“To tell the truth,” he said, at length, “I confess, I don't quite know. I wish I did, doc, on my soul. One thing I do know, the men are no better here in their morals than they were at home.”
“Better? They are worse, by Jove!” exclaimed the M. O. “Look at the daily crime-sheet! Look at that daily orderly room parade. It's something fierce, and it's getting worse.”
“The wet canteen?” inquired Barry, who had lost prestige with some in the battalion by reason of the strenuous fight he had made against its introduction since coming to England. Not that the men cared so much for their liquor, but they resented the idea that they were denied privileges enjoyed by other battalions.
“The wet canteen?” echoed the doctor. “No, you know I opposed, as you did, the introduction of the wet canteen, although not upon the same grounds. I regard it as a perfect nuisance in camp. It is the centre of every disorder, it is subversive of discipline; it materially increases my sick parade. But it is not the wet canteen that is chiefly responsible for the growing crime-sheet and orderly room parade. It is those damned—I don't apologise—”
“Please don't. Say it again!” exclaimed Barry fervently.
“Those damned pubs,” continued the M. O., “stuck at every crossroads in this country. They're the cause of ninety per cent. of the drunkenness in our army, and more than that, I want to give you another bit of information that came out at our M. O. conference this week, namely that these pubs account for ninety per cent. of our tent hospital cases.”
“Ninety per cent., doctor? That's surely high.”
“I would have said so, but I am giving you the unanimous verdict of the twenty-six medical officers at the conference. Cut out the damned beer—and you know I take my share of it—cut out the beer and ninety per cent. of the venereal disease goes. With me it is not a question of morality but of efficiency.” Here the M. O. sprang from his chair and began to pace the hut. “This is the one thing in this army business that makes me wild. We come over here to fight—these boys are willing to fight—and by gad they will fight! They go out for a walk, they have a few beers together, their inhibitory powers are paralysed, opportunity comes their way, and they wake up a little later diseased. God in heaven! I love this dear old England, and I would die for her if need be, but may God Almighty damn her public houses, and all the infernal and vicious customs which they nourish.”
“Thank you, doctor, go right on,” said Barry. “I was at the tent hospital this week for the first time. Ever since, I have been wanting to say what you have said just now. But what did your M. O. conference do about it?”
“What could we do? The Home Office blocks the way. Well, I've got that off my stomach, and I feel better,” added the M. O., with a slight laugh.