A MODEL ARMY

Rotorua Morning Post, Volume 3, Issue 672, 26 October 1933, Page 7

A MODEL ARMY

NEW BRmSH TROOPS IMPRESSIONS GAINED AT MANOEUVRES IN . ENGLAND. MEN MORE' REFINED. "Britain's New Model Army," which has been engaged in ananoeuv res on Salisbury Plain, is. described in an artiele by 1a special correspondcnt of the London Morninigi Post Who served in the Great Wiar. " "Well, gentlemen, you know the story of this war. After thei battle of the last three days of August, Brownland began a generai retirement and advanced guards of Whiteland were an touch' with them along a line between Southampton and Shipton Bellinger. The position now is — v— The Staff Colonel tumed to a g&nerous map of Salisbury Plain, and the speeta'tors had leaned forward like an o'bedient class. lOn my right was an officer from France; next to him a spruce observer from Italy. a shoulder badge with an eagle showed the United States was represented; aiid sitting opposite was a student of war from Japan. The assoiited iguests at Higher Training, 1933, or, more briefly, "Th'e Manoeuvres," came to attention. Brownland, as far as a layman could guess, were in for a thin time. The cardhoard markers and hits Of explanatory wool showed their sun was setting. The probable course of the campaign iwas revealed. There was a great deal about cavalry, close reconnaissance, tanks, and crossing the Avon. Was everything clear? The visitors made scratches on their

pocket maps and assented. As they fitled out on to the parched and shirnmering Plain our instruetor called — "And, please, gentlemen, do not congregate and give the show away hefore the advertised hours of startimg." The biattle, dni unprofessional eyes, appeared a little illusory — for what is war without whizzbangs and plum and apple jam? — hut I longed to hear mere about the troops who were conducting it. On the way to G.H.Q. I had heard queer rumours about our ' New Model Army, such as that beer and swear-words were put out of fasMon, "and that sergeant-majors had . been seen to smile. " J "Much the Same." j Unquestionably some troops I met | on the road Wiore their caps at a very proper angle; so instead of hurrying up the line I paused to interrogate the Staff. "The average soldier ? He's much the same," said a grizzled comanander, who had the Mons Star. "But probahly fi'tter— dseener on games, you know; and certainly more intelligent. He has to he. No, not s0 much beer as in the. old days. But they're dreadful fellows for tea, drink it at all hours in pailfuls." "Do they still grouse?" I asked hopefuly. "They do." l"And do you really think we can win the next war on tea and teacakes?" i"We trust there wont' be another war," replied the Staff. , Which was a taetful answer. It must not bq thought the wh'ole of Salisbury Plain is ia stricken field. Not far from wher© the New Zealanders cut out their Kiwi in the hillside

! '(it- is still kept piously clean) a few men remain peacefully inside the -permanent camps. Over one of these the gay flag- of the N.A.A.F.I. canteen was fioating. • The interior was .just the same— the long tables and forms, o.ne or two sentimental pictures hanging up, ea few off duty men luxuriaiting in shirt sleeves, and at the far >end piles of rock cakes, apples, biscuits, soap, | tooth-paste, and tinned fruit. For a moment all was comforting and familiar. And then I read the two- notices. They were attached to a line drawn taut above the counter, one to the right and one to the left. And one notice said: Tea Queue. And the other: Lemonade Queue. The Army of to-day is all wrong. As soon as I was in range .of the placard on the right a fellow in white coat planked down a cup of tea. I hurriedly moved aside. "Well, what do you want ?" he demanded when I was equi-distant between the notices, "Tea orCoffee?" I bought him off with a packet .of cigarettes. "Ycs, they still smoke," he told me, and fetched an indent. The order for Woodbines topped the list. That 'was something. "The Ashes." But Ithe tca uxn on the counter seemed to me to enclose the ashes of old soldiers. • "In 1927," whispered the barman or teapourer, "we had three men serving drinks and one chap refreshments. But to-day its' the other way round." "Do they eat anything?" I muttered. "Ohocolate and plain cakes," hissed the barman, "and lots of fruit." "I haven't seen ia crown and ancbor board for years," he went on, "or a pontbon sehool. They only play 'Housey Housey'," "The Army is more refined," I suggested. "Less horseplay," he agreed. "Can they swear?" I asked cautiously. The barman considered. "Not," he I said at last, "so rich." I Wandering down th'e lines of huts s I thoughit the faces compared with . the old days were more thoughtful, j cut finer. The difference is conveyed I by sayinigi that now we have an Army ! of racehorses instead of carthorses — 1 a better breed, n0 doubt, but slighter. j' Since the war-time camps have become fixtures, there have been considerable attempts at horticulture. M[any of the flower borders, in spite of the rough t, were highly creditable. Yet when I caught a youthful prdvate earnestly watering* a hed of antirrhinuiniiS v/hich the laftemoon had left in the shade, somehow it seemed distinctly odd.