OUR LONELY SOLDIERS

Hokitika Guardian, 9 March 1928, Page 4

OUR LONELY SOLDIERS

(By Sir l’ereival Phillips). LAN 1)1 KOTAL. Kh.vber Pass, January 12. (Soldiering on the Noi l It-West Frontier is a dull job for Atkins, if you judge it by the standards of garrison live in civilised places, but if I as one great virtue which he himsell fully recognises. It. is producing as line a type of young soldier as the British Army has ever seen. Tito “Old Contemptibles” woo 1 ! be justly proud of their successors in the field. Hard as nails, clear-eyed, and well disciplined, they are a credit to the regiments they .servo in this aivngo border country, where li i I linen still look on war as the meat and drink of everyday life. Siren nous cll'ort and the; simple life have worked wonders with the raw material from Un/'ish farms and workshops. Any matt in.d of a batlalion commander would bo proud of them. And vet Atkins pays' v.ba* be considers a bigb price for _ soldierly Witness. He lial'-s the frontier. You cannot blame him. Cut ofi jrom most of the simple pleasures to which he is accustomed, hemmed, in by htgli, bleak bills, behind which are strange, unfriendly people, without a natch of green to lighten the wastes of rock, and with even his supply of water become a valuable possession, he cannot b ’ censured for looking with profound distaste on bis surroundings. Even Peshawar is merely tolerated. There the new soldier i.s comparatively in touch with civilisation. He can walk the dusty roads of ihe cantonment when oil ilnlv; there are native shops in which he can purchase Inane magazines and souvenirs; and playing fields for the encouragement of all sport. There are even nursemaids. Atkins may' “walk out” if lm feels that way—provided he is one of the lucky few. for obviously there are far more K.0.Y.L.1.s than the supple of nursemaids can content. Peshawar, however, is a pour substitute for such cheerful depots as Lucknow or . Lahore. The troops must circulate behind barbed wire. They cannot make excursions into the surrounding country, even if they so desirud. Nor can they go into the native city, one of the most picturesque in all India, except by special arrangement. In the matter of cinemas, too, the entertainment fare falls short of requirements. “A hole.” relilies; Atkins when asked what he thinks of Peshawar. A’ct he Is infinitely better off there than his comrades in this frontier fort of Lnndi Kotai. I cannot imagine a more cheerless or depressing place for the education of the young British soldier. It i.s tucked amid the grim folds of the Khvber, five miles from Afghanistan, and twentyfive from Peshawar, a colony of drab hutments on a drab field, with the Ivhyber highway skirting one long side of its enclosed parade ground and all around it the gaunt hills of the Afridi country. It has all the desolation of Aden without the mitigating influence of the sea. The vegetable world long since wrote it off as a total loss. A tree that found itself there would die of astonishment. The winter wind whistles down the pass with diet clouds in its wake; in summer the burning heat recalls the Sahara. The riflemen stationed here as remote as the monks in an Alpine hospice, and, like them, are dedicated to an austere ITt'e in which work plays the most important part. But they thrive. Indeed. they thrive. The soldiers that keep the Khvber are hardy lads. They pass you with a cheerful smile, and their officers will tell you that just as they respond whole-heartedly to the instructors who keep them up to the mark, they make the most of their limited facilities for recreation. I This post-war young soldier is a.I new type to the Indians. They like I him hotter than the roystering, rath- j >r truculent veteran of frontier cam- | paigns who garrisoned the depots on j the border half a generation ago. I His training includes manners as well | is drill. Ho does not kick an iniffensive native into the middle of i the road on slight provocation, nor j ipscst a stall in the bazaar as a sign | :hat lie is in good spirits. And the . uiblie drinking shops in tile canton- [ ; nents, where soldiers on pass are in.- j ;itod to amusements, sell more nonilcoholic drinks than the other kind. J I came upon a group of these lads j ti the high road to-day, bartering i vitli the inevitable itinerant Indian iedlar who lives on the needs of the oldier in remote camps. They were j lissecting his well-filled baskets and ; ; iargaining with fine detenninaticTp j ver their contents. He was a shrewd ' ( uerchant, that Indian. He had come ; ut of Peshawar with a stock that * [lost appealed to the exiles in the Ihyber hills. And what do you think was ? | A heap ol rather spiled and b,edit ggled bits of pasteboard, the odd- !

ments left over from other years. Christmas cards!