R.F.C. Officer. "WELL, I TRY TO BE BRAVE ABOUT IT, AUNT. BUT THIS ZEPPELIN SHORTAGE HITS ME VERY HARD."
THE MOST IMPORTANT THING.
I.
Lewis Gun Officer.—... So let me repeat and impress upon you, men, that the rifle is an effete weapon—extinct as the—what-you-call-it bird. It played its part, a good part, in the South African War, but we who observed what the machine gun did then and foretold its immense development [he was just nine years old at that time] knew that the rifle would soon be in the museums along with the bows and arrows. Pay attention, Private Jones. The Lewis Gun, the weapon of opportunity, is a platoon in itself. I don't know what the Government want to worry about men for. The Germans don't fill up their front trenches with a lot of soldiers to be killed with shrapnel. No, a machine gun every twenty or thirty yards is quite enough to hold any defensive line. So just bear these things in mind; and don't forget what we have learnt to-day. All right. Nine o'clock to-morrow.
II.
Physical Training Sergeant-Instructor.—Forward be—end. Ster—retch. Be—end. Ster—retch. Feet together—place. 'Ands—down. Stan—zee. Squad —'shun. Fingers straight, that man. Wotjer say? WOT? I can't 'elp wot the drill-sergeant tells yer. When I sez "'Shun" I want fingers straight down. On the command "Sitting—down" every man sits down tailor-fashion. Sitting—down. [This is the position in which Swedish drill squads hear words of wisdom.] Listen. An' look at me over there—not that I likes the look of yer—'as to put up with that, but when I torks I wants attention. Let me arsk yer this. Wot sort of men do we want in France? Why, fit men. 'Ow do yer get fit? I makes yer fit. 'Ow? Why, physical. Wot's the good of a bloke in the trenches if he's sick parade every bloomin' day? Arsk any of the serjents who is it wakes blokes up and makes 'em live men? Me. In about six weeks you will be able to run ten miles before brekfast in full marchin' order, carryin' 120 rounds, gettin' over six-foot walls and jumpin' eight-foot ditches. Don't look frightened, Private West. I 'ave seen weedier and uglier-lookin' blokes than you do it when I've done with 'em. One more thing....
III.
Musketry Officer.—... Therefore you see an infantry soldier has one weapon and one only—the rifle. You fellows will be out at the Front pretty soon. Now, if a man gets up the line, no matter how strong he is, how well drilled, if he can't use his rifle he might just as well not be there for all the good he is to his country. All the money that's been spent on his trainin', food, clothin'—absolutely wasted; might as well have been thrown into the sea. Why, the other day a party of our fellows were heavin' bombs at about twenty Bosches—threw hundreds; couldn't reach 'em. And one sniper went out and killed the lot in two minutes. And so ...
IV.