Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/603

We are a Rifle Brigade. Of course we haven't any real rifles nor are we really a brigade. But on account of our designation we do things differently from the common infantryman, and most of us do them differently from any kind of soldier.

For the purposes of our business of a Rifle Brigade we are possessed of a number of obsolete weapons, dating from the year 1870, nicknamed rifles. They are cold uncompanionable things, but, out of consideration for the feelings of the enthusiast who acquired them, we quite often take them about with us. Luckily there are more men than weapons and the laggards are compelled to parade without arms. Until the occasion to which I am about to refer I have always succeeded in being a laggard.

It happened just before Whitsuntide. The parade was unusually small and I was compelled to appear complete with rille. I admit that the thing made me nervous, but I dragged it forth with an assumed air of nonchalance and stood at ease with éclat. The Serjeant-major who was in charge of the parade suddenly barked at us, and from sheer fright I arrived at a position something resembling what I believe is technically known as "the order." In the pause that ensued I ascertained that my short ribs had only been contused and not broken by the end of the metal tubing.

"Shoulder-arms!" yelled the Serjeant-major. I really believe that I should have done that too if the metal projection called the foresight had not entangled itself in my coat. This made me late on the movement, and the Serjeant-major scowled at me. I was cross about it too because the piece of my coat which was hanging on the weapon was a material part of the garment. The movement not having been entirely satisfactory, we were directed to "order arms" again. I endeavoured to make up for my previous laxity by extra smartness, but misjudged the position of the little toe of my right foot. Its contact with the butt end of the rifle caused me to exclaim and I was severely reprimanded for talking in the ranks.

I confess that "Present arms!" had me beaten, but I did my best. I wriggled the weapon into what, as far as I could judge from a side-glance at my neighbour, was a correct position. But when the Sergeant-major's eye lit on me I had a feeling that all was not well. He strode silently but relentlessly in my direction. A person of less courage would have dropped the treacherous instrument and fled, but not I. Recalling the fact that I was an Englishman and a soldier, I tenaciously stood my ground. The Sergeant-major paused for a moment in front of me, and then he spake. I will say this for our Sergeant-major―he is thorough. I never remember a finer example of his thoroughness. When at length his breath failed him he sighed regretfully, and, with an air patient resignation, adjusted my hands into a strained position which seemed to cause him satisfaction.

I "sloped" the thing on the proper shoulder and got hold of the butt with the proper hand. One would have thought that this would have pleased even a sergeant major, but he was quite annoyed because I hadn't got the trigger business facing the way he liked.

"'Ow many drills 'ave you done, Sir?" Being no arithmetician I couldn't help him, and he looked suggestively at the recruit squad drilling in the corner. Then he bethought him that one fine day the hat would go round to provide a suitable gratuity for kindly