Snake and Sword: A NovelWren, Percival Christopher
General
Snake and Sword: A Novel
Wren, Percival Christopher
British -- India -- Fiction
A pity some of the energy that went to making the annual 20,000
military “criminals” out of honest, law-abiding, well-intending men
could not go to harassing the Canteen instead of the soldier (whom the
Canteen swindles right and left, and whence _he_ gets salt-watery beer,
and an “ounce” of tobacco that will go straight into his pipe in one
“fill”—no need to wrap it up, thank you) and discovering how handsome
fortunes, as well as substantial “illegal gratifications,” are made out
of his much-stoppaged one-and-tuppence-a-week.
Did the Authorities really yearn to _dis_courage enlistment and to
_en_courage desertion and “crime”? When would they realize that making
“crimes,” and manufacturing “criminals” from honest men, is _not_
discipline, is _not_ making soldiers, is _not_ improving the Army—is
_not_ common ordinary sanity and sense? When would they break their
dull, unimaginative, hide-bound—no, tape-bound—souls from the ideas
that prevailed before (and murdered) the Crimean Army…. The Army is not
now the sweepings of the jails, and more in need of the wild-beast
tamer than of the kind firm teacher, as once it was. How long will they
continue to suppose that you make a fine fighting-man, and a
self-reliant, intelligent soldier, by treating him as a depraved child,
as a rightless slave, as a mindless automaton, and by encouraging the
public (whom he protects) to regard him as a low criminal ruffian to be
classed with the broad-arrowed convict, and to be excluded from places
where any loafing rotten lout may go…. When would a lawyer-ridden Army
Council realize that there is a trifle of significance in the fact that
there are four times as many soldier suicides as there are civilian,
and that the finest advertisement for the dwindling Army _is the
soldier_. To think that sober men should, with one hand spend vast sums
in lying advertisements for the Army, and with the other maintain a
system that makes the soldier on furlough reply to the question “Shall
I enlist, mate?” with the words “Not while you got a razor to cut yer
throat”…. Ah, well, common sense would reach even the Army some day,
and the soldier be treated and disciplined as a man and a citizen—and
perhaps, when it did, and the soldier gave a better description of his
life, the other citizen, the smug knave who despises him while he
shelters behind him, will become less averse from having his own round
shoulders straightened, his back flattened and his muscles developed as
he takes his part in the first fundamental elementary duty of a
citizen—preparation for the defence of hearth and home…. Lucille! Well
… Thank God she could not see him and know his life. If _she_ had any
kindness left for him she would suffer to watch him eating well-nigh
uneatable food, grooming a horse, sweeping a stable, polishing
trestle-legs with blacklead, scrubbing floors, sleeping on damp straw,
carrying coals, doing scullion-work for uneducated roughs, being
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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