IN A " SMOKER."

Dominion, Volume 6, Issue 1687, 1 March 1913, Page 6

IN A " SMOKER."

WITH "SERGEANT WHATIS. NAME."

"WHO CAN HANDLE MEN A BIT."

(BY "REAIt-BANKER.")

No, it was not on "a piece of red-hot sand, with a palm on either hand," that I met tlio sergeant, but in a hot and dusty "smoker" attached to one of those up-country local trains, whoso rate of speed appears to have been designed by a considerate Railway Department for the special -purpose of providing all the advantages of a regular rest cure at ordinary passenger tariff. I watched him enter the carriage—a fine soldierly figure, in his closely-fitting khaki rig—plainly no advocate, this, of fasting cures, but a man accustomed, without doubt, to "live by tlio way." I have a constitutional weakness for the "buttons," and here were not only buttons but a genial air of responsiveness that was absolutely irresistible. Promptly I manoeuvre to place myself "en potcnce" on his flank, but on the opposite side of tho carriage—a highly original and strategical advance on my part under cover of such topics as the state of tho weather and the furious rate of speed at which our train was travelling and my flank attack promptly develops into a direct frontal one, and straightaway we are in the thick of it. Service? (Of course I had seen it written all over him.) Oh, yes—Tirah, Burma, South Africa, Colenso (a veritable triarius indeed). Caineronians (and primi manipuli, too.) . The whole Natal campaign is fought over again, but not a word against Bailor —'"A splendid soldier aiul a gentleman!" Marvellous how' his veterans believe in Buller, from Uluudi to Pretoria.

"And hoWi do you get on with your area work—any bothers in the matter of drills and parades?" "Not tho slightest. Haven't summonsed a man yet: The men want somo humouring and management, of course; you can't treat them as you would British regulars, but they aro all Tight when they understand you. ("Yes, and when they an; handled by men liko you who understand them," 'I say to myself.) A little t'act and consideration are required, but I am getting really good work irom them." We here stop at a station alongside an "up" train. "Excuse mo a moment, I want to speak to one of my officers in tho other train," and the Sergeant-Major gets out. There is a subtlo suggestion of paternal solicitude in the tone at tho phrase, "one of my officers" that conveys a world of meaning. On his return our "soldier" talk nets on to broader lines and I find him no ordinary Sergeant Mtilvaney, but u serious student of the higher branches of liis art, and the end of the-shortest (to me) two hours' journey on record cries "halt" to a most interesting discussion on German and English system's of attack, company control, shock tactics, and enveloping movements versus penetration, etc., and we part with mutual expressions of regret. That night, in my evening paper, I read of complaints of extravagant expenditure in defence administration and of disorderly parades and absence from duty, but not" I notice in Sergeant Whatisnanie's area, and I naturally ask myself why nro there not more,men of his stamp—the especially selected product of years of training and experience in the British army. This is the stuff that is required; not tho mushroom product of a few weeks' training in an instruction camp. . The authorities, in establishing a sys-. tern of compulsory service, are dealing with a most difficult problem. Tho young New Zealander is not readily amenable to or otherwise. He is, by virtue of his prosperous and easy circumstances, self-indulgent and most impatient of control—in fact, an unlickod cubi' but his natural intelligence and powers 'of initiativo nro superior to anything that older countries can produce—he is certainly no fool. Frill and feather have no effect on him and his democratic instinct bucks at the slightest hint of class distinction or privileges. He has no time for them or for any. military system which encour-' ages them. But piit him under the control of tried and "proved men, to whom ho can look up _ and respect, "who can handle men <i bit," and as my railway friend said: "He's all right." Tho tiuestion is: "Aro wo not putting too little money on the Sergeant Whatisname's nnd far too much on the frill and feather?"-