Dear Charles,--We haven't gone yet. Upon my word, we don't know what to
do about it. We start off for the Continent and then we halt and ask
ourselves, "Won't they be wanting us to go to Egypt and have a word with
the enemy there?" So we come back and change our underclothes and start
out again; but we haven't got far before a persistent subaltern starts a
scare about invasions. At that we halt again and have a pow-wow. Thick
underclothes for the Continent; thin underclothes for Egypt, but what
underclothes for home defence? And that, old man, is the real difficulty
about war: what clothes are you to make it in? Our official programme
is, however, clearly defined now. It is this: We sail on or
about ---- to ----, and thence to ----, pausing for a cup of tea at ----.
We then change direction left and turn down by the butcher's shop and up
past the post-office. Here we form fours, form two deep, slope arms,
order arms, present arms, trail arms, ground arms, take up arms, pile
arms, unpile arms, move to the right in fours, by the left, left wheel.
The essence of these manoeuvres is that they make it impossible for
even the most acute enemy to guess which is our real direction. He
gathers that it is one of two things: it is either right or, failing
that, left. But which? Ah, that is the secret! Sometimes I am in some
doubt myself after having given the order.
Our musical _repertoire_ is extensive, and, I venture to think, very
aptly and poetically expresses the feelings of soldiers in the several
aspects of military life. Their deep-seated respect for ceremonial is
expressed thus, to the _Faust_ airs:--
"All soldiers live on bread and jam;
All soldiers eat it instead o' ham.
And every morning we hear the Colonel say,
'Form fours! Eyes right! Jam for dinner to-day!'"
His heart's sorrow upon leaving his fatherland is rendered exactly
thus:--
"The ship is now in motion;
We're going to cross the Ocean.
Good bye-er!
Fare-well-er!
Farewell for ever-mo-er!"
And lastly his deep concern for his country's and his own and
everybody's welfare is thus put:--
"I don't care if the ship goes down,
It doesn't belong to me."
We had a Divisional Field Day yesterday. Recollecting a previous
experience, the G.O.C. sent for his three Brigadiers, when the division
was assembled for action, and, it seems, said to them, "There must be
less noise." The Brigadiers, returning to the field, called out each his
four battalion-commanders and said to them, distinctly, "There must be
less noise." The twelve battalion-commanders called out each his eight
company-commanders, who called out each his four section-commanders, and
in every instance was repeated, quite audibly, the same utterance,
"There must be less noise." Three hundred and eighty-four
section-commanders were engaged in impressing this order, with all the
emphasis it deserved, upon the men, when the General rode on to the
field. His anger was extreme. "THERE MUST BE LESS NOISE!" said he.
Yours ever,
Henry.
* * * * *
"The Press also avoids very carefully all discussion of the status
of the Goeben and the Breslau. Practically the only reference to the
subject is a remark in the _Frankfurter Zeitung_ that Turkey has
alone to decide what ships are to fly under her flag."--_Times._
If Turkey decides that the _Goeben_ is to fly, we hope she will warn the
man who works the searchlights at Charing Cross.
* * * * *
Illustration: A GLORIOUS EXAMPLE.
ABLE-BODIED CIVILIAN (_to Territorial_). "THAT OUGHT TO GIVE YOU A GOOD
LEAD, MATE."