i;8
THE YPRES TIMES
I rose; my rest had been like a broken melody. Still, in a few nights my weight
had levelled the mattress a bit and comfort was restored.
For a few days I roamed the camp in civvies," wondering whether my
attesting papers had arrived at Nigg, unconscious of the fact that a little storm
had burst at my non-appearance. Meanwhile I had had my first meals with the
troops. There was a pudding someone said was sago, but I couldn't touch it. At
the festive board I felt a snob and a prig; I moved about lonely; from every doorway
language assailed my ears the like of which I had certainly never been accustomed
to. Really, I thought, getting broken into this mode of existence is an operation
that justifies an anaesthetic. One afternoon I looked into the orderly-room to tell
them they would be waiting for me at Niggand what about it? The presiding
sergeant's reply, like Gaul of old, was divided into three parts. Firstly, I had no
right to enter an orderly-room without permissionsecondly (though this was then
perhaps a secret) I would probably be retained in the Camerons; and, thirdlyas
for the papers I was concerned about, that would be all right. Well, it wasn't all
right, but I suppose this dislocation of the routine of things meant nothing to the
Camerons. And when one thinks of it now, a brief note to Nigg in the following
vein would have obviated quite a molehill of trouble.
Recruit JMwhose attesting papers are, we understand, at your
depot, retained at Invergordon, please."
All this, however, meant something to the Seaforths, for on my non-arrival at
Nigg they communicated with Edinburgh, and the Military Police were all over the
Scottish capital in search of me. Letters from home alarmed me about the way
sergeants and policemen had stood "on the mat" demanding to know my hiding
place. Letters from me were produced as evidence of my loyalty and patriotism,
but these had small effect on the non-commissioned mind. It was certain I had
deserted. I was a born deserter, and if only they could catch me. If scripture may
be parodied, there is more joy in the sergeant's breast over one deserter captured
than over the ninety and nine new recruits who would never dream of doing such
a thing. Of course in a few days the whole affair was ironed out, but the public
little suspected how much cribbing of men was going on by one battalion or
another
In a kind of paradox, then, I think I can say 1 joined up as a deserter.
In fact, I can say more. Will it be believed that on the day of my demobiliza
tion a like stigma was standing against my name, falsely, in the Army records
Hostilities had ceased, and our unit was proudly marching through Belgium to the
occupation of Germany. At home they had just been reading in one of my letters
that we had skirted the field of Waterloo on our march, when there came a
peremptory ring at the door bell.
Another sergeant!
Is there a JMbelonging to this house who joined the Army?"
Yes, certainly."
Well, he's deserted, and I want to know where he's got to."
Oh, we can tell you where he's got to and the Waterloo letter was
produced.
At first the gentleman at the door was disposed to discount this proof of my
continued devotion to King and country, and it was only after much altercation that
he retreated, seemingly mollified. Meantime, however, as the Army allowance had
been stopped, people in high places had been written to, and a special report was
demanded at headquarters. The explanation of the mistake this time was that it
was a man of the same name and, strange to say, the same number, who was the
real culprit. So far so good. The Army allowance was resumed, and you would
have thought that after all the commotion their records would have been corrected.
