“No, I haven’t, but I have known a drummer boy to become a sergeant. He was not much bigger than you. He could do everything you can think of. There was one thing, though, that was very hard for him to do, and that was to beat ‘Retreat.’ ‘Forward March’ he knew how to drum; he never forgot that, and sometimes he beat that instead of ‘Retreat,’ and the captain got angry. Usually he wasn’t punished either, because he had once saved the captain’s life with a snowball.”
“With a snowball?” said Viggo.
“Yes, I said snowball; he did not use greater means. We were rushing up a hill with the enemy in front of us. It was in Winter. The captain and the drummer boy led the march; but as soon as they came to the top of the hill there stood the enemy in line. ‘Aim!’ commanded the enemy’s officer, and all the guns pointed right at the captain. Quick as lightning the drummer boy grabbed a handful of snow and made a snowball, and, just as the officer opened his mouth to say ‘Fire!’ the drummer boy threw the snowball straight into the open mouth. He stood there, mouth wide open. Well, then the rest of us arrived and we had a hot fight.”
“Then was he made a sergeant?” asked Viggo.
“Yes, when the Prince had heard of it. He was given the rank of a sergeant, and something better even than that. The Prince called him ‘my son.’”
“It was too bad that they didn’t make him a general,” said Viggo. He added half aloud: “Do you think I might become a general, Hans?”
“Well, well, listen to the spring chicken!” said Hans. “So it is general you want to be? Never mind, don’t blush for that; it wasn’t a bad question. But it is very difficult, for you must learn much, oh, very much.”
“Mathematics, you mean?” said Viggo. “I have learned some of that already, and languages too.”
“Yes, that is well enough, but you must learn much more; you must learn to drill so that you don’t make a mistake in a single movement.”
“Then do you think I might become a general?” continued Viggo.