The General Inspection and the Everlasting Waiting

One of our greatest trials is the general
inspection, which takes place every
month, and once Lord Kitchener inspected the battalion, in company with the
division quartered in our town. But that
was before I joined. It involves much
labour in the way of preparation. On one
occasion, midnight the night before, a Friday,
found us still busy with our work. My
cot-mate was in difficulties with his rifle—the
cloth of the pull-through stuck in the
barrel, and he could not move it, although
he broke a bamboo cane and bent a poker
in the attempt. “It’s a case for the armoury,” he remarked gloomily. “What a
nuisance that ramrods are done away with!
We’ve been at it since eight o’clock, and
getting along A1. Now that beastly pull-through!”

[pg 100]

What an evening’s work! On the day
following the brigadier-general was to inspect
us, and we had to appear on parade
spick and span, with rifles spotless, and
every article of our equipment in good
order. Packs were washed and hung over
the rim of the table by our billet fire, web-belts
were cleaned, and every speck of mud
and grease removed. Our packs, when dry,
were loaded with overcoat, mess-tin, housewife,
razor, towel, etc., and packed tightly
and squarely, showing no crease at side
or bulge at corner. Ground-sheets were
neatly rolled and fastened on top of pack,
no overlapping was allowed; rifles were
oiled and polished from muzzle to butt-plate, and swords rubbed with emery paper
until not a single speck of rust remained.

Saturday morning found us trim and
tidy on the parade ground. An outsider
would hardly dream that we were the men who had ploughed through the muddy
countryside and sunk to the knees in the
furrowed fields daily since the wet week
began. Where was the clay that had caked
brown on our khaki, the rust that spoilt
the lustre of our swords, and the fringes
[pg 101]
that the wire fences tore on our tunics?
All gone; soap and water, a brush, needle
and thread, and a scrap of emery paper
had worked the miracle. We stood easy
awaiting the arrival of the general; platoons
sized from flanks to centres (namely, the
tallest men stood at the flanks, and the
khaki lines dwindled in stature towards
the small men in the middle), and company
officers at front and rear. The officers saw
that everything was correct, that no lace-ends
showed from under the puttees, that
no lace-eye lay idle, and that laces were not
crossed over the boots. Each man had
shaved and got his hair cut, his hat set
straight on his head, and the regimental
badge in proper position over the idle chin-strap.
Pocket-flaps and tunics were buttoned, water-bottles and haversacks hung
straight, the tops of the latter in line with
the bayonet rings, and entrenching tool
handles were scrubbed clean—my mate and I
had spent much soap on ours the night before.

One of our officers gave us instructions
as to how we had to behave during the
inspection, more especially when we were
under the direct gaze of the general.

[pg 102]

“Not a movement,” he told us. “Every
eyelash must be still. If the general asks
me your name and I make a mistake and
say you are Smith instead of Brown, your
real name, you’re not to say a word. You
are Brown for the time being. If he speaks
to you, you’re to answer: ‘Sir,’ and ‘Sir’
only to every question. If you’re asked
what was your age last birthday, ‘Sir’
is to be the only answer. Is that clear to every man?”

It was, indeed, clear, surprisingly clear;
but we wondered at the command, which
was new to us. To answer in this fashion
appeared strange to us; we thought (the
right to think is not denied to a soldier)
it a funny method of satisfying a general’s curiosity.

He came, a tall, well-set man, with stern
eyebrows and a heavy moustache, curled
upwards after the manner of an Emperor
whom we heartily dislike, attended by a
slim brigade major, who wore a rather large
eyeglass, and made several entries in his
notebook, as he followed on the heels of
the superior inspecting the battalion.

We stood, every unit of us, sphinx-like,
[pg 103]
immovable, facing our front and resigned
to our position. To an onlooker it might
seem as if we were frozen there—our fingers
glued on to our rifles and our feet firm to
the earth at an angle of forty-five degrees.
I stood near the rear, and could see the
still platoons in front, not a hat moved, not
a boot shifted. The general broke the spell when he was passing me.

“Another button. There were forty-seven
the last time,” he said, and the man with
the eyeglass made an entry in the notebook. Through an oversight, I had helped
to lower the prestige of the battalion: a
pocket flap of my tunic was unbuttoned.

Kit inspection was a business apart;
the general picked out several soldiers haphazard
and ordered their packs to be opened
for an examination of the contents—spoons,
shirts, socks, and the various necessaries
which dismounted men in full marching order
must carry on their persons were inspected
carefully. A full pack is judged best by
its contents, and nearly all packs passed
muster. One man was unlucky: his mate
was chosen for kit inspection, but this hapless
individual came out minus a toothbrush
[pg 104]
and comb, and the friend in need took his
place in the freshly-formed ranks. Here,
the helper found that his own kit was inefficient,
he had forgotten to put in a pair of
socks. That afternoon he had to do two hours’ extra drill.

Perhaps an even greater trial than Divisional
Inspection was that of waiting orders
when we were the victims of camp rumours.
But this was as nothing to the false alarms.
There is some doggerel known to the men which runs:

“We’re off to the front,” said the colonel,

as he placed us in the train,

“And we went at dawn from the station,

and at night came back again.”

For months we had drilled and drilled,
all earnest in our labours and filled with
enthusiasm for our new profession, and daily
we await the order to leave for foreign
parts. Where are we going to when we
leave England? France, Egypt, or India?
Rumour had it yesterday that we would
go to Egypt; to-day my mate, the blue-eyed Jersey youth, heard from a friend,
who heard it from a colour-sergeant, that
[pg 105]
we are going out to India, where we will
be kept as guardians of the King’s Empire
for a matter of four years. Ever since I
joined the Army it has been the same:
reports name a new destination for my battalion daily.

Afterwards we had to go and help the
remarkable Russians who passed through
England on the way to France; but when
the Russians faded from the ken of vision
and the Press Bureau denied their very
existence, it was immediately reported that
we had been drilled into shape in order to
demolish De Wet and all his South African
rebels. De Wet was captured and is now
under military control, and still we waited
orders to move from the comfortable billets
and crowded streets of our town. Dry eyes
would see us depart, mocking children would
bid us sarcastic farewells, the kindly landladies
and their fair daughters would laugh
when we bade adieu and moved away to
some destination unknown. We had already
taken our farewell three times, and
on each occasion we have come back again
to our billets before the day that saw our departure came to an end.

[pg 106]

The heart of every man thrilled with
excitement when the announcement was
made for the first time, one weary evening
when we had just completed a ten-hour
divisional field exercise. Our officer read it
from a typewritten sheet, and the announcement was as follows:

“All men in the battalion must stand
under arms until further orders. No
soldier is to leave his billet; boots are
not to be taken off, and best marching
pairs are to be worn. Every unit of
the company who lacks any part of
the necessary equipment must immediately
report at quartermaster’s stores,
where all wants will be supplied. Identity
discs to be worn, swords must be
cleaned and polished, and twenty-four
hours’ haversack rations are to be carried.
The battalion has to entrain for
some unknown destination when called
upon.”

The news spread through the town: the
division was going to move! On the morrow
we would be sailing for France, in a
fortnight we would be in Berlin! Our
[pg 107]
landladies met us at the doors as we came
in, looks of entreaty on their faces and tears
in their eyes. The hour had come; we
were going to leave them. And the landladies’ daughters? One, a buxom wench
of eighteen, kissed the Jersey youth in sight
of the whole battalion, but nobody took
any notice of the unusual incident. All
were busy with their own thoughts, and
eager for the new adventures before them.

I did not go to sleep that night; booted
and dressed I lay on the hearthrug in front
of the fire, and waited for the call. About
four o’clock in the morning a whistle was
blown outside on the street; I got to my
feet, put on my equipment, fastened the
buckles of my haversack, bade adieu to
my friends of the billet who had risen from
bed to see me off, and joined my company.

Five or six regiments were already on
the move; transport wagons, driven by
khaki-clad drivers with rifles slung over
their shoulders, lumbered through the dimly-lighted
thoroughfares; ammunition vans
stood at every street corner; guns rattled
along drawn by straining horses, the sweat
steaming from the animals’ flanks and
[pg 108]
withers; an ambulance party sped through
the greyness of the foggy morning, accompanied by a Red Cross lorry piled high
with chests and stretcher poles, and soldiers
in files and fours, in companies and columns,
were in movement everywhere—their legions seemed countless and endless.

Ammunition was given out from the
powder magazine; each man was handed
150 rounds of ball cartridge—a goodly weight
to carry on a long day’s march! With our
ammunition we were now properly equipped
and ready for any emergency. Each individual carried on his person in addition
to rifle, bayonet (sword is the military
name for the latter weapon) and ball cartridge,
a blanket and waterproof sheet, an
overcoat, a water-bottle, an entrenching
tool and handle, as well as several other
lighter necessaries, such as shirts, socks, a
knife, fork, and spoon, razor, soap, and towel.

At eight o’clock, when the wintry dawn
was breaking and the fog lifting, we entered
the station. Hundreds of the inhabitants
of the town came to see us off and cheer
us on the long way to Tipperary: and
[pg 109]
Tipperary meant Berlin. One of the inhabitants, a kindly woman who is loved by
the soldiers of my company, to whom she
is very good, came to the station as we were
leaving, and presented a pair of mittens to each of fifty men.

The train started on its journey, puffed
a feeble cloud of smoke into the air, and
suddenly came to a dead stop. Heads
appeared at the windows, and voices inquired if the engine-driver had taken the
wrong turning on the road to Berlin. The
train shunted back into the station, and
we all went back to our billets again, but
not before our officers informed us that we
had done the work of entraining very smartly,
and when the real call did come we would
lose no time on the journey to an unknown destination.

Later we had two further lessons in entraining, and we came to fear that when
the summons did come dry eyes would
watch us depart and sarcastic jibes make
heavy our leave-taking. Indeed, some of
the inhabitants of our town hinted that
we should never leave the place until the
local undertakers make a profit on our exit.
[pg 110]
So much for their gentle sarcasm! But
well they knew that one day in the near
future it would suddenly occur to our commanders
to take us with them in the train to Berlin.

[pg 111]