Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/516
LIBERTY: THE FALSE AND THE TRUE.
Knowing Britannia ruled the waves,
And while her watch-dogs held the deep
Never, oh no, should we be slaves;
Others in less enlightened lands
Had lords to drill and drive and bleed 'em,
But we, thank God, could fold our hands
All in the blessed name of Freedom.
We claimed, as only Britons may,
The right to work, if we preferred,
The right, if so we chose, to play;
Under that flag we danced and dined,
Lifted the lusty patriot chorus,
And paid a few (that way inclined)
To go and do our fighting for us.
We still kept up our games and strikes,
True to the law we loved so well—
Let everyone do what he likes;
This was a free land; none should tramp
In conscript lines, dragooned and herded,
Though some might take a call to camp
If the request was nicely worded.
And in an hour how dark and late—
That never save by sacrifice
Men come to Liberty's estate;
No birthright helps us here at need;
Each must be taught by stern probation
That they alone are free indeed
Who bind themselves to serve the nation.
O. S.
OUR WHITSUN CAMP.
Our Commandant is very pleased about it. Nearly all the photographs came out very well and the Censor has passed some of them for publication. I think that the snapshot of the Adjutant misjudging the width of a trench was rightly censored. It is a pity that some of the villagers, including three boys and two of the oldest inhabitants, got into the group of officers entitled "not too old to fight."
A battalion of regulars, who, also taking advantage of the fine weather and holiday season, had pitched their tents in our neighbourhood, took a great interest in us, especially in our red armlets. It cost us a long time to convince them that we weren't a flock of budding staff officers out for a picnic or a battalion in quarantine. It wasn't until they saw us manœuvring that they understood that the armlet scheme was to prevent the possibility of the Germans missing any of us if we went into action.
Our ceremonial parade was marred by the conduct of the leading Platoon Commander who was guilty of three breaches of military etiquette on the march past, none of which was excusable even if a mosquito did bite him under the left eye at a critical moment. He said something that was not in the Infantry Training Book, threw the battalion out of step and finished his salute before passing the post.
The camp pastimes consisted largely of trench digging and tactical manœuvres. The ungrudging manner in which one of our Platoon Commanders in the course of swinging a pick sacrificed his near fourth rib to the common good was voted a sporting effort; but Holroyd's double event with his neighbour's shoulder and his own shin in one swing was considered clumsy. Considerable ingenuity was shown in disguising the trenches. In spite of our Commandant's disparaging remarks I still think that my idea of laying out our parapet as a potato bed was most practical, and that it was churlish and unsporting of the original potato-planter to complain to our Commandant. A man is not much of a man who cannot give up a few unripe potatoes for his country.
My first idea was mustard and cress, and after consultation with a local gardener I came to the conclusion that the best plan would be to start the seeds growing on flannel. As I hadn't got enough flannel I had to use Higgs's blanket and rug. I watered the blanket and rug well before spreading the seeds, and I am sure that the scheme would have been a success but for Higgs's lack of co-operation. I was just going to explain the matter to him when "lights out' sounded and he went hurriedly to bed with my seeds. Of course he discovered his mistake at once, but the damage was done, and we were both reprimanded by the Section Commander for creating a disturbance in billets. I think that I shall try for strawberries if we entrench in the summer. Bailey's river scene, with bulrushes and waterlilies, would have been all right if his trench had not been on the rise of a hill and if the scene had harmonised with the next trench, which was adorned with gorse and tulips.
A grand finale to the camp was provided by an exhibition battle between the infantry and the motor squadron. Our operations—I am infantry—were considerably hampered by the insubordination of the Commandant's horse. First, he refused to bring back his hay cart in time and was late for parade; secondly, he was insulting to the Adjutant, who had waited for him and wanted to exhibit his knowledge of the haute école, and thirdly he objected to the Commandant unfolding the plan of campaign to our officers from his back. While the Commandant was endeavouring to explain that the motor squadron was going to make a surprise attack on us, the attack happened and the surprise was complete. Considering the number of conflicting orders which were given we did fairly well, and most of us found some kind of cover. I concealed myself in a furze bush which I hadn't noticed until I got there. Bailey found cover for one leg in a rabbit hole, and this helped him to lie down very quickly; he kept lying down until the ambulance came up. Having fired five rounds rapid into our officers and one another we had leisure to look for the motor squadron. We felt that they had taken a mean advantage in attacking when our Commandant's horse was entertaining us by giving an exhibition cake-walk, so we decided to charge them. This figure was a great success, as they imagined that we had practically annihilated ourselves. They didn't know that our infantry is as resilient as the Russian army. We could have captured them all if we hadn't wanted the spectators to see them retreat along the road. We had a crowd of spectators whom our ex-Adjutant had invited to motor down to see us perform. He had posted them on a hill commanding a view of the whole operations, and doubtless they would have been much impressed if he hadn't told them beforehand everything that was going to happen. Unfortunately, owing to the conduct of the Commandant's horse nothing happened that he had told his friends about, and his reputation as a military prophet is ruined.
We didn't go back to camp after wiping out the motor squadron, but marched straight on the railway station. The motor squadron tried to attack us again on the way, but we weren't going to fight dead men, and there were too many regulars about, so we just told them not to be silly and took no further notice of them.