health, or anything that is
his, without constant supervision and nurse-maiding. And that he is
developing a strong bent towards the sentimental is evinced by the
choruses that he sings in the gloaming and his taste in picture
post-cards.

So far he may follow the professional model, but in other respects he
is quite _sui generis_. No sergeant in a Highland regiment of the line
would ever refer to a Cockney private, with all humility, as "a young
English gentleman"; neither would an ordinary soldier salute an
officer quite correctly with one hand while employing the other to
light his pipe. In "K(1)" we do these things and many others, which,
give us a _cachet_ of our own of which we are very rightly and
properly proud.

So we pin our faith to the man who has been at once our despair and
our joy since the month of August. He has character; he has grit;
and now that he is getting discipline as well, he is going to be an
everlasting credit to the cause which roused his manhood and the land
which gave him birth.

* * * * *

That is the tale of The First Hundred Thousand--Part One. Whether Part
Two will be forthcoming, and how much of it there will be, depends
upon two things--the course of history, and the present historian's
eye for cover.

BOOK TWO

LIVE ROUNDS

XIV

THE BACK OF THE FRONT

I

The last few days have afforded us an excellent opportunity of
studying the habits of that ubiquitous attendant of our movements, the
Staff Officer.

He is not always a real Staff Officer--the kind that wears a red
hatband. Sometimes he is an obvious "dug-out," with a pronounced
_embonpoint_ or a game leg. Sometimes he is a mere stripling, with a
rapidly increasing size in hats. Sometimes he is an ordinary human
being. But whoever he is, and whatever his age or rank, one thing is
certain. He has no mean: he is either very good or very bad. When he
is good he is very good indeed, and when he is bad he is horrid. He is
either Jekyll or Hyde.

Thrice blessed, then, is that unit which, upon its journey to the
seat of war, encounters only the good of the species. To transfer a
thousand men, with secrecy and despatch, from camp to train, from
train to ship, from ship to train, and from train to a spot near the
battle line, is a task which calls for the finest organisation and the
most skilful administration. Let it be said at once that our path to
our present address has bee