John Brown Confessions of a New Army Cadet

OL m 151 XVI, THE NEW ARMY OFFICER . . 161 XVII. STEADY OLD ADELA . m 173 XVIII. QENERAL POM-POM . m . m 186 XIX. THE BOYS. m m . 196 XX. A JOLLY RAG . . . . . 203 XXI. HISTORY AND ESPRIT DE UORPS . . . . 224 XXII. THE SPIRIT OF GOD . . a . . . 236 XXIII. WE DISCUSS THE SCHOOL . . 241 LIST OF BOOICS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. SNOOKER TAM. Chambers . . . . . . . . 216 net. DOROTHY, V. A. D., AND THE DOCTOR. Chambers . . 116 net. PRIVATE SPUD TAMSON. Blackwood . . , . . 21-net. SERGT. SPUD TAMSON, V. C. Hutchinson . . . . 61-net. DONALD AND HELEN. Hutchinson . . . . . . 61-net. THE MIXED DIVISION. Hutchinson. . . . . . 21-net. THE KANGAROO MARINES. Cassells . . . . .. C H A P T E R I. THE CADET SCHOOL. 0 doubt you have seen, in the highways N and byways, a lot of youths in khaki with white bands round their caps. These g boys are called cadets, and are usually men home from the front to train for commissions. In Sandhurst they are officially styled gentlemen cadets but apparently we are not supposed to be gentlemen-we re just cadets. Funny, isnt i t But that S the way of the army. Well, my name is John Brown-a very ordinary nameLand I m one of those fellows. Before-the war I evaded toil by beching a student, and spent a lot of time on ologies and osophies. Now I m learning to be a pukka officer, and the leader of sixty men to the cannons mouth. When I left my battalion for the cadet school I shed no tears. They were in the trenches, or, rather, in the mud. And it cost a pair of brand-new boots to get on to the road. However, I survived, and in due time landed at Windmoor. This is a blasted heath, swept by the winds, and isolated from picture-shows, barmaids, and revues hot a petticoat in sight, and at every corner a notice which amounts to England expects that every cadet this day will do his duty. This is no Utopia, I muttered, falling into the first hut by the way. Ye gods There was an old colonel, with eyes like a hawk and cheeks like dumplings and what do you think he was doing Cutting his corns. What the-why the-who the devil are you, sah John Brown, sir, I said meekly, for never in my life had I seen such a perfect relic of the Napoleonic wars. Get to blazes out of this, John Brown he roared, putting his fat feet on the floor and banging the door. I was again alone-on the blasted heath. The old gent inside was Colonel Eat-All, the commandant. Rumour says he devoured two dervishes at Omdurman. I stumbled on once more, and found the orderlyroom. This way, said Sergeant-Major Kneesup, introducing me to the adjutant, I clicked my heels in the style of a Guardsman, and saluted like a railway signal. Well said a blas6-looking genb with three pips, looking up at me from his papers. John Brown, sir. G Who sent you here The War Office. Umph I know nothing about you... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.