Her Aunt. "Really? I didn't know the Germans had any native troops fighting for them."
THE WATCH DOGS.
XXXVII.
My dear Charles,—This letter is written in England, but the reason for my presence here is not to be dismissed in a breath or mentioned first anyhow. It is to be led up to gradually, the music being stopped and the audience being asked to refrain from shuffling their feet about and coughing when we come to the critical moment.
Reviewing my military career, I do not look upon myself as great; I look upon myself rather as very great. Even at the beginning of it I had a distinct way with me. I would say to fifty men, "Form fours," and sure enough they would form them. I would then rearrange my ideas and say, "Form two-deep," and there, in the twinkling of an eye, was your two deep. This is not common, I think; it was just something in me, some peculiar gift for which I was not responsible. So pleasing was the effect that I would sometimes go on repeating the process for ten minutes or so, and every time it fell out exactly as I said it would, no one ever daring to suggest that the sooner I settled down to a definite policy, whether in fours or twos, the sooner the War would end.
For six months I continued performing this difficult and dangerous work, only once making the mistake of ordering my men to take a left turn and myself taking a right one. Fortunately this happened in a local town of tortuous by-ways, and so it fell out that I and my platoon only met again later in the day; and a most touching meeting it was. Discussing the matter afterwards with my C.O., I inclined to the view that it was an accident which I, for my part, was quite ready to forgive and forget. My C.O. was, however, out of sorts at the moment; in fact he let his tongue run away with him. He even proposed to put me on the Barrack Square for a month, a suggestion which caused my Adjutant (who was interfering as usual) to smile quite unpleasantly. I just looked them straight in the face and said nothing. This, I think, was little short of masterly on my part, since I knew all the time, and knew that they know, that there was in fact no Barrack Square thereabouts to put me on.
After this my men did so extraordinarily well that I became a marked man. I was, in fact, invited to step over to France and to give some practical demonstrations in the art of making war. To pack a few articles into a bag and to parade my men was with me the work of a moment. Before starting it was, however, proper to address a pre-battle speech to them. Silence was enjoined and I spoke, spoke simply and honestly as a great soldier should. "Form fours," said I, and paused dramatically. "Form two-deep," I continued, and my meaning was understood. "Form fours," I concluded ... and we were ready for the worst.
So we moved away for the Field. We did this, I remember, at 5 A.M. Not a moment was to be lost. Our train started at noon and we had three miles to march to the station. Running it pretty close, wasn't it?
Never shall I forget the anxious faces which greeted our arrival at the French port. "Nip up to the trenches," said O.C. megaphone, "and save the situation if you can." Up to the trenches we nipped, covering the distance of sixty miles in less than three weeks. There was no doubt about our willingness and ability to do as we were told; our only difficulty was to discover in the dark where the situation was. Never shall I forget the tense strain that first night, my men standing to arms through the long hours, with their rifles pointing into the darkness beyond. But not a shot was fired, and when dawn broke all was well. True, the first light revealed the fact that I had got us all with our backs to the enemy, so that if there had been a battle it would have been between ourselves and Mr. Jones's platoon. But you can't have everything; and sense of direction never was my strong point. Never shall I forget our first breakfast in the trenches. It consisted of bacon and eggs, marmalade and tea. How strange and novel an experience it was to be at war!