“JOHNNY” FRENCH.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 1307, 6 October 1914, Page 4

“JOHNNY” FRENCH.

MAN WHO HAS “NO SIDE.”

A FINE DESCRIPTION

The other day there was cabled across the world a brief extract from the letter home of a soldier serving under him in France, who wa« good enough to state it as his opinion that the Commander-in-Chief ot Britain’s splendid army has “no side.” The writer of the letter may possibly be dead by this time, but the writer of this article (in an Australian exchange) begs to be permitted to endorse his opinion. There are many other people besides these two writers who will endorse it also. No one who has ever served under Sir John F'reuch could do otherwise. This writer has served under him, and he would like to tell three stories, which are perfectly true, in illustration of the entire soundness of the possibly dead soldier’s opinion of his great leader. They are not strictly in chronological order, and the best one comes first, and it is necessary to explain one or two things. About fourteen years ago the present writer had the honour to be a corporal in a squadron of cavalry which was attached to the and Dragoons—better known as the Scots Greys—and they were one of the three fine regiments which made up the ist Cavalry Brigade of the South African Field Force. The other two were the Inniskillings and the Carabiniers. So that is how he knows these true stories. “THE OLD MAN.” Towards the end of May, 1900, the present Prime Minister ot the South African Union General Botha —held up General French’s division for two days, and a bit over, in the vicinity of the Klip River. (You will find the affray described in The Times History of the War, and the German General Staff’s account o! it, as the Battle of Klip River’s Berg.; It ,vs ■.

very unpleasant and .l:w ..ung disagreement, arc? when it was over Lite division vva.- engaged in getting round between Johannesburg and Pretoria, and the writer found himsui, one sunny afternoon, riding alongside a corporal of the “Grrj ■A curious legend —of the sor; that petal - ::, to all wars —existed in th- First brigade, t o the effect that, although ‘‘Johnny” thought no end of it, he would never . n.A it in a - town. It was an absurd notion, for the simple reason that always mounted troops must be the outposts. But we all had the absurd notion in 1900. So the corporal of the “Greys” remarked to the writer —in a casual way and pretty loud —at the end of a discussion as to the chances of getting something to eat :—■

“I wonder whether the old man is going to let us into Johannesburg ?” Just as he said it, General French, riding up the column (on a horse that was in better condition than ours, attended by a single aide, arrived abreast of us, and heard the plaintive query. He turned half round iu his saddle, with a kindly grin and said: — “No —the —old man is not going to ' let you into Johannesburg !” And the back view of him that the writer realised as be rode on (whilst the writer and the “Greys” corporal nearly fainted) was his broad shoulders shaking with smothered laughter. WHAT THE ’s UP ? The second story of how, one morning, about four miles north of Kroocstadt, whilst the brigade rested for a couple ot days, it was suddenly ordered to “stand to your horses” outside the picket lines. With the usual curses the order was promptly obeyed (as orders always were in the First), and long lines of horses might have been seen stretched across the veldt, attended by unkempt men, who, jn different ways, were asking one another; “What the - up now ?” What was “up” was that the General was inspecting his horses. Near where the writer paraded at the head of the sorry skeleton that was his, stood Major Allenby, of the Inniskillings—now LieutenantGeneral 4M eiJ by—and as the General rode by he called out to him : “Hullo, Allenby, how are you—-

quite fit ?” That story seems a pointless one —but w T alt until you read the moral that the writer is going to draw after he has done with the third. DO YOU GET ENOUGH TO EAT ?

The brigade was camped, after the battle of Diamond Hill, at a place called Kamiel Drift, which had been part oi the battlefield, and was about twelve miles eastward of Pretoria. A certain percentage of the troops were given leave each day, for a week or so, to ride into the town —where they employed themselves in looking at the late Mrs Paul Kruger (that good, but very plain old lady), as she sat behind the two stone lions, buying expensive and inferior meals, writing postcards home, and trying, without much means, to get past the military police into the hotels. The writer rode in one day with four or five of his fellows. About half-way in we encountered the General riding out—attended by a single orderly—and, of course, rode to “attention,” and did the “eyes right” trick. He pulled his horse up, and halted us. He knew who we were —if for no other reason —by the green crosses on the sides of our helmets. “Hullo, you Australians,” he said, “how are you getting on — getting enough to eat now ?” There was such a pleasant grin on his face that one bold spirit % entured to reply — “We could do with a bit more, sir !” He shook his horse up, and rode on, laughing, calling over his shoulder, “Oh —you’ll have plenty soon.” ggAs a matter of fact we didn’t ; but one is sure that he couldn’t help it. And the moral that one wishes to draw from these three trivial anecdotes—quite apart from the way they serve to endorse the op'rdon ot the posWbly-dead English soldier —is that some part ot the real greatness of FieldMarshal .Sir John French lies in the kindly humanity that is his. His remark to the corporal of the “Greys,” his greeting to Major Allenby, his cheery inquiry as to our diet —these are the sort of, things that make his men love him. With the tremendous respect that they have for bis wisdom —the confidence that is hard to explain—with the knowledge that he will overlook no breach of discipline, with the respect and esteem that they hold him in as a man, there is mingled a sort of personal affection that very few men have the fortune to call up in their subordinates. Perhaps the Danes did not exaggerate his place in history very much when they compared him to Marlborough. But he is a more honest man than Marlborough.