|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 22
And our enemies? Having finished their day's work they were now
fifteen minutes' march ahead of us on the way back to their rest and
rations.
CHAPTER VIII
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!"
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 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.
"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.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|