Our Battalion Being Some Slight Impressions of His Majesty's Auxiliary Forces, in Camp and Elsewhere
It would be too dreadful if he started dodging us. I wish officers would

    not

   say they've received no instructions about all sorts of things. It may be perfectly true, but you can't get them to see that they ought to say anything but that. Had rather a fright when I heard the G.O.C. was paying a surprise visit to the outposts, but something kept him off us. The Sergeant Major said we should get an awful wigging over the camp, as it wasn't half cleaned up, so had to get the Colonel to keep lunch going as long as possible. Men turned out for inspection better than I expected, but one wretched youth in No. 1 Company got his bayonet jammed. Thought we were in for it, but luckily his struggles were so pathetic that the Chief had to laugh, and forgot to make any nasty remarks until he'd almost finished the inspection. We might train a humorously-minded boy to do something of the sort every time.

    Friday.

   —Usual wind-up field day. Did "pooja" to everything I could think of, in the hope of being placed in reserve, but it didn't come off. Had a positively dreadful time. Our portion of the firing line seemed to fascinate the G.O.C., nothing would make him go away. Gave us frightful "dirt" because the men insisted on standing up to see the Commander-in-Chief and Staff go by, when they were supposed to be under cover and lying down. One of the Staff got off rather smart thing—said the Volunteers combined the minimum of expense with the maximum of inefficiency.

    Saturday.

   —Broke camp. I don't know which is worse, getting to camp or coming away from it. It doesn't matter what arrangements you make, it always results in hopeless confusion, and everybody goes about cursing somebody or something. I shall keep out of the way as much as possible, and I shall go on leave directly we get back.

    Saturday.

   —Utter rot limiting a fellow's baggage; I've simply chucked it. If there was any need, I could live in one shirt just as well as the next man, but I expect the Sergeant Major will think it his duty to point out that two kit bags, a hold-all, plus the regulation tin box, is almost up to field officer form, but I can't do it with less. I'm sure the amount of stuff the sergeants' mess take with 'em is simply appalling.

   Trust our mess president will provide for our carnal appetites by the way, but shall take the precaution of 
 Prev. P 18/30 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact