This was handed to me on my way to the War Office, and taking it to the City, I obtained the names of three respectable pig salesmen. Going to one shop in Smithfield, I asked, “What can you do for me, about 600 pigs on Tuesday next?” The man said, “Are they ‘Lights’ or ‘Heavies’?” Now I knew something about Light and Heavy cavalry, but the term as regards pigs was unfathomable, and like Tittlebat Titmouse,[284] I said, “Little of both.” The salesman looked me over, and contemptuously declined to quote a price, and so going farther down to another firm I repeated the question, only putting it, “What can you get me for ‘Lights,’ and what for ‘Heavies’?” and having obtained an answer, I went outside, and telegraphed it to Wrench, adding, “Have you tried at Londonderry?”
Londonderry bought all our pigs, and after six months’ quarrel the Land League giving in, rescinded their notice about the carriers, my brother-in-law’s whole loss in the transaction being something less than a hundred pounds.
I took over the Command of the Eastern District from General White on the 31st March, and spent therein three very happy years. As soon as I had finished the inspection of the Regulars, and ten Militia, and all the Volunteer Battalions in the district, I turned my attention to “Long distance rides” for the Cavalry, and to initiating the practice of Night marches for the Infantry, beginning by training Officers and Sergeants, and the progress in the Army is shown by the fact that now brigades march many miles by compass bearings without difficulty, whereas, when I began at Colchester, the units became excited, and lost their way, in crossing diagonally the Abbey Field, the parade ground, of a few hundred yards in extent. Both officers and men took much interest in their work, the Artillery binding their gun-wheels with straw, to deaden the sound.
Most soldiers know the story of a sentry posted in the garden of the Kremlin at Moscow, over a plant in which the Empress Catherine was interested. The plant died in the winter, but the sentry post was maintained for over a hundred years. I believe, however, many of my comrades did not realise until the Boer War, the absurdities to be seen in our garrisons. It was so easy under most Generals to get a sentry posted; few even thought of removing a guard!
The day I assumed command at Colchester a sentry “Presented Arms” to me at the office. “What does he do here?” “Oh, sir, he is your sentry.” “Send him away; I don’t want him.” Next day I asked, “Why is he still here?” “Oh, he’s sentry over Ordnance Stores, as well as over your office.” There was a wall, 10 feet high, intervening between the office and the Stores, so I ordered the post to be placed within the enclosure. When on the third morning I found the man still at the office door, I posted him myself inside the enclosure, but the Ordnance officer, thinking the place was safer if it was kept locked, begged he might be taken away.
Some days later, on visiting the huts forming the Garrison Hospital, I found a sentry over a prisoners’ ward. “Open the door.” “Please, sir, it’s locked.” “Yes, open it.” “I’ve got no key.” “Then call the Sergeant of the guard; I want to see the prisoner.” “Please, sir, there is no prisoner.” I said to the Medical Officer accompanying me, “What folly!” “Oh, there was a prisoner, quite recently.” An indiscreet Lance-Corporal, of the Army Hospital Corps, remarked, “There has been no prisoner for three months.”
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A perusal of the Crime statistics induced a visit to Harwich, where one company of Garrison Artillery had more prisoners than 700 other Artillerymen, in the Eastern District. Harwich and Landguard were not responsible for this unpleasant fact, but Shotley Magazine Guard, a detachment of some 25 Gunners stationed on a promontory between the Stour and Orwell rivers. The Guard duties were not heavy, but there was absolutely no means of recreation for the men. The nearest farm was 2000 yards distant, but a public-house stood just outside the fort.
I imagine that the prestige of the Master-General of the Ordnance, typified by the Duke of Wellington, had not then died out, for I was warned by my Staff not to interfere with a Magazine. I disregarded their friendly counsels; removed all the celibate Artillery men, leaving a Master Gunner and seven married men, one of whom had to sleep dressed in the guard-room as a watchman, and to touch a tell-tale clock thrice every night, at varying hours, as ordered by the Warrant officer. This system has answered well to the present time.
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