Kitcheners Mob | Page 4

on the part of the Boer warrior. It was one of innumerable differences
of opinion which I witnessed during the months that followed. And
most of them were settled in the same decisive way.
Although mine was a London regiment, we had men in the ranks from
all parts of the United Kingdom. There were North-Countrymen, a few
Welsh, Scotch, and Irish, men from the Midlands and from the south of
England. But for the most part we were Cockneys, born within the
sound of Bow Bells. I had planned to follow the friendly advice of the
recruiting sergeant. "Talk like 'em," he had said. Therefore, I struggled
bravely with the peculiarities of the Cockney twang, recklessly dropped
aitches when I should have kept them, and prefixed them
indiscriminately before every convenient aspirate. But all my efforts
were useless. The imposition was apparent to my fellow Tommies
immediately. I had only to begin speaking, within the hearing of a
genuine Cockney, when he would say, "'Ello! w'ere do you come from?
The Stites?" or, "I'll bet a tanner you're a Yank!" I decided to make a

confession, and I have been glad, ever since, that I did. The boys gave
me a warm and hearty welcome when they learned that I was a
sure-enough American. They called me "Jamie the Yank." I was a piece
of tangible evidence of the bond of sympathy existing between the two
great English-speaking nations. I told them of the many Americans of
German extraction, whose sympathies were honestly and sincerely on
the other side. But they would not have it so. I was the personal
representative of the American people. My presence in the British army
was proof positive of this.
Being an American, it was very hard, at first, to understand the class
distinctions of British army life. And having understood them, it was
more difficult yet to endure them. I learned that a ranker, or private
soldier, is a socially inferior being from the officer's point of view. The
officer class and the ranker class are east and west, and never the twain
shall meet, except in their respective places upon the parade-ground.
This does not hold good, to the same extent, upon active service.
Hardships and dangers, shared in common, tend to break down
artificial barriers. But even then, although there was good-will and
friendliness between officers and men, I saw nothing of genuine
comradeship. This seemed to me a great pity. It was a loss for the
officers fully as much as it was for the men.
I had to accept, for convenience sake, the fact of my social inferiority.
Centuries of army tradition demanded it; and I discovered that it is
absolutely futile for one inconsequential American to rebel against the
unshakable fortress of English tradition. Nearly all of my comrades
were used to clear-cut class distinctions in civilian life. It made little
difference to them that some of our officers were recruits as raw as
were we ourselves. They had money enough and education enough and
influence enough to secure the king's commission; and that fact was
proof enough for Tommy that they were gentlemen, and, therefore, too
good for the likes of him to be associating with.
"Look 'ere! Ain't a gentleman a gentleman? I'm arskin' you, ain't 'e?"
I saw the futility of discussing this question with Tommy. And later, I
realized how important for British army discipline such distinctions are.

So great is the force of prevailing opinion that I sometimes found
myself accepting Tommy's point of view. I wondered if I was, for some
eugenic reason, the inferior of these men whom I had to "Sir" and
salute whenever I dared speak. Such lapses were only occasional. But I
understood, for the first time, how important a part circumstance and
environment play in shaping one's mental attitude. How I longed, at
times, to chat with colonels and to joke with captains on terms of
equality! Whenever I confided these aspirations to Tommy he gazed at
me in awe.
"Don't be a bloomin' ijut! They could jolly well 'ang you fer that!"
CHAPTER III
THE MOB IN TRAINING
The Nth Service Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, on the march was a sight
not easily to be forgotten. To the inhabitants of Colchester, Folkestone,
Shorncliffe, Aldershot, and other towns and villages throughout the
south of England, we were well known. We displayed ourselves with
what must have seemed to them a shameless disregard for appearances.
Our approach was announced by a discordant tumult of fifes and drums,
for our band, of which later, we became justly proud, was a newly
fledged and still imperfect organization. Windows were flung up and
doors thrown open along our line of march; but alas, we were greeted
with no welcome glances of kindly approval,