A RECRUIT IN HOT WATER.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 191, 14 July 1916, Page 1 (Supplement)

A RECRUIT IN HOT WATER.

I . . Tales of a New Tommy . .

I EARLY DAYS IN THE GUARDS. 3£ (From the "Scotsman ")

In pre-war days the bath-houses in the depot may have been sufficient in number to permit of every man in the place having an occasional bath in comfort and at his leisure; but when I joined the depot they certainly were not. I had my first regimental bath on a day when I had been—let me whisper it —marched from the guard-room to the bath-house with other prisoners. ' This confession suggests either that 1 went unwashed for a long time after j joining the Army or that I g ot :n *° "hot water" very soon. The latter is the correct surmise. In company with J Private Wull MacStravick I was, on my fifth day in the depot, deposited in the "clink" by the Sergeant-Major for having missed a parade. We were, ever, th<? victims of a miscarriage of justice. We had been detailed, wrongly, for fatigue duty at a time when we should have been on the square. The I Sergeant-Major discovered nis mistake j when we had been in durance vile for about three hours, and caused us to be J released. We still, however, await his humble apology for the error! OFF TO THE BATHS. Wa had been in the guard-room for only a few minutes and had by no means exhausted our stock n? adjectives suited to the prefacing of a certain senior N.C.O.'s regimental— :vd therefore unflattering—nom de guerre, when the door opened asd Ho sergeant of the guard shouted, "Ccne en I 'ere; line up; step lively!" There w*re I eight or nine of us in " clink!; that day; one was the "Bad man" of the depot; he is se'dom out of the guardroom. We trooped out into the blftved sunshine, and were marched, under armed guard, and almost "at the double" to one of the bath-houses. There was a long line of recruits waitilg Us enter but the cornoral in charge of us "criminals" called" out "prisoners" js we approached, and we were admitted at once by the trained soldier in charge of the baths 5 . The interior of each batb.-h>nse is I partitioned to form abont , a dozen "bathrooms." Each -f Jiese cub'les holds a small bath and "shower. '"Loose boxes"—just like 'those in a stable—line the walls. Into one o* thrse boxes Wull and I were ushered by the trained soldier. We were told "o undress quickly, and not to j'wfcstc no time wonderin' if our delikit cons'l- - would stand the uurr'nl shock of a bath. All this hm« I had not seen a towel. I asked the I S. if we could have one. He tvnA, " Never mind no towel. You're here to get. washed and clear back where you came from as fast as you like—or laster! But my dander was up througu our baring been locked up without real i cause, and this speech of the 1'..». serr- j cd onlv to raise it a bit ngoer. " AM right," I said; "no towel, -10 luth; and you can do what you like niton*, it. * " An' that's whit Ah say, said \\ ull. } "D've think we're in wi' a inp?" We had struck the right n..:e. I.ach man is supposed to have his own towel I with him when he goes for a bath, but . T.S. knew that we had not lieen per- : mitted to call in at the barrack-room, ] ■„nd that we could not therefore be j blamed for being towel-less. And he . must have been pretty sure that we . were in the right in refusing to bathe , without a towel, for—he said no more, i looked volumes, and—brought tne . towel. A victory for the allies! f When we had undressed we entered ono of the "bathrooms." There were three men already there. "You needn t try elsewhere," said one as we turned to seek an apartment less popular. "They're all the same." And so, in a bathroom designed originally to bare- j ly accommodate one person, Wull ana I I and three others, had our "bath." j The water in the bath (the T.S. con- j trolled the supply) appeared to have , baen there since the opening of the depot, and the "shower" was not work- J ing From the other cubicles came, in all the dialects of Britain, various pithv and elegant comments on the sit- j nation. "Blimev! mite, 'oo sed the ' bafrooms in the Carlton wos classy r* They ain't nuffink to these 'ere, 010 | sport; you kin bet chew'r life!" "Ah wunner whit the auld wife wid say if ; she could see iss noo! Haw, Dod, see s ower the soap." "Sure, an' the wat- j ther's as black as Corporal Snaugh- ] nessy's sowl—an' that's as black as i the divvle's!" AN INVITATION. When we had "washed" (the cere- i mony consisted in each rubbing the ' other down with the towel), Wull and L ; returned to our loose-box and dressed. , As we passed out to join our fellow- j misdemeanants preparatory to being rushed back to the "dogs' home," Wull ; said to the T.S. -"If iver ye shid hae a fancy for a thick ear, or twa, jist send , in yur caird tae 'Woodford,' barrack- j room number one. Wullum MacStra- j cick's ma name." "All right, mat©, I'll remember," said tho T.S. with a grin which suggested that be was perhaps , not such a bad sort alter all. Now, lest any reader who purposes to j honour himself by joining this brigade, should fear that, if lie does join, he will be obliged to take his weekly bath j under conditions similar to those I havo described, let me now state that the j bathing accommodation has been in- j creased and improved to so pleasing an extent that it is now a joy to attend bathhouse parade. And, anyway, men \ do not join the Army because they ex- i poet to get a Turkish bath, with coffee ; and cigarettes, every day. They join j the Army to expedite the return of tho Hun to the unhallowed region whence ; the breed sprung, and where, it is j rumoured, baths do not exist!. So, j reader—l'll meet you at the gate —the • gate of the depot, of course, not the : gate of the "unhallowed region."' ' MORE "HOT WATER." While T am on the subject of "hot ; water." let me te'l of another occasion when'Willi and T almost got into it "up to the neck." Every morning in the barrack-room two men are dialled to act as ".'wain" for \\w day. Briefly stated, the duties of the "swabs" arc:

—To go to the cookhouse a few minutes before each meal-time, carry the "grub" from the cookhouse to the barrackToom, and, when the meal is over, " rede up" generally and take the table leavings to the refuse bin and the empty food tins back to the cookhouse. Than these duties none could be more simple and easy of observance by any well-conducted barrack-room. But during my few first weeks in the depot many lively little skirmishes occurred in the barrack-room through the men not being detailed properly for swab duty. One morning my regimental "cliewinm-gum" (chum), Private Wull MacStravick. and I were seated on our beds enjoying a fragrant afterbreakfast Woodbine (a Woodbine is light; it was morning of pay-day and we had only one "coffin nail" between us), when a discussion arose in the room as to who should take the empty tins back to the cookhouse. The two men who had brought them said they were not the "swabs" for the day. They had brought the tins simply because, chancing to be passing the cookhouse when breakfast was being issued, they had observed that their room was not represented in the line of "swabs" waiting to be supplied. And they were " —j- sure they weren't going to take 'em back again!" " A corpora! who messed in the rooms, and who had interested himself in the discussion, said to MacStravick and me, "Here, you two; you're not doW' nothin'; take these dixies to the cookhouse."'

But Wull and I.had been "swabs" the day ..before. We intimated this to the corporal, but all he said was, "1 don't care a continental if youVo been doin' swabs ever since you poked your ugly noses in at the front gate. These tins are goin' back to the cookhouse, an' you're g°inl to take 'em, see? Now, step lively r Of course the corporal was right, if inelegant in speech. The blama lay w'th the T.S., who had forgotten to detail " swabs" for the day. I realised this clearly, and was about to step lively as directed, when Private MacStravick intimated winningly that he would see the dixies and the corporal himself in a hotter place than the cookhouse before he would obey the order. Whereat I sat down again, thereby associating myself with these felicitous sentiments of my pal Wull. "Is that how you feel?" said the corftwal. "All right. I'll give you one minute to shift the tins. If they're not gone by that time you're both for it,"

T ' " Aw, mak' us for it at yince, an' be e through wi' it," said Wull. "Ah came here tae be tram't tac gie Germans a 1 ■ dose o' poother, no' take tac dae ither " \ folks' dirty wurk." . '.'. Lead—or steel—not "poother, 13, ' of course, tiie diet reserved for any d German who comes Wull's way when that doughty warrior "frae Pysley" ■ i gets "ower yonder"; but his meaning was quits clear. We were committed , j to a policy of passive resistance—a '} ' policy, or so it seemed to me, which 1 i would inevitably lead us once more to *" j "dink.'' But salvation was at hand. '' i "Blimey! the tins' as done a guy!" c i exclaimed a recruit (a Cockney who e i had enlisted in the Jocks because be e I had heard that mtmbers of Scottish 0 : regiments frequently had bottles oi ! > ' whisky from home.) e J And, sure enough, the dixies had , ' gone. ' Unnoticed, two of the boys had d 1 removed them white the dispute was e ' raging. One of them told me later * that he and his mate had done this bed cause they did not wish to see me " an '• that blinkin' good sort, MacStravick, a get into no mess." . ( ;T Of course, my friend, the blmkin ™ ' good sort, and 1 were greatly the debtj ors of these two Samaritans; but wo " 1 had also I think, to thank the core ! poral for letting the matter end where '-j it did, although Wull said that "he " I done i because he kent fine if he hid a a pit iss in the gairdroom he w;d 'a goat s . a thick ear when we came oot." Rookie, " ! however, is not encouraged to make 3 ' the presentation of "thick ears" to ■ corporals a hobby, and I fancy that 0 , Wull would discover, did he pass a few 1 days in the guardroom, that his enthuf: si asm" for "thick earing" would wilt s rather woefully. - i A HOSPITABLE SERGEANT. s i I Any account of life in the depot I which did not contain mention of Ser- ! </eant Petcre would be like a sandwich ' i without meat or a nut without a ker- ■ • nel. I shall therefore ask readers to 2 ' accompany me to the square, and there 1 1 behold the squad being "put through * j it" bv the peerless Peters. - "For-m fours! As you were \ Squaw-d'alt! . . . Look 'ere, Poc--1 j tor Crippen—Yss, vou with the orriblc J ' dial an' the knock-knees—W hatid ye 1 ! mean by it? When 1 say 'form fours ' i is there anvthin' at all to prevent you ■ j from takin' me at my bare bloomm 1 - word? 'Form fours' don't mean that 1 you've got to tie your (de'eted) knees s 1 'in a (deleted) knot. An' it don't mean ! that you've got to stand still til you ve ' i «'iven over wonderin' what your mam- > ' ma would say if she could see you now. - If she did see vou now, she'd go omc 1 ! an' do a w.-ep." You're in the Brigade 0 0' Guards mv lad, not a wmimen s 2 I vigilance eommittee! . • • Squad, - xhec-un!—Bv the left, slow march . 1 Form fours!—As you were!—bquaw--1 i>.,itl . You make me sail, doc--1 I lor- vou do really. When T saw you - i iwne'in the from gate 1 said to my--2 ! H'if 'Hero at last is the man the de•l i iv.t' was built for. Tl anybody can « Snak-3 the poor ole second battalion 0 j rea'ly a battalion, this is the lad lor * i the iob. He's got more than one field- '. ! marshal'? baton in his knapsack lias c j this youngster; he's got orf a dozen to 0; dish out to his barrack-room pals a, ' well. An' now. where is my t.utu. i Whore the battalion s only hope. U ; vou don't give over gnmn' 'ke a. bay olepbant in the rnt.\ my lad, you 11 e •t 5 for it. We tanm ti--,< tw.c* a day'" n Ibis (W: don't fevger;t! Sound, t ,'.,« n !-Hv the left, muck mnirh !-■ 11 Double' Double, I said, yiii Melelou <• deletions.) l-unime, who «aid Hun y snipers '.'' - '■ I am writing this in the dennt ivncl-

ing-room. My friend Wull is seated near at hand. He is reading a letter he has just received from the "bent bit o' stuff in Coats's Mill." 1 ask him, '• What did Sergeant Peters say to you when he called you out of tho ranks that day, Willi r* "Oh, yon time, says wull. tie copped me whisperin' tae Munro, an' tfiti't me to fa' oot. Ah thocht he wis gaun to pit me in the book for speakin' in the ranks, but he jist says to me. awfy polite, 'Have you been down in the Valley lately, Private MacStrawvick?' An' Ah says tae him, wunnerin' whit ho wis getting' it, 'Yes, serjint,' Ah says, 'Ah wis doon in the Valley last nicht.' 'An' did she give you a message for Private Munro!"' he says. 'Did who gi'e me a message for Private Munro?' says I. 'You were speakin' to Munro in the ranks just now weren't you?'he says. 'Yes, serjint,'' says I. 'Well,' says he, 'what did vou have to say to him that wouldn't keep till you got back to the barrack-room if it wasn't a word of hope from tho doctor' 6 slavey in the Valley ? Remember in future, Private MacStrawvick, that recruits in my squad arc not permitted to discuss anything but affairs of the heart on parade, and then not for more than live minutes at a time without my special permission. Fall in!' Ah think whiles," adds Wull, "that the serjint's no' jist a' there." But Wull is wrong; the sergeant » very much "a' there"; though there may lie some truth in a statement that Wull is fond of making that "the serjint's surcaistics'll be the daith o' him yit."

NOT DRILLED BY GEORGE ROBE\

To a recruit who smi'ed at one of hi» remarks on parade .Sergeant Peters said, "Look 'ere, Bngham Young, whoever told you that you were goin" to be drilled to-day by George Robey was pullin' your leg. My name is not 'George Rol>ey.' It' 6 not 'Mark Sheridan' nor 'Wilkie Bard' neither. I do all my music-hall work at nights over in tho married quarters. Come over some night an' I'll paint my nose red an' do a couple of choruses an' a breakdown for you. In the meantime, you're on parade—a real soldiers' parade, though you wouldn't think so to look at some of you. You look more like a lot of old cab horses waitin' to/ be shipped to Antwerp, or a lot of old-age pensioners waitin' for the pubs to open on Friday mornin'. The " rookie" who had thi6 speech addressed to him alleges that he went to the sergeant's quarters a few evenings later, and was admitted by Sergeant Peters and introduced to Mrs. Peters and all the little Peters's. He further swears that the sergeant gave him a cigar and a whisky and 6oda, and, accompanied on the piano by Mrs Peters, sang in excellent style two of George Robey's songs, and one of Mark Sheridan's, and then executed a brilliant "breakdown" on the hearth-.rug. And before he left—so "rookie" saysMrs Peters gave him a slice of cake and a glass of port, and invited him to call again and a 6 often as lie liked. 1 am the only man in the depot who believes "rookie's" story; and I believe it because I am "rookie." and the story is true—TOMMY RAW.