In spite of oft-repeated warnings--in spite of the fact that I
personally explained to each sentry that all he had to remember was
that there were only seven different kinds of military passes, each
one of different colour and all with dates, stamps and signatures,
and that there was no difficulty in recognising its validity if a
pass had the right British official stamp and so long as the signature
underneath was one of the twenty-four people authorised to sign
(a list of which would be kept in every sentry-box and constantly
revised), and if the number of the pass, the name of the person, his
address, destination, habits, hobbies and past life tallied exactly
with the information on his "personal Ausweis," which must be produced
except in the case of a licence to proceed by bicycle, which differed,
of course, in colour, shape, size and other small details (which would
have to be learnt by heart) from the licence to carry foodstuffs--in
spite, also, of the fact that all necessary details of the
examination of passes were typewritten in not more than three pages
of the clearest official language and were posted up in every
sentry-box--even then that ass Nijinsky let the whole company down by
passing a member of the Intelligence Police through the line on his
giving his word of honour that it was all right.
The result was, of course, that I received official intimation that
our line could apparently be broken at any time and that "steps must
be taken," etc., etc. I took steps in the direction of Nijinsky.
Nijinsky is a Polish Jew (from Commercial Road, E.) and has long been
the despair of his platoon sergeant. He is fat where there is no
need to be fat, his clothes bulge where no clothes are expected to
bulge, and he is the kind of man who loses a cap-badge once a week,
preferably just before the C.O. comes round. There is only one saving
grace about him. He can always be trusted to volunteer for a dull
lecture or outing to which nobody else wants to go, but to which
certain numbers have to be sent. His invariable reply to the question
is, "Yiss, I'll ger-go, it's ser-something for ner-nothing."
I found him, as I expected, hanging round the cookhouse, and taxed
him with his neglect of duty.
"He ter-told me I ought to use my dis-cretion, Sir," he piped in his
high plaintive voice.
I told him severely that it was a trick, a very palpable trick, and
that he must ever be on the alert for all such kinds of evasion.
Finally, when I had informed him how badly he had let us all down, he
waddled away contrite and tearful, and fully under the impression,
I think, that I should probably lose my commission through his
negligence.
I did not realise how deeply he had taken the matter to heart until
I found him at his post apparently reading the Riot Act to a crowd of
obsequious Huns, who were listening patiently to the written law as
expounded in Yiddish--that being a language in which he succeeds in
making himself partially understood. The incident passed, but I began
to have fears that the reformed rake might prove a greater danger than
ever.
The next day my worst fears were realised. In fact, during my
temporary absence Nijinsky surpassed himself. At eleven o'clock the
General, supported by his Staff, rolled up in his car and stopped at
Nijinsky's post on his way into "neutral" country. The General, the
G.S.O.1, the D.A.Q.M.G. and the A.D.C. got out, shining, gorgeous
and beflowered with foreign decorations, to chat to the sentry
(you've seen pictures of it; it's always being done), Nijinsky, who
had already turned back two innocuous Gunner Colonels (armed with
sporting guns) that morning, sauntered up, drunk with newly acquired
confidence, his rifle slung on his right shoulder and his hat over one
eye.
"All well here, sentry?" asked the General, towering over him in all
his glory.
"Pup-pass, please," said Nijinsky, ever on the look-out for some
cunning trick.
"Oh, that's all right; I'm General Blank."
The word "General" recalled Nijinsky to his senses. He unslung his
rifle, brought it to the order, brought it to the slope and presented
arms with great solemnity, and as only Nijinsky can.
"Oh--er--stand easy," said the General, when the meaning of these
evolutions was made manifest to him. "Wonderful days for you fellows
here--what? There have been times when the Rhine seemed a long way
away, didn't it? And now here you are, a victorious army guarding that
very river! It's a wonderful time for you, and no doubt you appreciate
it?"
"Ger-grub's short," said Nijinsky.
"Rations?" said the D.A.Q.M.G. "I've had no complaints."
"Yiss. No spuds--taters, I mean."
"We must see to that," said the General. "Well, we'll go on, I think;"
and they got into the car.
"Pup-pass, please," said Nijinsky, spotting the trick at once.
"Oh, that's all right, my good fellow. Drive on."
"N-n-no," said Nijinsky sternly; "you ker-can't ger-go without a
pup-pup-pass!"
"Come, come, don't be ridiculous. I'm your General; you know me
perfectly well."
"Yiss."
"Then let me through, do you hear? And let me have no more of this
infernal nonsense."
"It's ug-ug--"
"It's what?"
"Ug-against orders."
"_I_ know all about the orders, boy. I gave them myself."
"Yiss, and I'm ker-carrying them out, ain't I?" came with inexorable
logic.
"Well, now I give you orders to let me through. Do you see?"
"Yiss; but if I do they'll have me up for disobeying the fer-first
one. Pup-pass, please."
"Don't be ridiculous. We _must_ go through. Don't you realise we have
our duty to perform?"
"Yiss, Sir, so have I."
"'Pon my soul, this is too preposterous. My good boy, I'm very glad
you know how to obey an order, but you must use your discretion
sometimes."
At the word "discretion" Nijinsky started. Then he broke all records
and winked--winked at a perfectly good General at eleven o'clock in
the morning.
"Oh, no, you der-don't," he grinned; "I've been her-had before. The
Captain says I'm ner-not to use my discretion; it only ger-gets me
into a lot of terouble."
The General got out of his car. So did the G.S.O.1. So did the
D.A.Q.M.G. So did the A.D.C. But the spectacle was not so impressive
as before. They advanced in artillery formation upon the enemy. It was
enough. Perish the General Staff! They were mere phantoms of authority
beside the vision of the company officer and the words, "Escort and
accused--halt. Left--turn. Private Nijinsky, Sir." With his eyes
bulging with excitement Nijinsky leapt back and assumed the attitude
of warlike defiance known as "coming on guard."
The General hesitated. He did not know Nijinsky, you see; he had
never seen him going sick before the battle, or heard him murmur
"ser-something for ner-nothing," as he took his medicine.
"Look here, my man, you are exceeding your duty and the consequences
will be very serious. I will _not_ be stopped in this outrageous
manner! There is a time to _obey_ orders and there is a time to _use
our discretion_. Confound it, we must _all_ of us use our discretion
at times."
"Then," said Nijinsky, "wer-will you per-please use yours, for. I
ker-can't let you through without a pup-pass."
The sun shone brightly on the car as it retired ignominiously, leaving
Nijinsky hot, happy and victorious, presenting arms faithfully to the
indignant Great Ones, and silence reigned on the battlefield.
He came and spluttered it all out to me afterwards, concluding with
"I der-didn't let the ker-company down this time, Sir, der-did I?" and
evidently expected a pat on the back for it.
Teams of infuriated artillery horses wouldn't drag from me whether
he got it or not, but from that day to this he has never looked back.
Indeed he has begun to take a pride in his personal appearance and
general smartness. I met him yesterday wearing a smile like a slice
of melon and with his boots, and buttons glistening in the sunshine.
"The General came through to-day, Sir," he said, beaming, "and he
her-had a pup-pass all right;" and he strutted on, making strange
noises in his throat, which I understand is the Yiddish for being
pleased with yourself.