All for a Scrap of Paper Part 26

One night it was very cold, although it had been very warm during the day. They had all been drilling hard, and were dog-tired. One of the men was evidently very seedy. He complained of a sick headache, and he was s.h.i.+vering with the cold.

"Bit off colour, mite?" said one.

"Jist orful, Bill. Gawd, I wish I was 'ome. The graand is so ---- hard too, and I'm as sore as if some one had been a-beatin' me with a big stick."

"Ere mitey, you just 'ave my blanket. I don't want it. And let me mike my old overcoat into a bit of a pillow for yer."

"You are bloomin' kind, Bill, and I don't like----"

"Oh, stow it, it's nothink. Anything you'd like, mitey?"

"No, that is----"

"Come, out with it you ----. Wot is it? Shall I fetch the doctor?"

"Ee ain't no use! besides, you'd get into a ---- row if you went to him now. When I wos 'ome and like this my mother used to go to a chemist and git me some sweet spirits of nitre, and it always made me as right as a trivet. But there ain't no such ---- luck 'ere."

"Wot yer call it? Sweet spirits o' mitre? Never 'eerd on it afore.

'Ow do you tike it?"

"Oh, you just puts it in 'ot water; but there, I can't 'ave it. Good night, Bill, and thank you for the blanket."

Bill, without a word, tired as he was, left the tent, and half an hour afterwards returned with the medicine.

"Gawd, Bill," said the sick man, "but you ain't a ----"

"Not so much chin music. There, tike it, and go to sleep."

Such little acts of kindness as these were constantly taking place, and they were by no means confined to men who belonged to the better-cla.s.s but were more frequently seen among the roughest and coa.r.s.est.

Bob found out, too, that there was a rough sense of honour among them.

Some of them seemed to revel in filthy language, but if a man did a mean thing, or didn't play the game according to their standard, he was in for a bad time. Indeed, he soon found out that, in a certain sense, the same code of honour which prevailed at Clifton, with exceptions, operated in this newly-formed camp.

Day after day and week after week pa.s.sed, and still Bob knew nothing of what was to happen to him. He had enlisted as a private, but on Captain Pringle's advice had put down his name for a commission. From the first day, however, he had heard nothing more of it. From early morning till late in the day it was nothing but hard, tiring work.

It was all wonderfully strange to him, this intermingling with a mixed humanity, working like a slave for that which he had hitherto hated, and which he still hated. Still, he threw his whole heart into it, and he could not help knowing that he was progressing rapidly. After the first few days his tiredness and soreness pa.s.sed away, and he could go through the most arduous duties without feeling tired. There was something in it all, too, which inspired him. The military precision of everything appealed to him, and the shouts, and laughter of hundreds of voices made life gay in spite of everything. As the days pa.s.sed by, moreover, he could not help seeing that the a.s.sociation with clean-minded, healthy-bodied, educated men, was having a good effect upon the coa.r.s.e-fibred portion of the strange community. They did not indulge so frequently in coa.r.s.e language, neither was their general conduct so objectionable. It seemed as though they had something to live up to.

"Shut up, mate, and don't be a beast," Bob heard one man say to another one day.

"You are mighty squeamish, you son of a swine," was the rejoinder; "wot are you so partic'ler about?"

"'Cos I don't want to tell them 'ere fellers that we're a low lot."

"We're as good as they are, thet's wot we are. We're just all equals 'ere. They are Tommies just as we are. That's wot _I_ ses."

"We may be all equals as soldiers; but we cawn't git away from it, Bill, some of 'em are gentlemen. Thet's wot they are. Some of 'em just make me ashamed of myself sometimes. No, I ain't a puttin' on no side; but I just want to let 'em see that we workin' chaps can behave as well as they can. Thet's all. See?"

Meanwhile, good news came from the front. The Allies had driven the Germans back over the Marne, and were making progress all along the line.

The men cheered wildly as they heard the news.

"They'll git licked afore we get a smack at 'em," some ventured.

But in the main they knew better. They realised that the war was going to be long and b.l.o.o.d.y, and although going to the front possibly meant their death, there were very few who did not want to get there.

No one felt this more than Bob. He had now been three weeks in camp, and it seemed to him possible that it might be months before his time for action came. Of Captain Pringle he had heard nothing since he enlisted, and he was afraid he had gone to the front without having been able to do anything for him.

One evening he was sitting outside his tent, smoking his pipe. It had been a hot, sweltering day, although the summer was now over. Around him, as far as he could see, was a sea of bell-shaped tents.

Everywhere was a great seething ma.s.s of men in khaki. Horses of all sorts abounded. Many of the men were bandying jokes one with another, others were at the canteen, while many more had gone to the nearest town. Bob himself had earlier in the day gone to the town to indulge in a "good square well-cooked meal," as he called it; and now, early as it was, although he little relished the thought of sleeping so-many in a tent, he was just thinking of going to bed. Near him a number of soldiers were singing gaily.

"Nancarrow!"

Bob turned his head, and saw a fellow soldier beckoning.

"What's up?"

"You are wanted."

"Where?"

"Officers' quarters."

As Bob obeyed the summons, he caught the song in which a great ma.s.s of men had joined.

"It's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go; It's a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know.

Good-bye, Piccadilly; Farewell, Leicester Square.

It's a long, long way to Tipperary.

But my heart's right there."

As he reached the officers' quarters, he was surprised to see Captain Pringle.

"I've news for you, Nancarrow."

"Thank you, sir."

"You've got your commission."

"That's great. Thank you. I'm sure I owe it to you."

"Nonsense. Come this way. You've to go to Colonel Sapsworth. But that's not all. You start for the front almost immediately."

For a moment Bob could not speak. It was not fear that overwhelmed him, it was something more terrible. Every nerve in his body quivered, while his heart beat wildly.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, Captain. By Jove, that's great!"

And that was all Bob could say.