Gunner Wolverhampton, as the archetype of his fellows, deserves more than passing notice. He had served twelve years in the regiment, had taken his discharge, and was in civilian employment when the war broke out. As soon as recruiting regulations allowed, that is about the third week of the war, he re-enlisted. These re-enlisted men were allotted regimental numbers from one upwards in the order in which they offered themselves, and Gunner Wolverhampton is justly proud of his single figure number. In appearance he is about forty-five, with a grave face, a well-built figure, and a slow and weighty method of speech. His peculiarity lies in his nose, which is a rich crimson--it must have been a most expensive acquisition. When asked his civilian trade, he gives it as sign-painter, a statement that once surprised one of his comrades into remarking _sotto voce_, "Gawd love us, chum, I thought you was a whisky-taster!" An old soldier of the finest type, knowing all the ropes and imbued with that highest form of self-respect that only the traditions of the service can propagate, he is perfectly invaluable by the mere force of his example in these days when soldiers are turned out by the million in a few months. A certain proportion of the battery _matériel_ and stores were entirely in his hands, and he has never throughout the campaign been found deficient by so much as a pick-handle, nor has his gun ever failed to be spotlessly clean and in perfect order. Without the inclination or necessary educational qualifications for promotion, he is useful and contented as a gunner, and in times of emergency the whole of his section, including the non-commissioned officers themselves, instinctively turn to him for guidance. He it is that when the detachments are worn out after a long period of digging or of working the gun, keeps them hard at it by his example and by caustic criticism of their relative feebleness; he it was that walked calmly down to where a neighbouring battery was being shelled and led a party out, as though he were taking some friends to get a drink, to where the shells were falling viciously round two or three wounded men, bringing them in with utter unconcern for his own danger. Ah, Gunner Wolverhampton, if this war makes of all who serve in it men such as you, then the cost of it in blood and treasure will be as nothing when set by the side of the freshly won strength of a nation rejuvenated!