The Irish Guards in the Great War, Volume 2 (of 2) : $b The Second Battalion and AppendicesKipling, Rudyard
History
The Irish Guards in the Great War, Volume 2 (of 2) : $b The Second Battalion and Appendices
Kipling, Rudyard
Great Britain. Army. Irish Guards -- History; World War, 1914-1918 -- Regimental histories -- Great Britain
They were back at La Gorgue again on the 13th January, in divisional
rest; the 3rd Guards Brigade relieving them. While there the C.O.
launched a scheme for each subaltern to pick and train six men
on his own, so as to form the very hard core of any patrols or
bombing-parties he might have to lead hereafter. They were specially
trained for spotting things and judging distance at night; and the
tales that were told about them and their adventures and their
confidences would fill several unprintable books. (There was an
officer who did not so much boast as mount, with a certain air, a
glass eye. One night, during patrol, he was wounded in the shoulder,
and brought in by his pet patrol-leader, a private of unquestioned
courage, with, by the way, a pretty taste for feigning abject fear
when he wished to test new men with whom he was working in No Man’s
Land. He rendered first aid to his officer whose wound was not
severe, and then invited him to “take a shquint” at the result. The
officer had to explain that he was blind on that side. Whereupon, the
private, till the doctor turned up, drew loud and lively pictures of
the horror of his wife at home, should it ever come to her knowledge
that her man habitually crawled about France in the dark with an
officer “blinded on the half of him.”)
They rested for nearly a fortnight at La Gorgue, attended a
lecture—“if not instructive, at least highly entertaining”—by Max
Abbat, the well-known French boxer, on “Sport and what England had
done for France,” and had a regimental dinner, when ten of the
officers of the First Battalion came over from Merville with their
brigadier and the Staff Captain, and Lieutenant Charles Moore who had
saved the Battalion Christmas dinners, looked after them all to the
very end which, men say, became nebulous. Some one had been teaching
the Battalion to bomb in style, for their team of thirty returned
from Brigade Bombing School easy winners, by one hundred points in
the final competition. (“Except that the front line is mostly quieter
and _always_ more safe, there is no differ betwixt the front line and
Bombing School.”)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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