollering).
P. 171: "your're" changed to "you're" (you're holding there).
P. 202: duplicate "that" deleted (tell me that you have come here).
Ad for "The Queen's Service": "olium meminisse" changed to "olim
meminisse".