‘My sister, I may tell you, is a jolly good-looking gel—so is Ted good-looking—and when she asked my benediction, I wired: “God bless you, Red Villa and all.”
‘Another point. Don’t start attempting to tip adjutants and colonels. You may be very rich, and imagine that if you send me a gold cigar-case studded with diamonds I shall pass you out for your commission. Personally, I should have no hesitation in court-martialling a man who did so. I recall a youth named Solomon M’Isaaks, who blew in from the Argentine. Out there he had to deal with grafters and twisters. To get business he had to give palm-oil by the gallon. He was not at all a desirable fellow. He wanted short cuts to success, and didn’t like the daily grind of orderly officer, drill, marching, &c. Somehow or other he suddenly conceived the idea that by patronage he might buy a colonelcy or a brigadier’s job. So he started to throw fivers about like hot peas, and ended up by sending a cheque to a brigade major. That finished him. He was booted out. If there is one thing we ought to be proud of, it is that the British Army has not the graft of South America. Merit counts, although I’m just afraid a sneak soft-soaps his way occasionally by acting the part of Uriah Heap.
‘I may also tell you there are hundreds of little things you have got to know. For example, when the commanding officer enters the anteroom every officer must promptly rise to attention—as a mark of respect. Colonels do not insist on this from mere vanity. It is really discipline, and as all of you may be colonels some day, you will realise the benefit of the system. Another custom is, when you meet the C.O., the major, or the adjutant in the morning, salute smartly, and say, “Good-morning, sir.” If the C.O. had occasion the day before to reprimand you for some error, make a point of saying a cheerful “Good-morning,” and he will then know that you are no petty-minded individual.
‘Remember your table manners. For dinner assemble in the anteroom five minutes before the time. Allow the C.O. and seniors to lead the way to the table, and take your seats quietly. Don’t eat with your knife; and when you finish a course, put your knife and fork together. When a mess servant sees a new officer leave his knife and fork sprawling all over the plate he says nothing—but he thinks a lot. He really believes the delinquent is not a gentleman. And it is most important that officers should convey to all ranks that they have a knowledge of the courtesies which are the hall-mark of all well-trained people.
‘Of course, you may say, “What has all this got to do with winning the war?” My reply is, it is the whole scheme. For example, the German officer is quite a brave man, but he is not a gentleman. His manners to the German soldiers are the manners of a brute. He never uses “please,” seldom “thanks;” while Faith, Hope, and Charity are absent from his curriculum. His whole life is based on brute-power, the penal code, and—orders. What a difference from the British Army! Our discipline is the firmest, yet the kindest, in the world, simply because cadets and all officers have had their noses shoved on the grindstone by sergeant-majors, lecturers, and seniors, who insist that if you fail in your duty, and neglect to cultivate the love and the friendship of your men, then you are absolutely no use to the British Army.
‘Again, when you want to leave the mess table before the mess president does so, you must go and ask his permission. On a guest-night you must not leave the room, except on a point of duty; and you should remain with the guests of the evening till they go.
‘Here are a few more hints in brief, which I call the Subaltern’s Ten Commandments.
‘(1) Thou shalt drink soda-water.
‘(2) Thou shalt not wear pink socks or yellow shoes, or carry Mills grenades on leave with the pin half-out.