THE MAN WHO WENT HOME

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3052, 13 April 1917, Page 8

THE MAN WHO WENT HOME

FROM AMERICA AND WANTED TO GO TO IRELAND [The following amusing sketch of the unravelling of several yards of AYar Office red tape appeared in the New York "Evening Post." It recounts the experiences of a man who went home to England from America and wanted to cross over to Ireland.] He said: "Go to Ireland, by all means. _ The. situation there is very interesting. You will find much to write about." The Man-who-went-Home stretched out his hand. "Thanks, I will," ho said. 1 "By the way," remarked the other in parting, "you'll have to get a permit. That's not difficult. The reason is that the British Conscription Act doesn't apply to Ireland, and these permits are for tho purposo of preventing slackers from jumping over there to escape service." He reflected for a moment, then lie said: "But you'll have 110 trouble. Go to the military authorities." With that, he turned into the hospital, where he is a and was gone. Private business took the Man-who-went-Home to L— —. Followed a hurried bag packing and a visit to the recruiting office, the board partitions of which were papered with official proclamations. "I want a permit to go to Ireland," said the Man-who-went-Home. The captain in charge looked' up. "AVhyP" he asked with military directness. "AVell, for one thing I want to visit some relatives, and the rest doesn't matter." "Indeed," said the captain. He stretched across his desk for a printed form. A ourious expression came into his eye. He reached for a pen and dipped it into the ink. Then he said, "AVhat's your name?" . The Man-ycho-went-Horae gave it. "How old are you?" Again the answer was given. "AA 7 hat nationality are you?"\ "British-born subject," said the Man-who-went-Home; quite under the belief that it was all necessary for the permit. "Are you registered?" "N-no." ' "Attested?" . i . . "N-n-no."

"Aht" exclaimed the. captain, in a you-will-be-shot-at-sunrise tone, "British subject, military age, not registered, hot attested —rather serious." "But how could I be registered when I only landed from the States ten days ago ?." asked the Man-who-went-Hoine. "That," said the captain, flicking the ash from tho end of his cigarette, "has nothing to do wiili mo. You're a British subject of military age. I can't give you a permit to go to- Ireland, but ,1 can give you a permit to go into the army, and what's more, I will." The Man-who-went-Home stared at him, "Are you joking?" he qsked. "I never joke," .said the captain, with characteristic English frankness. "No, I. never joke," hp repeated in a puzzled way, and then: "By the way, what regiment would vnu nrefer 10 join?" "One word before I answer that,", and the Man-who-went-Home told him of personal business that made his return to Now York imperative. The captain listened attentively. "I'm sorry," he said when the recital was ended. "That is serious, and I believe you. But I can't duck'my duty and I'm'afraid you'll have to go into the army." , "That's final?" ' • "Yes." "Eight you are," said the Man-who-went-Home. "There's.no use wasting any more words. I'll join up-now." "But you'll want some time to 'arrange your affairs." "My kit is ready. I'll join now." The captain pulled on his moustache. "Under circumstances like these," he said, "we give a recruit time to settle things. You can have anything up to eight- days. How much timo do you need?" "Make it an hour in which to notify my sister." The Captain gasped. "But T say," he exclaimed, "whenever I tell a : recruit he can have seven days and ask him how much time he wants he always says 'seven days.' Now you come along and ask for an hour. I never heard of such a thing." "But on hour's all I need." . "Most extraordinary," he said, in the tone of a man who. has been affronted. "But I tell you what—you report back to-morrow morning at ten." "All right. I will." Promptly at ten o'clock the next morning the Man-who-went-Home presented himself again at the recruiting office; The Captain greeted him. "Ready to join up?" he asked. "Yes, sir/', the Man-who-went-Home answered. Unconsciously Captain and rccruit changed their attitude towards each other. The Captain's tone became formal and impersonal; the recruit's replies largely were m monosyllables, with "sir" affixed, which is the custom of the private addressing a superior officer.

"Very well," said -the Captain. "Stay where you are. I'll have yonr papers and your warrants filled out. You'll have to go to N , the headquarters for this military 'district. There you'll be medically examined and assigned to your, regiment. We don't do that here." He called a clerk and ordered the papers made out. This took some time and it was pearly twelve o'clock before the Captain again approached the Man-who-went-Home. This time he held in his hand a blue paper and a brown sealed envelope, on the outside of which was printed "On His Majesty's Service."

The Captain glanced .at the blue slip. Then ho said: "You will go to N-—. You will proceed to the armoury tliere. You will report to the officer in charge of recruiting. You will present to Win this envelope, unopened." He handed the envelope to the \ Man-who-went-Home. Then he glanced at'' his wristwatcli. "It's three minutes to twelve," he said. "The station is ten minutes' walk from here. There's a train at 12:02. You'll catch it. Here is'your Tail way warrant'' and he thrust the hlue paper into the hands of the Man-lvlw-went-Home. ' Willi a curt "Yes. sir," the Jlan-who-Wfint- Home jumped out of- the door. With only Jive minutes m which to catch a train at a station ten minutes distant, there was no time to he lost. Down the stone steps' ran the Man-who-weiit-Homc, out into tlie street. OJld then a sprint in the direction of the station. Once when the Man-who-went Home stopped for a moment to set his "breath he looked at his railroad warrant. It read: . Pass One, (U Soldier. Charge to "War Office. Fatal words those, that caused the last faint hope of the Man-who-went-Hotoc to go si-glimmering. 1 Tim way to the station was along level ground, and then a turn uphill. At tlie bottom of this hill the ■unmistakable whistle of an English locomotive made the Man-who-wenVHome redouble his speed, hut to his dismay the train swept under the bridge and into the station. Still the Man-who-went-Home ran. An order had been given and had to be oheved. St last the stala<vr. nam* *v» cAil).

stood at the platform. Then it whistled. Then the Man-who-went-Home stumbled on to the platform. The train began to move out. It gathered up steam. The Man-who-went-Home drew up abreast of its tail lights. Then he made a final plunge, landed on the runboard, stretched out his hand —and caught the handle of the door of the last compartment. On the platform someone shouted. The Man-who-went-,Home fell into the carriage. As he closed the door he looked out of the window. The station-master stood shaking his fist.

Three-quarters of an hour later the Man-who-went-Home reached N . Walking direct to the armoury, he asked the soldier on duty at tliei entrance for the sergeant-major. Although the Man-who-went-Home had papers to deliver to tho commanding officer, he knew that in the English army no private may approach an officer without an introduction by tho regimental sergeant-major I The soldier on duty at the entrance called another, who led the way to tho Sergeant-Major's office. "Messenger to the Colonel," he said, as he flung open the door. "Right," said the Sergeant-Major. "Show-me your papers'." The Man-who-went-Home the sealed envelope. The soldier looked at it. "Follow me," he ordered, and ,'he led the way t-o the Colonel's office.

' "Messenger i'rom Lr ," "he said, when a voice from inside said "Come

The Man-who-went-Home presented' his papers. The Colonel read them, frowned, turned them over, glared at the Man-who-went-Home, re-read tliem, and frowned again. "Why are you here?" he thundered at last.

"Sent by Captain S , sir." "Well, you oughtn't Jq have come. 'He oughtn't to have sent you. You oughtn't to be here. I wish you weren't here. I wish you wouldn't bother me. Don't you know I'm a very busy man?" The Man-who-went-Home made no loply. "Well, I am a busy man," continued the Colonel. "And now you come and annoy me. Don't you know I've got a war on my hands ? A war on my hands, that's what. And now you come and break in on me and interrupt me when you oughtn't to .be here at-all. Do you understand that? You oughtn't to be here at all. You. oughtn't to be in the army. Captain &— — had no right to put you iu the army. In fact, you can't bo in the army. You see, you're not registered." The Colonel said a lot more. Gradu-. ally it dawned upon the Man-who-went-Home that every. man, woman, and child in England is registered. By tho .Colonel's reasoning, if you were not registered you were not in England, and if.you wore not in England vou couldn't be in the army 1

"You'll have to go back. You'll "havo to return to Captain S . Wait, I'll ask, headquarters."' Over to the telephone stepped tho Colonel. He instructed tho operator to connect him .with a certain headquarters officor. Then he came back and glared at the Man-who-went-'Home. He was an adept at glaring. When •he tired of glaring at the Man-who-went-Home he glared at the papers the man had brought. At last tho telephone rang. The Colonel stepped up to it. "Are you there?" he asked. Evidently some cnc said "No," for the Colonel hung up the telephone. Again he glared, i'l'eu the telephone rang again. ' "Are you there? Are you t'i.ere? 1 say, is that you ? Well, this is . Captain- S sends mo a recruit who isn't registered. What am I to do with him? . . . Send him-back. Right you are." The Colonel glared again at the Man-who-went-Home. "There you i-re, you see. You oughtn't to bo here at all. You're going back. And please don't come again. Please don't snnoy me any more. Remember I've got a \ar .on . my hands." He sat down at his desk, scrawled something across the face tf the papers, sealed them in another envelope marked "On 'His Majesty's Service," handed them to the Man-who-went-Home, dismissed him with a snake of his head, and then occupied, himself with the war that he had on his hands.

Out of the armoury "went the Man-who-went-Home and back to the station. There was no train for :-n huur, and it was three o'clock when the Man-who-went-Home again mourned the stairs of the recruiting office at L . Captain S started. ."I told you to go to N ——," he said severely. "Did you go?"-

"Yes, sir." "Then why are you here?" For answer the Man-who-went-Home held out the sealed envelope. The Captain tore it open. He frowned as he xead it. "Most extraordinary," he drawled. "I put you in the army, and now they say you can't be put in the army. Really, I wish you hadn't come 1 ere. We've had- two years of war without an exceptional case like yours. It's most extraordinary. Here you are, a British subject of military age. I've put you in the army. That's vy job. Now they send you back to me. What am. I do do with you? It's plain as apple tart to me. You ought ..to bq in the army. The Military Act says so." "Could I see the Military Act, sir?" veutured the Man-who-went-Home.

' "I say, that is a good idea," interpolated the Captain. "We'll see what the Act says." He weut into his office and returned with a printed pamphlet. The first line'stated distinctly thnt it was to apply only to "persons ordinarily resident in Great Britain." In that way Ireland was exempted without being specified. "Look here, you're not ordinarily a resident of Great Britain," said the Captain. "How many years is it- you have been in the States ? . . . Fifteen. Then you're ordinarily resident in the States. That's clear as apple tart, lhe Act doesn't "apply to you. Now you bop along and please don't annoy me any more. Do you know," he confided, "I don't care if I never see you again?" "Then you don't want me any more?" , "No. You may go." 1 Back to his diggings went tlie Man-who-went-Home. There bis kit was packed for tbe trip to Ireland. The Man-who-went-Home thought of tlie doctor who advised him to get a permit and told llim he'd have no trouble. Then he unstrapped tbe bag and tool; out his clothes. ' After that be flung himself into a chair. . . . He was "Fed Up."