During January and February 1915 hardly a day passed without my seeing one or more units, or sometimes a whole Brigade. Often did I enter the billets and barns, to be greeted by a chorus of cheers and shouts, and the Indians would gather round and ask how the war was getting on. I frequently took with me some of the presents received from friends in England or India, and the varied class of these sometimes caused great amusement. One kind lady had sent several coloured waistcoats for “the dear Sikhs,” as she styled them. Amongst these ornate articles was one made up of patches of every hue under the sun; it was an extraordinary garment and was trimmed with gold lace. Seeing a party of Sikhs in front of a barn, I stopped and asked them if they would like some presents from England, and if so to come to the car and receive them. All but one sulky-looking fellow came up and I asked why he did not come. They all said, “Oh, he is a pessimist; he thinks the war will never end; of what use is anything to him?” I at once took the coloured garment in my hand, and went up to the man and in his own language asked him, as a favour, to accept it at the hands of his General. The sepoy took it in a rather surly manner and opened it, but even his torpor gave way when he saw the gorgeous coat. All the others roared with laughter, in which he joined heartily, and putting it on said, “General Sahib, you have altered my ideas of the war, for this proves that people must still be full of humour in England, and not as I have heard despondent. I will send it home to my village, and attach a card to it: ‘Taken by me —— Singh in single combat with the German Emperor and presented to me on a full-dress parade by the Commander-in-Chief in France.’” They told me afterwards that he had become an optimist and very keen all round. Against 12th February I find in my diary: “General Robertson came to see me and stayed an hour—he is a genius.” I do not think I was far wrong. I only wish I had got to know him years before, for what I found was that I was a stranger in my surroundings, and nothing more brought home to me the position of the Indian soldiers. They too were strangers, and far more of course than I could ever be, for even their language was a different one. In those days the New Armies had not begun to arrive; the old traditions still survived, and many of the _élite_ in the higher ranks still looked on any innovation, such as the introduction into their ranks of a bushman from Asia, as something which must perforce be tolerated but not encouraged. CHAPTER XIV