“BOOTLE’S BABY,” OR THE MYSTERY MAN

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 109, 1 February 1935, Page 10

“BOOTLE’S BABY,” OR THE MYSTERY MAN

Questions in a Lift REDOUBTABLE MR. SMITH UNDER\ FIRE The interview took place in a lift, emptying and filling and shuttling between six floors. It would not have been in a lift if this could have been helped, but it so happens that he —the Wellington mystery man who used to be known as Bootle’s Baby from end to end ot the .Western Front, tlie man who likened a French general to his face unto a pug-nosed sergeant, the man whom the King appointed one of a chosen seven in tlie British Empire, tlie man who was a member of the Secret —but enough ... it so happens that he is a liftman. It is hard to pump a liftman. It was even more difficult to pump such a liftman as this. “Man in the D.I.C. building,” said the instructions leading up to the interview. “He is a King's corporal Has received a letter

from tlie Duke.” That was something to start on. But he has a characteristic way with him. “The Duke Laughed.” He didn’t mind explaining about the Duke, and also .about bis old regiment, two subjects that are related. “The Duke was coming up in the lift to visit the United Services Club,” he said. "He saw my ribbons and said, ‘What regiment?’ 'Twelfth Lancers.’ I said; 'the regiment that was always in trouble.’ The Duke laughed.” The regiment existed before the Indian Mutiny, he continued, in between manoeuvring the series of lift ■gates. It was now mechanised; at present in the Saar. What was his own military career? Oh, general prize scallywag. Galloper and field general’s scout in the Boer War; and then France. “I hear you’re a King’s Corporal. What does that rank consist of?” “Just a gift from the King. Carries privileges and a pension with it. Officers have told me it’s more profitable than their rank.” Were there any other King’s Corporals in New Zealand? “I don’t know,” lie said, “but there are only seven of us in the world.” AU this while the gates were clashing and passengers streaming in and out of the lift. Then, in a quiet moment, with no one to overhear, lie was asked what lie did to be ranked one of the seven. “Acting the goat,” he said. He was pressed further, and the lift shot from top to bottom and back again twice before the information was gleaned that lie bad done “special service work.” What was that? “Playing about.” Playing about where? “Oh. shooting about France. Roving commission ...” Nothing. . . . “But I toll you I didn’t do anything except make myself a nuisance. On the mat most of the time,” he said later when the lift arrived at an oasis of silence. “If you’ve got to know something I’ll tell you about the time I said to a French general, ‘"Who's general here? You or that pug-nosed sergeant?’ ” AVe.ll, what about' it? "Nothing.” Yes, but what happened? “Nothing." Why? “Well, here to-day. gone tomorrow, that was me. . . .” A clue. Was lie in the Secret Service? He admitted it. In Germany at all? “No. never in Germany. Plenty of trouble my side of the line. Courtmartials. . . .” He court-martialled? “No; other people.” That explained a lot. What was his name? “My name? Forgot I ever had out’. I’m like Topsy; I just grew up. Call me Bootle’s Baby.” Why? “Well, everyone else called me Bootle’s Baby.” Why? “Because of the time the colonel of a regiment in India looked into his room and found a baby lying on the bed. The regiment held a council of war and they handed it over to Mrs. O.C. to bring up. It was a charge on the regiment, see?” So? “Well, that's what I was: a charge on the regiment. So I got called Bootle’s Baby right along the front line.” Nothing more was said about his mime for the moment, but instead a considerable amount of cajolery was wasted to persuade this mystery mini to pose for his photograph. The lift .'hutlled about to a total of something <ikc 30 stories before he gave in. He stood outside the doors, commented (bat if was a pity be hadn’t got bis medals with him. and then drew tip in Iho best Twelfth Lancers manner And (he Name. The game was up. and he knew it. But still he wouldn't say anything about his peculiar type of secret service. except to repeat that he went about France “playing the goat." Still, lie had to give his name now. He gave it. “Call me the redoubtable Mister Smith." ho said. "G. E Smith. The man who wouldn't die. The.man who wouldn’t get killed, and was too tonal) Io bo hung.” And from the beginning to the end of that interview the lift must have travelled a distance equivalent to about the height of Mount Cook, and about three hundred and sixteen people Iml keen In mid out. And none of them could have known much less about the liftman, mid certainly they lire not likely to know much more about him than the public to whom he is present ed this morning.