Came a day when Tiadatha Handed in at last his rifle, And as a Platoon Commander, Found out what commanders feel like (Sort of super-idiot feeling) When they shout “Right Turn” for “Left Turn,” When they loudly bawl out “Eyes Left” For a General on their right hand. Daily too upon parade he Looked at his platoon’s cap badges, Saw its every button polished, Learnt that private soldiers’ hair grows Fast as cress upon a blanket. Many hours he spent in drilling, Spent in Foot and Kit inspections, Spent in strenuous Brigade Days On the windy downs of Dudshire, Finding (as he’d long suspected) That a subaltern’s existence Isn’t quite all beer and skittles. Such was Tiadatha’s training. CHAPTER III TIADATHA’S WOOING During all the months of training, Months of waiting down in Dudshire, Often sighed my Tiadatha For his haunts about St. James’s, Missed his little flat in Duke Street, Missed his morning devilled kidneys. But at times he snatched a week-end From the joys of bombs and bayonets, Put his name down in the leave book And went crashing up to London. In the East they tell a legend Of the crocodiles that dwell there, Basking in the tropic sunshine On the mudflats of the rivers. Every night (so natives tell you) All the crocodiles will vanish To the palace of their rajah Underneath the winding rivers; There each crocodile his skin doffs, Hangs it in the palace courtyard And becomes a human being. Even so my Tiadatha Doffed his tunic for those week-ends, Hung his soldier’s mental skin up, Put off thoughts of bomb and bayonet, Turning to the haunts that knew him In July of 1914. Thus fared he through months of waiting Till at last there came the tidings: “We go out to France in three weeks, Final leave begins on Friday.” So it chanced that Tiadatha Spent his final leave in London, And one night looked in at Murray’s With a brother from the Dudshires. “I have got to meet my sister,” Said his brother from the Dudshires, “Meet my little sister Phyllis, Come and dance a fox-trot with her.” Rather bored felt Tiadatha, Thinking how he’d asked to supper Cloe Goldilocks of Daly’s, Bored until he saw this Phyllis, Heard his friend say, “Here’s my sister; Phyllis, this is Tiadatha.” Fair was she and slim and slender, Like an April day her eyes were, Green and grey as days in April. And her mouth curved like a rose leaf, And her smile was like the sunshine Playing on the Thames at Chelsea Early on a summer morning. Slim and slender as his sword was.