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Page 10
Accurate and precise in every detail, they know the outs and ins of
platoon and company drill, and can handle scores and hundreds of men
with the ease and despatch of artists born to their work. Where
have these officers, fresh youngsters with budding moustaches and
white, delicate hands, learned all about frontage, file, flank,
and formation, alignment, echelon, incline, and interval? Words of
direction and command come so readily from their lips that I was
almost tempted to believe that they had learned as easily as they
taught, that their skill in giving orders could only be equalled by
the ease with which I supposed they had mastered the details of their
work. Later I came to know of the difficulty that confronts the young
men, raw from the Officers' Training Corps, when they take up their
preliminary duties as commanders of trained soldiers. No "rooky" fresh
to the ranks is the butt of so many jokes and such biting sarcasm as
the young officer is subjected to when he takes his place as a leader
of men.
Soon after my arrival in our town a score of young lieutenants came
to our parade ground, accompanied by two commanders, a keen-eyed
adjutant, brisk as a bell, and a white-haired colonel with very thin
legs, and putties which seemed to have been glued on to his shins. The
young gentlemen were destined for various regiments, and most of them
were fresh and spotless in their new uniforms. Some wore Glengarry
bonnets, kilts, and sporrans, some the black ribbons of Wales; one,
whose hat-badge proclaimed the Dublin Fusilier, was conspicuous by the
eyeglass he wore, and others were still arrayed in civilian garb, the
uniform of city and office life. Several units of my battalion were
taken off to drill in company with the strange officers. I was one of
the chosen.
The young men took us in hand, acting in turn as corporals, platoon
sergeants, and company commanders. The gentleman with the eyeglass had
charge of my platoon, and from the start he cast surreptitious glances
at a little red brochure which he held in his hand, and mumbled words
as if trying to commit something to memory.
"Get to your places," the adjutant yelled to the officers. "Hurry up!
Don't stand there gaping as if you're going to snap at flies. We've
got to do some work. There's no hay for those who don't work. Come on,
Weary, and drill your men; you with the eyeglass, I mean! I want you
to put the company through some close column movements."
The man with the eyeglass took up his position, and issued some order,
but his voice was so low that the men nearest him could not hear the
command.
"Shout!" yelled the adjutant. "Don't mumble like a flapper who has
just got her first kiss. It's not allowed on parade."
The order was repeated, and the voice raised a little.
"Louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant. Then with fine irony: "These
men are very interested in what you've got to tell them.... I don't
think."
Eyeglass essayed another attempt, but stopped in the midst of his
words, frozen into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant.
"For heaven's sake, try and speak up," the adjutant said. "If you
don't talk like a man, these fellows won't salute you when they meet
you in the street with your young lady. On second thoughts, you had
better go back and take up the job of platoon sergeant. Come on,
Glengarry, and try and trumpet an order."
Glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a sturdy youth with sloping
shoulders, took up his post nervously.
"A close column forming column of fours," he cried in a shrill treble,
quoting the cautionary part of his command. "Advance in fours from the
right; form fours--right!"
"Form fours--where?" roared the adjutant.
"Left," came the answer.
"Left, your grandmother! You were right at first. Did you not know
that you were right?... Where's Eyeglass, the platoon sergeant, now?
Who's pinched him?"
This unfortunate officer had dropped his eyeglass, and was now groping
for it on the muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search.
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