Still, whatever our ultimate destination and fate may be, the fact
remains that we are now as fit for active service as seven months'
relentless schooling, under make-believe conditions, can render us. We
shall have to begin all over again, we know, when we find ourselves up
against the real thing, but we have at least been thoroughly grounded
in the rudiments of our profession. We can endure hail, rain, snow,
and vapour; we can march and dig with the best; we have mastered the
first principles of musketry; we can advance in an extended line
without losing touch or bunching; and we have ceased to regard an
order as an insult, or obedience as a degradation. We eat when we can
and what we get, and we sleep wherever we happen to find ourselves
lying. That is something. But there are certain military
accomplishments which can only be taught us by the enemy. Taking
cover, for instance. When the thin, intermittent crackle of blank
ammunition shall have been replaced by the whistle of real bullets, we
shall get over our predilection for sitting up and taking notice. The
conversation of our neighbour, or the deplorable antics of B Company
on the neighbouring skyline, will interest us not at all. We shall get
down, and stay down.
We shall also be relieved of the necessity of respecting the property
of those exalted persons who surround their estates with barbed wire,
and put up notices, even now, warning off troops.
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