Armed Forces -- Fiction; English poetry; Prisoners -- Fiction; Short stories, English
Burgard leaned forward didactically. “The Regulations lay down that
every man’s capacity for command must be tested to the uttermost. We
construe that very literally when we’re on the ‘heef.’ F’r instance,
any man can apply to take the command next above him, and if a man’s
too shy to ask, his company officer must see that he gets his chance. A
sergeant is given a wing of the battalion to play with for three
weeks—a month, or six weeks—according to his capacity, and turned
adrift in an Area to make his own arrangements. That’s what Areas are
for—and to experiment in. A good gunner—a private very often—has all
four company-guns to handle through a week’s fight, acting for the time
as the major. Majors of Guard battalions (Verschoyle’s our major) are
supposed to be responsible for the guns, by the way. There’s nothing to
prevent any man who has the gift working his way up to the experimental
command of the battalion on ‘heef.’ Purvis, my colour-sergeant,
commanded the battalion for three months at the back of Coolgardie, an’
very well he did it. Bayley ’verted to company officer for the time
being an’ took Harrison’s company, and Harrison came over to me as my
colour-sergeant. D’you see? Well, Purvis is down for a commission when
there’s a vacancy. He’s been thoroughly tested, and we all like him.
Two other sergeants have passed that three months’ trial in the same
way (just as second mates go up for extra master’s certificate). They
have E.C. after their names in the Army List. That shows they’re
capable of taking command in event of war. The result of our system is
that you could knock out every single officer of a Guard battalion
early in the day, and the wheels ’ud still go forward, _not_ merely
round. We’re allowed to fill up half our commissioned list from the
ranks direct. _Now_ d’you see why there’s such a rush to get into a
Guard battalion?”
“Indeed I do. Have you commanded the regiment experimentally?”
“Oh, time and again,” Burgard laughed. “We’ve all had our E.C. turn.”
“Doesn’t the chopping and changing upset the men?”
“It takes something to upset the Guard. Besides, they’re all in the
game together. They give each other a fair show you may be sure.”
“That’s true,” said Matthews. “When I went to N’Gami with my—with the
half-company,” he sighed, “they helped me all they knew. But it’s a
gift—handling men. I found _that_ out.”
“I know you did,” said Burgard softly. “But you found it out in time,
which is the great thing. You see,” he turned to me, “with our limited
strength we can’t afford to have a single man who isn’t more than up to
any duty—in reason. Don’t you be led away by what you saw at Trials
just now. The Volunteers and the Militia have all the monkey-tricks of
the trade—such as mounting and dismounting guns, and making fancy
scores and doing record marches; but they need a lot of working up
before they can pull their weight in the boat.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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