THE PULLING OF PERCY'S LEG.
It was one of those calm quarters of an hour which sometimes happen even in a Y.M.C.A. canteen. Private Penny, leaning over the counter, consumed coffee and buns and bestowed spasmodic confidences upon me as I cut up cake into the regulation slices.
"Oxo and biscuits, please," broke in a languid voice suddenly, and a pale young man with an armlet approached the counter. I turned away for the cup, and Private Penny, laying down his mug, addressed the newcomer.
"Who are you?" he inquired genially.
The young man surveyed him with cold superiority; then he turned to me.
"I'm a Derby man, you see," he began complacently. "A lot of pals'll be here presently, and we're all going to join this afternoon. They're late."
"And what," I asked with resentment, for Private Penny was a friend of mine, "are you going to join?"
It appeared that this superior person, after unprejudiced consideration of the matter, had decided to join the A.S.C. He said he considered he would be of most use in the A.S.C.; he said he was specially designed and constructed by Providence for the A.S.C.; he said....
And then suddenly we became aware that Private Penny was mourning gently to himself over a dough-nut.
"Pore chap!" he was muttering, "pore young feller—'e don't know. None of 'em knows till it's too late, and then they finds their mistake. No good to tell 'em—pore chap, pore chap—so pleased over it, too!"
"What's that you're saying?" the youth cut in anxiously.
"Young man," said Private Penny very solemnly, "if you'd take my advice—the advice of one that's served his country twelve months at the Front—you'd let the Army Service Corps alone. Not that I'm doubting you're a plucky young feller enough, but you ain't up to that. It's nerve you want for it. Well, I wouldn't take it on myself, and I'm pretty well seasoned. Why, you 'ave to go calmly into the mouth of 'ell with supplies, over the open ground, when the Infantry's safe and snug in the trenches. You ain't strong enough for it—reely you ain't."
"Er—" hesitated the young man.
"Well, I had thought of the R.A.M.C. Mother's idea was——"
Private Penny groaned. "You know," he said with emotion, "I've took a kind of fancy to you, Percy. And if it's me dying breath I says—don't! That kind of work ain't right nor proper for the likes of you. Why, you 'ave to go out in the field there (and you ain't even armed, nor protected, mind you!) and you 'ave to see the most orrerble sights! Can't I tell by yer face, can't I see with me understanding eyes that you're the sort that would go mad in no time if you 'ad some o' them things to do? If it's me last word——" Emotion choked him.
Percy looked wildly around. "There's the Artillery," he gasped, "if that's your advice."
Private Penny burst into a sob of uncontrollable anguish. "Percy," he moaned, "if you want to break me heart, that's the way to do it! Say I've advised you to that, if you like, but it ain't true. With all me soul I says—don't do it. Think, dear boy, think. Kinsider the guns!—the noise—the smoke—the smell—the bursting shells all round—the mad horses and mules everywhere. If you 'ave any affection for me in your 'eart, Percival, leave the guns alone! If you can't control your courage for my sake—your fool'ardiness, Percy!—think of all your dear ones at 'ome and turn back before it is too late!"
Percy shuddered. "I might try the Engineers," he said hopelessly, "but I don't——"
"If," said Private Penny in the still tones of despair, "I have druv you to this, I shall cut me throat. I can't live with that on me conscience. 'Ave you thought of the danger of mining and sapping? 'Ave you kinsidered field telegrafts? 'Ave you—'ot-'eaded and impulsive as you are—'ave you kinsidered anything? Percy, if you're set on this job, tell me quick, and put me out of me agony!"
"No," said Percy abruptly. "But"—with sudden misgiving—"w-what can I do? I'm on my way to join and I must join something."
Private Penny pushed his mug over to be re-filled. "I'm an infantryman myself," he said carelessly, "and I speaks as one that knows. And wot I says is—if you wants a cheerful protected kinder life, with a quiet 'ole to 'ide yer 'ead in—if you wants rest and comfort, kimbined with plenty o' fresh air—if you wants to serve yer King and country without any danger to yer 'ealth, then the infantry's the life for you, and the trenches is the place to spend it in. Ain't I been out there one solid year, and no 'arm 'appened to me yet? It's child's play, that it is, sitting there in a 'ole, with big guns booming over you protective-like from be'ind and killing all the enemy in front for you. And yer food and yer love-letters brought to you regular, and doctors and parsons to see you whenever you feels queer. Take my advice, Percy my son—join the Infantry at once and make sure of a gentleman's life. I've took a fancy to you, and I tells you straight." And he eclipsed himself behind his replenished mug.
"Thank you very much," said Percy gratefully, "I can see that the Infantry is the place for me. I shall insist upon joining it. Thank you very much for all your advice——"
At this moment a great wave of khaki burst into the room and swept to the counter, clamouring for attention. On the crest of it came Percy's friends in mufti, and once, across the tumult, his voice reached my ears. "... quite decided...." he was saying loftily, "some infantry regiment or other just seems...." and he was jostled away in the centre of an admiring group.
Involuntarily I looked across at Private Penny.
One eye met mine from behind an upturned mug, and the lid fell and rose again, once, rapidly; he too had heard.
"A Council of War in the Desert.
"British Officers are here seen holding a 'bow-wow.'"—Western Weekly News.
Very natural. In the desert most days are "dog-days."
Colonel (on a round of inspection, during prolonged pause in manœuvres). "And what is the disposition of your men, Sergeant?"
Sergeant. "Fed-up, Sir!"