THE COMMANDANT’S FAREWELL.

There was no mock hilarity on the final morning. We had too much to do. Kits had to be packed, books returned, the hut scrubbed out, and everything left shining and in order, for the pride of an army is ‘handing over’ in a spotless condition. That is always a good test of a well-trained and disciplined unit. Hitherto we had not been bothered about falderals; we were learning and swotting, and the commandant had little use for eye-wash. But this day we knew he expected to see tables—nay, floors—off which a king might eat his food. The ‘Old Man’ was not disappointed, for we all desired to leave the school with his fatherly benediction.

The boys were a bit sad. Tosher, Beefy, Nobby, Ginger, Billy, and myself—thanks to the good offices of Captain Cheerall—were to be gazetted to the same battalion. This was a piece of luck. But there were other good friends who were being scattered to the four ends of the earth. Many were bound to be killed; others we might never come across again. They were our brothers-in-arms, and we loved them as only men can love. The war and the army had opened our hearts. We men of all classes, all professions, have been linked into a loving community, which only death can sever.

‘Stand to your beds!’ roared the sergeant-major. We sprang to attention, and the colonel entered. His keen eye saw everything spotless and shining. He smiled and muttered, ‘Splendid, men!—splendid!’ and went off round the other huts. When this was over we were marched to the lecture-room to hear the ‘com.’s’ farewell.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘this will be a happy day for you. You are going forward. The King’s commission will shortly be yours. You will join battalions already famous. The good name of those regiments and the honour of our country will then be in your keeping. We have done our best for you, and I feel you will not let this school down. We have had our hard times, our sad times, also our jolly times, together. No doubt you were often bored, and did your share of grousing. That is only human. If you cannot see a marked improvement in yourselves, I can see it in you. You were more or less rebellious when you arrived. You all had different ideas of discipline, training, tradition, and esprit de corps. Many of these ideas were sound; others were not at all practical. But by steady grinding, patient teaching, and persistent application, my staff have created at least a seed-bed in good soil, and it is for you to develop the fruits of our instruction. We have not aimed at making you generals. Our job was to make you subalterns. There are other schools to teach you the arts of the higher command. Perhaps this elementary curriculum was too slow for the more brilliant; but these bright ornaments must remember that in a school like this we have to adapt our arrangements to the intellect of the majority, and not of the minority. The brainy minority can take care of themselves. It is for us to help the less fortunate, and give them confidence and the hall-mark of efficiency. I have a reason for making this remark, for I know we have intellectuals here, and I should regret if they left feeling we have not given them enough.

‘You must also remember that your training has been crammed into four months instead of three years, as we used to put in at Sandhurst. We are at war, and we cannot go into the bowels of everything. Still, considering all our disabilities, such as the absence of many brilliant men at the Front, I do feel we have reason to think that, on the whole, the course has been successful.’

‘Hear, hear, sir!’ we shouted.

‘I said, at the beginning, you will no doubt feel glad at going forward. I also am glad; but I am sorry too. This has been the most interesting of all my “courses,” and there are faces I shall miss, even that of my good Canadian friend, who, I understand, rejoices in the remarkable sobriquet of “Tosher.”’ (Loud laughter.) ‘I can assure you, gentlemen, I have learnt a lot from you. Here we have a pleasant mixing of the classes and the masses; also a sprinkling of splendid fellows from overseas. This confirms my view that ours is a Democratic army, also an Imperial army. I rejoice! This is a splendid signpost to the future. When the job is done, we shall settle down more friendlily, without the class distinctions and the horrible class war that were the curse of this country prior to 1914. You will also be interested to hear that, if you men are going forward, I too am about to receive promotion. I am taking unto myself a charming lady’——

We cheered tremendously. (By the way, the lady in question was none other than my aunt Jane!)

‘Yes—and next week I leave the school and the army—for ever. I am old now. My day is done. I came back again only to help the Old Land in its hour of pain and woe. Yet I think I have the wisdom of my race. This is a young man’s war. It is not for me to keep youth and vigour back; to stand a bulwark against progress, and put back the clock, so that I, a soldier of the past, may continue to enjoy the fruits of command. No! That is folly! We must win this war. Age cannot do it! It is beyond us! To youth we must hand the sword and the laurels! And yet, when I take off my Sam Browne belt and shove on my tweeds, I shall feel like a captain without a ship, like a man without a cause. However, there’s my lady. She will help me through!’

‘Hear, hear, sir!’

‘Another intimation. My successor is Captain Cheerall. This officer is of the Old Army, yet of the New. To me he has been a loyal colleague, a zealous friend, and an invaluable assistant. He is an extraordinary compound of intellect and emotion. Every time he talks to me, I feel I must clap him on the back. The school is, therefore, in good hands. When I have gone, perhaps the intellectuals will not feel so bored.’

‘You never bore us, sir,’ shouted Ginger, and all of us gave a cheer.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. Your kindness will lighten my coming darkness. But it’s of you I must speak. Do not think me a great Christian, for I am not. But this war, somehow or other, has brought me face to face with the fact: IT IS A HOLY WAR. We are not out for LOOT. We are out for PRINCIPLES. It is our testing-time. God and THE BRUTE are struggling for mastery. The religion, the morality, the safety of nations, mothers, and babes are in your keeping. Should we lose, the Cross will lose. I do beseech you to think it out, to lead clean lives, to go forward with the heart and aim of crusaders. It is not a burden! It is a privilege! There is no question of false glory. It is DUTY! And DUTY is the hall-mark of honour. Would to God that I were as young as you, so that I might fight the good fight and lead you on! Again, you have all got mothers, sisters, sweethearts; some of you have wives, perhaps bonny little babes. It is for you to guard them. The dripping sword must not be seen by their eyes, nor their blood stain your hearths. Think of Belgium! Think of Serbia! Think of Rumania!

‘Do not waste your time hating! Your work is KILLING. War is Germany’s religion! Brutality is her philosophy! Domination is ever her aim and vaunted creed! You must destroy the loathsome gods of Germany.

‘Well, gentlemen, I think that is all. I shall watch your careers. I shall keep your records in my study. Each great deed will be noted in my little book. The higher you go, the more I shall be pleased. And never think of me as your commandant. Think of me as your friend, as a father—for to me you’re boys, just dear boys, and I love you because you are going forth to help this dear Old Land.

‘Good-bye,’ he said with emotion, and turned away.

Tosher Johnson led a terrific cheer, and cried, ‘Let’s carry the Old Man round.’ We rushed him, lifted him high on our shoulders, and carried him across to the officers’ mess, singing:

‘For he’s a jolly good fellow,
For he’s a jolly good fellow,
For he’s a jolly good fellow,

Which no cadet denies.

‘Hip—hip—hooray! Hip—hip—hooray! Hip—hip—hooray!’

Thus the New Army parted from the Old.

Edinburgh: Printed by W. & R. Chambers, Limited.