1915_ The Death of Innocence - Lyn Macdonald [228]
Send out the Army and the Navy,
Send out the rank and file,
Send out the good old Territorials,
They’ll face danger with a smile!
Send out the Boys of the Old Brigade
Who kept Old England free,
Send out my brother, my sister and my mother,
But for God’s sake, don’t send ME!
It was a touch unkind, and the Kitchener Battalion shouted insults and imprecations until U Company was well down the road. They were the 9th Battalion, the Rifle Brigade, of the 14th Light Division – the very troops who had relieved U Company’s own brigade a few days before. The riflemen had been in Flanders for just over a month and, if they did not at present appreciate the joke, they looked forward to getting their own back. As the second of the New Army divisions to reach the front they too would be acting the old sweats before many weeks had passed, lording it over newer arrivals as the pace gathered momentum and Kitchener’s Army began to arrive in significant numbers.*
The vast bulk of the ‘First Hundred Thousand’ of Kitchener’s Army were champing at the bit. In their opinion they had been ready for months, and the last weeks of waiting had been weary. They were sick of drilling, sick of route-marching, sick of training, sick of mock attacks and if they were not exactly sick of the Army, they wanted to get on with the war. It had not been easy to equip them but now, at last, they were garbed in respectable soldierly khaki and could say goodbye to the suits of ‘Kitchener’s blue’. At long last they had rifles, and some who were natural shots could fire them. Others had been dragged through the final musketry tests on which the proficiency of the battalion depended. It was an open secret that a well-meaning instructor, seeing that a man was firing an unacceptable number of outers – or even missing the target altogether – had his own system. ‘I think there’s something wrong with that rifle, lad,’ he would say. ‘Let me try it.’ And, on the pretext of testing the weapon, he would pump enough inners and bullseyes into the target to make sure that a soldier got the required score. They would improve with practice – and they would get plenty of opportunity to practice in France. But they were fit, and they were keen and, ready or not, in the opinion of many Commanding Officers, as eager as their troops to get to the front, they were in danger of going stale with the long delay. Now that things were hotting up and there was a real prospect of getting going, the anticipation was unbearable as the days dragged and the troops chafed at the bit, waiting for the final inspection that would signal their departure.
The King was working hard, for he was anxious to inspect as many Kitchener’s Brigades as possible to wish them Godspeed. He was a modest man and he regarded this as a duty, for Kitchener’s men had been exhorted to join up in his name ‘for King and Country’, and even if he was exhausted by the end of June, his effort had given enormous pleasure and satisfaction.
Sgt. J. Cross, MM, 13th Bn., Rifle Brig., 37 Div.
King George was coming down to inspect the Division before we left and we’d been told that we had to keep a sharp look out. Well, at ordinary times the police used to do the guard for the camp because we were busy with our training, but this particular week we had to do camp guard for twenty-four hours and this particular day I was in charge of it (I was paid Acting-Sergeant at the time) and of course the other lads pulled my leg about this because I’d never done a guard in my life before, not even as a rifleman, because we hadn’t been anywhere to do one. I told my sentries, ‘You keep your eyes peeled. And if you see a cavalcade of horses come along there and if His Majesty is there there’ll be a chap riding along with the Royal Standard, so don’t forget to give us the word right smart!’ Well, suddenly a voice rang out, ‘Guard, turn out!’ And we jumped out and stood to attention. The King’s party passed along between the road and the camp, riding on the grass. When they got round more or less to