Combed Out | Page 4

fire. They were so sunburnt that to
touch them was acutely painful. Our limbs moved sluggishly and
reluctantly. The Sergeant looked at his watch. "Time yet, Sergeant?"
asked someone in a drawling, agonized voice.
"There's another twenty minutes ter go--we'll risk it though, and knock
orf in ten. Only get along to yer 'uts as soon as I dismiss yer an' don't
show yerselves nowhere, else yer'll get me into trouble."
Our weary spirits were revived a little. The prospect of a quick
termination to our discomforts caused the last ten minutes to pass with
comparative rapidity. We were dismissed for the day, and straggled
back to our huts, too broken in mind and body to think or do anything
except lie down and rest.
So this was our first day in the army. How many more days of drill
would we have to endure? Perhaps we would be sent to the front soon.
That would be a change at least. I tried to visualize the future. What

would actual warfare be like? I thought of bayonet charges and men
falling under machine-gun fire. Then I recollected having heard
somewhere that a soldier can take an active part in a modern war
without ever seeing the enemy, and I imagined a low range of distant
hills dotted with little puffs of smoke. I could not, however, realize the
precise mental state of a soldier under fire, so that none of these
pictures seemed convincing to me. I wondered whether I would be
anxious, nervous, terrified, excited, exuberant, or calm and indifferent
in the presence of danger, but I could not arrive at any conclusion. Even
the term "under fire" conveyed no precise meaning. Nothing I had read
about the present war was of any help to me. The reports of the
war-correspondents in the daily press were so full of obviously false
psychology, that I regarded them as obstacles in the way of a proper
understanding of modern warfare, and no doubt that was partly the
object with which they were written or rather inspired. I knew that
within a few weeks I might be dead or terribly mutilated, but as I could
not visualize the precise circumstances the prospect only filled me with
an indefinite uneasiness. The possibilities before me were too vague
and too numerous, and I did not possess sufficient knowledge to
estimate them accurately. I did not even know whether I would remain
in a fighting unit. I hoped we would be sent to the front soon, for the
one thing I feared was a prolongation of the dreary round of infantry
drill. Moreover I was intensely curious as to the real nature of war and
eager to experience new sensations and conditions. Nevertheless, from
time to time I felt a wild desire to run away and enjoy a few days of
freedom, but the realization of the futility of such a wish always
brought on a fit of such black despair that I tried not to think about it at
all.

II
THE FATIGUE PARTY
There was much gaiety amongst us. There was also much gloom and
bitterness. We would often quarrel violently over nothing and enrage
over little inconveniences--intense irritability is the commonest result

of army life. Our morale was dominated by the small, immediate event.
Bad weather and long working hours would provoke outbursts of
grumbling and fretful resentment. A sunny morning and the prospect of
a holiday would make us exuberantly cheerful and some of us would
even assert that the army was not so bad after all. A slight deficiency in
the rations would arouse fierce indignation and mutinous utterances.
An extra pot of jam in the tent ration-bag would fill us with the spirit of
loyalty and patriotism. If an officer used harsh, brutal words we would
loathe him and meditate vengeance. But if an officer spoke to us kindly
or did us some slight service we would call him a "brick," a "toff," or a
"sport," and overflow with sentimental devotion. It was not difficult to
please us, indeed it was often touching to observe for how small a thing
the men would show the most ardent gratitude and work
enthusiastically so as to show their appreciation. If those with high
authority in the army had only realized the tremendous influence just a
little kindness and consideration had on the morale of the troops, much
hatred and misunderstanding, much useless suffering and humiliation
would have been avoided.
Not that the officer was any worse than the common soldier. In fact, he
was usually better. Most officers, belonging as they did to the
comparatively wealthy and leisured classes, had been able to cultivate
luxuries like good-nature, benevolence and politeness all their lives.
But mere goodness was not sufficient.
Moreover, the very