There was a moor among woods with a pond in a hollow, the centre of a
world of tents whose population was North-Country. One heard it from far
off.
‘Yo’ mun trail t’ pick an’ t’ rifle at t’ same time. Try again,’ said
the instructor.
An isolated company tried again with set seriousness, and yet again.
They were used to the pick—won their living by it, in fact—and so,
favoured it more than the rifle; but miners don’t carry picks at the
trail by instinct, though they can twiddle their rifles as one twiddles
walking-sticks.
They were clad in a blue garb that disguised all contours; yet their
shoulders, backs, and loins could not altogether be disguised, and these
were excellent. Another company, at physical drill in shirt and
trousers, showed what superb material had offered itself to be worked
upon, and how much poise and directed strength had been added to that
material in the past few months. When the New Army gets all its new
uniform, it will gaze at itself like a new Narcissus. But the present
kit is indescribable. That is why, English fashion, it has been made
honourable by its wearers; and our world in the years to come will look
back with reverence as well as affection on those blue slops and that
epileptic cap. One farseeing commandant who had special facilities has
possessed himself of brass buttons, thousands of ‘em, which he has added
to his men’s outfit for the moral effect of (_a_) having something to
clean, and (_b_) of keeping it so. It has paid. The smartest regiment in
the Service could not do itself justice in such garments, but I managed
to get a view of a battalion, coming in from a walk, at a distance which
more or less subdued the—er—uniform, and they moved with the elastic
swing and little quick ripple that means so much. A miner is not
supposed to be as good a marcher as a townsman, but when he gets set to
time and pace and learns due economy of effort, his developed back and
shoulder muscles take him along very handsomely. Another battalion fell
in for parade while I watched, again at a distance. They came to hand
quietly and collectedly enough, and with only that amount of pressing
which is caused by fear of being late. A platoon—or whatever they call
it—was giving the whole of its attention to its signalling instructors,
with the air of men resolved on getting the last flicker of the last
cinema-film for their money. Crime in the military sense they do not
know any more than their fellow-innocents up the road. It is hopeless to
pretend to be other than what one is, because one’s soul in this life is
as exposed as one’s body. It is futile to tell civilian lies—there are
no civilians to listen—and they have not yet learned to tell Service
ones without being detected. It is useless to sulk at any external
condition of affairs, because the rest of the world with which a man is
concerned is facing those identical conditions. There is neither poverty
nor riches, nor any possibility of pride, except in so far as one may do
one’s task a little better than one’s mate.