Story 4—Chapter 1.
John Armstrong, the Soldier; or, Barrack and Camp Life, written by himself.
I do not think that any one will care to know why I turned soldier. This much I may say, though; my native village was not far off some barracks within twenty miles of London; I had often watched the soldiers at drill, and had talked to a good many of them, till I fancied that I knew something about a soldier’s life. Now I wish to tell you what it really is, not only in comfortable barracks at home, but in camp abroad, in heat and cold, and before the enemy. I had my reasons for wishing not to enlist near home, and so bidding my parents and brothers and sisters good-bye, they not crying out, “Don’t go,” at break of day, one fine October morning, in the year 1850, started off for London without a penny in my pocket, or any other property than the clothes on my back, good health, and a stout heart.
I had walked a fair bit of the way, when I felt very hungry. I had taken nothing before I left home. Food I must have. Before me I saw a public-house, The Rabbits. A number of people were in the bar-room. “I’ll tell them I’m going for a soldier, and
ask for food. They’ll not refuse me,” I thought. I stepped in, and told them my tale. They all seemed much pleased. “You must have pluck in you, my lad, to do that,” said one; “you deserve a breakfast.”
“You’ll have no want of masters,” observed another. “Still somebody must do the work.” Most of them had some remark to make. In the end, they ordered me a thorough good breakfast of eggs and ham, and hoped I might never have a worse wherever I might go. This set me up till I reached the Tower of London, near the Thames, where I had been advised to go. The Guards were doing duty there. A sergeant I met asked me if I wished to join them. I said, “Yes.” So he at once placed me under a mark to measure my height, but I was not tall enough for the Guards. He then asked me if I would like to join any other regiment. I answered, “Yes; I’ve no choice.” He seemed pleased, and at once marched me off to Westminster, at the other end of London, where a recruiting company was stationed. He there took me to a sergeant of the 44th regiment of foot. After I had wished my old friend good-bye, my new friend asked me should I pass the doctor’s examination if I wished to join them. Of course I said “Yes.” And after he had asked me whether I was “married” or “a widower,” to which I said “No;” with other questions, he put out his hand, and offered me a shilling, in the name of Her Majesty the Queen. I took it, and was from that moment a soldier, provided I passed the usual examination. I felt very tired, and somewhat out of spirits with so many strangers in different uniforms around me, and was very glad when the sergeant told me that he had paid for a bed for me, and that I might go to it whenever I liked. I was very thankful to put my head on the pillow. Thus ended my first day in the army. I had time next morning to think over some good advice given me by an old sergeant at the barracks.
“Remember, my lad,” said he, “when you get your pay, don’t scatter it about as if it would never come to an end. There’s nothing you so soon see the last of. When you find one of your new comrades particularly civil, find out what sort of a man he really is before you treat him or lend him cash. If a non-commissioned officer is very polite and slackens the reins of discipline to favour you, stand clear of him. He’ll pluck you clean and then eat you up. Keep out of temptation, and show that you are going to be a sober, steady man, by consorting only with those who are sober and steady. Never lose your temper, even when wronged by a superior. Be smart in learning the drills and all your other duties. It is better to be thought well of by your officers and by a few good men, than by all the wild chaps in the regiment. And remember, Jack, my boy, what an old soldier says, that while you do your duty to your Queen and your country, you do not forget your duty to your God. A man may be a good soldier and a good Christian at the same time. He’ll be all the better soldier by being a good Christian. To know how to be that, read your Bible, lad, say your prayers, and attend the house of prayer whenever you can.”
I wish that I had always followed my old friend’s advice. I did often remember it, and gained much advantage from having done so.
I was down by six o’clock; and in the common room I met a number of young men just enlisted, like myself. There was plenty of talking—questions asked and answered: “What regiment are you for?”
“Where do you come from?”
“Why did you enlist?”
“Do you think you’ll pass the doctor?”
This talk was interrupted by the sergeant exclaiming, “Now then, you youngsters, look out, and get ready for the doctor’s inspection.”
“We haven’t had any breakfast; we want breakfast,” cried several voices.
On this the sergeant ordered in breakfast for us, in the shape of a half-quartern loaf and two ounces of butter for every four recruits. That over, we were marched to the bath-rooms.
“Now then, young ’uns, strip; get into that bath; scrub and clean yourselves,” cried the sergeant; “for it’s time that you were at the inspection-room.”
Having done as we were ordered, we marched off to the inspection-room, where we waited till the doctor arrived, who was to say whether or not we had bodily health and strength to serve Her Majesty. We had been waiting, not a little anxious, when the sergeant cried out—
“Recruit Armstrong, pass at once into the inspection-room.”
On hearing my name, I ran into the room. The doctor looked at me for a moment, and then said—
“Stand on one leg.” I did so. “Now on the other. Bend over until you touch the ground.”
I had seen the recruits at the barracks do that, and had tried it often; so did it with ease.
“Rise again,” said the doctor. “Hop on your right leg. Now on your left. Put out your arms at right angles to your body. Cough. Can you see well? Read those dots.”
“Four, sir,” said I.
“How many are there now?”
“Two.”
“Pull that machine. Blow that machine. That will do; you can go,” said the doctor. “Sergeant-major, send in the next one.”
There were thirteen of us sent in one after the other; but only two, Dick Marshall, a Suffolk lad, and myself, were passed,—the rest having some defect which made them unfit for soldiers.
On our return, the sergeant asked Marshall and me if we would mind being transferred to the 90th regiment, stationed at Manchester.
We answered, “Not in the least.”
On that we handed back our shillings to the sergeant of the 44th regiment; the recruiting-sergeant of the 90th Light Infantry putting fresh shillings in our hands, and thus enlisting us in his regiment. We were then taken to a magistrate, and sworn in to serve Her Majesty for a period of ten years, if at home; or if on foreign service, not to exceed twelve.
We finished our day with a dinner, of which I may say that I have eaten many a better; and we then took a stroll about Westminster, and had a look at the fine old abbey and the Houses of Parliament, where the laws are made. I may just remark that a soldier, if he keeps his eyes open, and himself out of the beer-shop, may, wherever he goes, see a number of places and things worth seeing, which will give him something to think about and talk about to the end of his life.
The next day, after breakfast, we were marched off to “pass the colonel;” that is, that he might see us, and say whether he would have us. He arrived at noon.
“Now, my boy, get under that standard,” said he to me.
I did so, and found that I measured five feet six and three-quarter inches.
“Is he all right, doctor?” he asked. “Perfectly so, sir,” was the answer. “That will do, my boy; you can go.” The trial I thought so much about was over. Marshall and I had now a few shillings handed over to us, and were fast bound for our agreed-on term of servitude, unless at any time we might be able to buy ourselves out of the army. For the next three days we had nothing to do but eat our meals and walk about till five o’clock, when we had to appear at the rendezvous; that is, the house where the recruiting-officer had his head-quarters.
On a dark morning—the 5th of November—we were roused up at half-past four, and, after parade, were marched off to the railway-station to proceed to Manchester, the barracks at which place we reached at ten at night. We were at once sent to a room full of beds, ranged along the two walls. All were occupied except two, which were turned up. These were soon made ready, and Marshall and I crept into them. We did not speak to any of the men, and no one took any notice of us. Though we were both well tired, what with the strangeness of the place, and the sentinel every half-hour calling out the number of his post and “All’s well,” neither of us could sleep till near morning, when the bugle’s sound quickly made us start to our feet. In about five minutes the bedding of each bed was neatly folded up, and the iron bedstead turned up over it, with a pair of trowsers, folded into three parts, placed on each, and a forage-cap and stock above. A line was then stretched along the room to see if all the beds were made up of the exact size. This done, the orderly-sergeant came into the room to see that everything was correctly arranged; and if any bed was not done up properly, it was immediately pulled to pieces, to be done up by the owner afresh. All the men not on duty, except the recruits, turned out for half an hour’s drill in undress uniform. The orderly-sergeant having taken down Marshall’s name and mine in his memorandum-book, went out to drill his company. They were dismissed at half-past seven, but the recruits were kept a quarter of an hour longer, when the breakfast bugle sounded. The room orderly, I should say, is a man told off to keep the room in order, to draw all rations for the day for his room, to have meat and vegetables weighed, to see that they are correct in quantity and quality, and to take them to the cook of his company. At the sound of the bugle, the orderly-men ran to the cook-house for their coffee, a pint of which was served out to each man in a white basin, with a pound of somewhat brownish bread. Breakfast over, the orderlies cleared away, while the rest of the men commenced cleaning their appointments for parade, which was to be at eleven o’clock. This was in full uniform and light marching order. The recruits were to appear in plain clothes.
A sergeant came to Marshall and me, and told us to fall in. He then put us through our facings.
“Right dress. Eyes front. Stand at ease,” he exclaimed.
From having often stood at ease, when watching the men drilling, without thinking of what I was about, I fell into the proper position.
“To what regiment did you belong, young man, before you joined the 90th?” asked the sergeant, thinking that he had caught a deserter.
“To none,” I answered.
“Not so sure of that,” said he.
“A man may have learned to drill without being a soldier,” I remarked quietly.
He said nothing; but I had better have held my tongue.
After the parade, we fell in and proceeded to the orderly-room, where the colonel again inspected us, and asked the usual questions: “Can you read?”
“Yes.”
“Can you write?”
“Yes.” And so on.
“That will do, lad,” said the colonel. “Sergeant-major, that recruit will be posted to F Company.”
The sergeant of that company advanced. “Now, my lad,” said he, “come on.”
I followed him to the room to which I was posted, where he directed an old soldier to look after me and give me all necessary information. My instructor’s name was Higgins. He was a good-natured man, and had seen much service, on the strength of which he indulged in the pleasure of grumbling and finding fault with things in general, rather than with people in particular. After he had showed me the bed which I was to consider my own, and other things, the men came about me, and asked me a number of questions, which I answered frankly; and thus the time passed till one o’clock, when dinner was ready.
The dinner was a very good one, and all the mess things, plates, basins, knives, forks, and spoons, struck me as being very nice and clean. Higgins asked me to sit down; but, as I cast my eye over my rough not over-clean countrified dress, I felt ashamed of myself among so many fine-looking red jackets, forgetting that every man present had once been much in the same state that I then was. All, however, went pleasantly enough till three o’clock, when the recruits fell in for drill, as did the regiment. The drill of the regiment lasted only half an hour, while ours lasted an hour. Our drill-sergeant,
Herbert, a jolly good fellow, called us to the position of attention. After we had been drilling for some time, he asked, as the other sergeant had done, if I had before been in the army; and when I told him that I had not, he ordered me to stand at ease. My comrade kept eyeing me whenever he could, wondering what was going to happen. I now learned what I have since found always to be the case, that every scrap of knowledge which a man can pick up is likely to come into use some day or other. The drilling I had got on W— Common for my amusement now did me good service. It, in the first place, gained me Sergeant Herbert’s favour, and, making me feel superior to the other recruits, gave me self-respect, which helped me much to keep steady. On being dismissed drill, I went to my room, where Higgins began to teach me the “bugle sounds,” and another old soldier “the manual drill,” and other things; so that I soon found out that, whatever I might think of myself, I had plenty yet to learn.
At half-past four we went to tea, each man getting a pint of tea and a quarter of a pound of white bread. After that meal, some in dress and others in undress uniform, went into town; others remained in barracks, playing drafts and other games, until “tattoo,” at half-past eight, when the first post sounded, and all men about the town, on hearing it, immediately returned to barracks, or should have done so. In the meantime the orderly-sergeants called the rolls of the respective rooms, noted all the men absent, and gave lists of them to the regimental orderly-sergeant. He again called the roll, and reported all still absent to the officer of the day, who reported them to the adjutant (Note 1). On receiving the report, the adjutant sent the pickets (Note 2) out to bring them in, when those out without leave were confined to barracks, or received some other punishment the following day. This done, the staff and non-commissioned officers (Note 3) are dismissed to their rooms.
Such was my first day in barracks, and such were many days of my life afterwards. Such indeed is a soldier’s ordinary day. On the Sunday there is a parade instead of drills, and the men are marched to their respective churches; those of the Church of England to theirs, the Presbyterians to theirs, the Roman Catholics to theirs. On the last day of the month, the regiment falls in for parade generally, in England, in great coats, when every man borne on its strength must answer to his name, or be accounted for as “on duty,” “on furlough,” “in imprisonment,” “deserted,” “deceased,” “in hospital.” Regiments are also marched out of barracks into the country with bands playing and colours flying, and there are reviews and sham fights occasionally. Soldiers, too, are placed as sentries before officers’ quarters and other places, and they have many other duties to perform even in the piping times of peace. I shall soon have to show the life they lead in war-time. Theirs is not an idle life, but still they have plenty of time for amusement, and what is more, for improving themselves if they will but wisely take advantage of it.
Note 1. The adjutant is chosen from among the lieutenants or captains, for his steadiness and knowledge of military duties. He is the commanding officer’s principal assistant. All orders are passed through him, and he has to see that the young officers and non-commissioned officers are perfect in their drill, and many other things.
Note 2. A picket is a body of men told off for these and other duties. A camp is guarded by them. An out-lying picket is placed at some distance from it to give notice of the approach of an enemy.
Note 3. Non-commissioned officers are chosen from among the men for their superior knowledge and steadiness. They are so called because they are appointed by the colonel, and have not received commissions from the Queen. Many, however, for their bravery and high conduct, have received commissions, and have risen to be captains, and even to higher rank. Those thus promoted frequently become adjutants of their regiments.