ll. They steal like
jackdaws. No man's kit or belongings are safe for an instant in their
neighbourhood unless under the owner's eye. To "lift" or "pinch"
anything from anybody is one of the Tommy's ordinary everyday interests,
a thing to be attended to and borne in mind along with his other daily
cares and duties. Nothing is more common than to see some distracted
private rushing about in search of a missing article, which he declares
in anguished tones he has only just that instant laid down; his own
agitation a marked contrast to the elaborate indifference of every one
near him.

As to language, I used to think the language of a merchant ship's
fo'c'sle pretty bad, but the language of Tommies in point of profanity
quite equals, and in point of obscenity beats it hollow. This department
is a speciality of his. Of course, after a little it becomes simply
meaningless, and you scarcely notice it, but the haphazard and
indiscriminate way, quite regardless of any meaning, in which he
interlards ordinary sentences with beastly words, at first revolts you.
Lying he treats with the same large charity. To lie like a trooper is
quite a sound metaphor. He invents all sorts of elaborate lies for the
mere pleasure of inventing them. He will come back from headquarters and
tell you of the last despatch which he has just read with his own eyes
(a victory or disaster, according to his mood at the moment), with all
kinds of realistic details added; and you go and see for yourself, and
there is no despatch at all. Looting, again, is one of his perpetual
joys. Not merely looting for profit, though I have seen Tommies take
possession of the most ridiculous things--perambulators and sewing
machines, with a vague idea of carting them home somehow--but looting
for the sheer fun of the destruction; tearing down pictures to kick
their boots through them; smashing furniture for the fun of smashing it,
and may be dressing up in women's clothes to finish with, and dancing
among the ruins they have made. To pick up a good heavy stone and send
it _wallop_ right through the works of a piano is a great moment for
Tommy. I daresay there is something in it, you know.

These are roughish traits, are they not? Sit down by this group of
Tommies by the water-hole in the mid-day halt. They are filthy dirty,
poor fellows. Their thin, khaki, sweat-stained uniforms are rotting on
them. They have taken off tunics and shirts, and among the rags of
flannel are