"Make them charge mountains with fixed bayonets for a month."
"But there's no mountains nearer than fifteen miles, sir."
"March them out to them—good for them!"
"They'll probably kick, sir."
"Then we'll have them shot." And so the Mixed Division tramped, manœuvred, and charged. It lowered each man's weight, and made him wring his shirt after the day's darg was done. The older soldiers cursed [pg 138] and growled; the younger men whined and often fell out.
"Too stiff, eh?" inquired "Sunny Jim" one day of a perspiring Tommy.
"A wee bit, sir," said the man with a wan smile.
"It's example these men want. I'll show them. Here, you," he shouted to a young subaltern in charge of an infant company.
"Yes, sir."
"Hand over your company to me."