ASS FIGHTING MAN" 73

IX OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN 82

X BROTHERS IN ARMS 91

XI ATKINS AND THE ENEMY 100

XII THE WAR IN THE AIR 112

XIII TOMMY AND HIS RATIONS 121

TOMMY ATKINS AT WAR

I

OFF TO THE FRONT

"It is my Royal and Imperial Command that you concentrate your energies,
for the immediate present upon one single purpose, and that is that you
address all your skill and all the valor of my soldiers to exterminate
first the treacherous English and walk over General French's
contemptible little army."[A]

While this Imperial Command of the Kaiser was being written, Atkins,
innocent of the fate decreed for him, was well on his way to the front,
full of exuberant spirits, and singing as he went, "It's a long way to
Tipperary." In his pocket was the message from Lord Kitchener which
Atkins believes to be the whole duty of a soldier: "Be brave, be kind,
courteous (but nothing more than courteous) to women, and look upon
looting as a disgraceful act."

Troopship after troopship had crossed the Channel carrying Sir John
French's little army to the Continent, while the boasted German fleet,
impotent to menace the safety of our transports, lay helpless--bottled
up, to quote Mr. Asquith's phrase, "in the inglorious seclusion of their
own ports."

Never before had a British Expeditionary Force been organized, equipped
and despatched so swiftly for service in the field. The energies of the
War Office had long been applied to the creation of a small but highly
efficient striking force ready for instant action. And now the time for
action had come. The force was ready. From the harbors the troopships
steamed away, their decks crowded with cheery soldiers, their flags
waving a proud challenge to any disputant of Britain's command of the
sea.

The expedition was carried out as if by magic. For a few brief days the
nation endured with patience its self-imposed silence. In the newspapers
were no brave columns of farewell scenes, no exultant send-off
greetings, no stirring pictures of troopships passing out into the
night. All was silence, the silence of a nation preparing for the "iron
sacrifice," as Kipling calls it, of a devastating war. Then suddenly the
silence was broken, and across the Channel was flashed the news that the
troops had been safely landed, and were only waiting orders to throw
themselves upon the