“Then the Colonel sends for ‘im.
“‘Ah, Thompson,’ sez the Colonel, ‘eartily, ‘I understand you’re goin’ away on the reserve?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ sez Thompson.
“‘Do you think that’s wise?’ sez the Colonel.
“Ho, yes,’ sez the clever chap, oockily.
“‘It’s very ‘ard in civilian life just now,’ sez the Colonel. ‘What are you goin’ to do for a livin’?’
“‘Anything,’ sez the clever Chap, prompt.
“‘Humph!’ sez the Colonel; ‘that means “nothing” — are you sure you won’t sign on for another five years?’
“‘I’ll watch it,’ sez the clever chap.
BACK TO CIVIL LIFE
“So he goes away in a pair of loud check trousis an’ a Trilby ‘at, an’ a tuppenny cigar, to show ‘is independence.
“‘E gits up to London, goes ‘ome to see his people, ‘as a couple of drinks, goes to a music-’all, an’ spends a sovereign as free as you please. For a week ‘e’s as ‘appy as a king. Gets up what time ‘e likes, an’ don’t shave unless ‘e wants to.
“‘E’s got no sergeants an’ corporals to bully ‘im, no officers to salute, no fatigues, an’ no drills, an’ when ‘e goes out in town ‘e needn’t look clean unless ‘e feels inclined.
“After a week of riotous livin’, most of ‘is money bein’ spent, ‘e pops off to look for work in ‘is loud check trousis with the beer stains, an’ ‘is Trilby ‘at a bit out of shape.
“‘Want a job, do you?’ sez the ohap where ‘e goes to. ‘What can you do?’
“‘Anything,’ sez the clever chap.
“‘Outside!’ sez the chap at the works. ‘We don’t want “anything” fellers here.’
“‘What’s your last job?’ sez another feller ‘e applies to.
“‘Army,’ sez the clever chap, producin’ ‘is discharge.
“‘What can you do?’ sez the foreman.
“The clever chap’s learnt a lesson, so ‘e’s a bit cautious.
“‘Messenger,’ ‘e sez.
“‘We’ve got boys for messengers, sez the foreman.
“‘Timekeeper,’ sez the clever chap.
“‘We’ve got a clock for that.’
“‘Caretaker,’ sez the clever chap.
“‘We don’t want no sleepin’ partners,’ sez the foreman.
“‘Well,’ sez the clever chap, desperate, ‘hall porter.’
“‘We ain’t got a hall,’ sez the foreman.
“What some of these clever jossers want,” said Smithy, scornfully, “is a job where there ain’t any work to do — jobs you can lay down an’ watch; old men’s jobs, boys’ jobs, jobs that don’t blister a chap’s ‘ands, an’ that’s why all the bloomin’ Soldiers’ ‘Elp Associations in the world won’t do any good, because there ain’t enough of them jobs to go round.
FREEDOM
“The other day Spud Murphy gave it out that as soon as his seven years was in he was going to leave. He was” talkin’ to me an’ Nobby about it.
“‘No more bloomin’ soldierin’ for me, thank you,’ sez Spud.
“‘Don’t thank me,’ sez Nobby.
“‘I’m goin’ to be a free man.’ sez Spud, ‘like I was before I enlisted.’
“‘Ah!’ sez Nobby, lookin’ up to the sky with a smile.
“‘When you chaps are bein’ turned out of bed at six in the mornin’ I shall be gettin’ my eye down, nice an’ snug.’
“‘Ah!’ sez Nobby.
“‘No more church parades, no more kit inspections, no more bloomin’ guards,’ sez Spud.
“‘No,’ sez Nobby, getting up — we was eittin’ oh the grass in the cricket field—’No,’ sez Nobby, sadly. ‘You’ll be a free man, free to get your livin’ or starve. There won’t be no kit inspection, ‘cos you’ll ‘ave no kit to show, nor no guards either, becos’ nobody would trust you to guard a threepenny-bit. Pore feller,’ sez Nobby, shaking his ‘ead an’ lookin’ at Spud, ‘pore old Spud.’
“Spud ain’t goin’ away,” Smithy went on to explain, “because Nobby put it about in barracks that ‘e was only leavin’ the army because the doctor wouldn’t pass him for an extension of service, an’ just to show Nobby was a liar Spud went an’ took on for another five years.
“If you understand,” said Smithy earnestly, “it ain’t the chap’s fault that ‘e can’t get a job when ‘e leaves the service, it’s the Army’s. A chap that ‘as to leave civil life because ‘e ain’t got a trade in his ‘ands can’t expect to go back to civil life an’ find a job sittin’ up on its ‘ind-legs an’ beggin’”
“WHAT CAN YOU DO?”
“The Army don’t teach ‘im nothin’,” continued Smithy, seriously, “except to turn about by numbers, an’ not to talk back to his superiors, an that’s not much use for civil life.
“When ‘is time’s up ‘e goes out an’ asks Civil Life to find him work.
“‘What can you do?’ sez Civil Life.
“‘Stand erect, with me feet at at an angle of forty-five degrees, ‘ead up, shoulders back, an’ me ‘ands ‘ung loosely by me side, thumbs in rear of the seams of me trousis,’ sez the Army.
“‘Very sorry,’ sez Civil Life, but we ‘aven’t got a job like that. Can you do anything else?’
“‘Yes,’ sez the Army, ‘I can challenge all persons approachin’ my post between tattoo an’ reveille, turn out the guard to generals an’ all armed parties, an’ take charge of all Government property in view of me post,’ sez the Army.
“‘ Can you fix a ‘lectric bell?’ sez Civil Life.
“‘No,’ sez the Army.
“‘Can you drive a traction engine?’ sez Civil Life.
“‘No,’ sez the Army.
“‘Can you make a box, or set a line of type, or draw a plan, or make out a specification, or do anything that the crowd round the docks can’t do?’
“‘No.’ sez the Army.
“‘Well,’ sez Civil Life, regretful, ‘you’d better join the mob at the docks — an’ you’ll find the Salvation Army shelter down the second turnin’ on the right.’
“Seven years!” said; Smithy, reflectively, “an’ about two years of that spare time. A chap could learn anything in seven years — if there was anybody to teach ‘im.
“‘Teach me a trade,’ sez the Army.
“‘Good gracious!’ sez the Country, ‘orrified. ‘I couldn’t think of such a thing — don’t I clothe you, an’ feed you, an’ pay you?’
“‘Yes,’