Frederick Brereton - A Gallant Grenadier - A Tale of the Crimean War

“Ah, just the kind of man we want!” exclaimed the officer. “And both of you wish to enlist in the Grenadier Guards? Very well; send them across to the doctor’s.”

“Right turn! Quick march!” The words almost made Tony jump out of his skin, but he and Phil obeyed them promptly, and next moment were breathing a trifle more freely in the open air. A corporal was now sent for, and he conducted them across to another room. Here they were told to strip, and a few minutes later were ushered into an inner room, in which were the regimental doctor and a sergeant who sat with a book before him. Phil and Tony were sounded and thumped all over, and then told to hop up and down the floor. They swung their arms round their heads till they were red in the face, and swung their legs to and fro to show that they had free movement of their joints. Then their eyes were tested, and these and their hearing having proved satisfactory, they were declared fit for the army, and were told to dress themselves.

“What’s coming next, Phil?” whispered Tony, with a chuckle. “We’ve been interviewed – or whatever they calls it – by the officer, and now we’ve been punched all over, like folks used to do with that prize mare the boss in the old show was so fond of.”

“Wait and see,” Phil answered, for he too was wondering what their next experience would be.

They had not long to wait. The same corporal who had conducted them before took them round to the back of the building, up a steep flight of stairs, and showed them into the quarter-master’s stores. And here they spent almost an hour, during which time a complete set of uniform, with the exception of a bearskin, was served out to each of them. Their civilian clothing was then taken from them and safely packed away, and feeling remarkably queer, and uncertain how to carry the smart little cane which had been given them, they were marched away to the barrack-room, heads in air and chests well to the front, as every new recruit does when in uniform for the first time, and trying to look as though they were well used to their new circumstances, whereas every man they passed grinned, and, nudging his comrade, chuckled: “New uns! Look at the chest that redheaded cove’s got on ’im, and don’t the other hold his nose up?” or something equally flattering.

But Phil and Tony were blissfully ignorant of these facetious remarks, and in a few minutes had reached the room in which they were to sleep, and had taken possession of their cots.

The following day they were once more inspected by the adjutant, and under his eye the regimental tailor chalk-marked their clothing where alterations were to be made.

In due time both settled down to their new duties and began to learn their drill on the parade-ground. A few days, and they lost all the slovenliness of recruits and held themselves erect. Soon they were as smart as any, and an old friend of Phil’s, looking at him now, with his forage-cap jauntily set over his ear, his tight-fitting tunic and belt, and the swagger-cane beneath his arm, would scarcely have recognised him, so much had he altered. But had he only asked Tony, he would quickly have learnt the truth.

“Yus, that’s Phil Western, you bet!” the latter would exclaim; “and I tell yer what it is, that young chap is downright the smartest lad in this lot of recruits, and that’s saying a deal, as you’ll agree if you’ll only take a look at ’em.”

So thought Joe Sweetman too, when he visited London on one occasion and looked his young friend up. “He’s every inch a soldier,” he exclaimed admiringly to Mr Western, on his return to Riddington. “As smart and good-looking a fellow as ever I saw; and that lad means to get on and do well. Mark my words! That’s what he means, and he’ll do it too, or I’m a donkey.”

Whether or not honest kind-hearted old Joe Sweetman was a donkey was yet to be proved, as the reader will ascertain for himself if he will only have patience to bear with the narrative till the end; but certain it was that Joe and Tony were not alone in thinking well of Phil.

“He’s a likely youngster,” the adjutant had more than once remarked to the colonel, “and he’ll make an excellent N.C.O. once he has sufficient service. He’s well educated, and always well-behaved, and with your permission, Colonel, I will give him a trial in the orderly-room.”

“Do just as you like,” the latter had answered. “I leave these matters in your hands; only, if you make him a clerk, do not take him altogether from his other duties. He might lose his smartness in the ranks, and what I want is not alone N.C.O.’s who can write well, but men who can be an example to the others, and, above all, have authority over them. Keep your eye on the lad, and let me know how he gets on.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll see how he performs his duties, and mention the subject to you another day.”

Phil had thus already attracted attention, and a hint to that effect, passed from the sergeant-major through the colour-sergeant to himself, encouraged him to persevere in his drill. Not long afterwards the battalion received orders to proceed to Windsor, and there relieve another of the Guards regiments. By that time Phil and Tony had completed their recruits’ course, and had taken their places in a company of the regiment.

“We couldn’t ha’ been luckier, Phil, could we?” remarked Tony, with a grunt of satisfaction, as the two stood on the parade-ground waiting for the bugle to sound the “Fall in”. “I said weeks back as I’d stick to yer through thick and thin, and here we are, yer see, both in the same company, and always falling-in alongside of one another. But it won’t last long, mate, and don’t you go for to try and make believe it will. I ain’t so blind as I can’t see that before long you’ll wear a corporal’s stripes. All the fellers says the same, and it’s bound to be true.”

“I must say I hope it will,” Phil replied cheerfully. “It is my aim and object to become an N.C.O. But we needn’t think of parting, Tony. We’ll still be in the same company, and if we don’t stand side by side, we shall be close together in the barrack-room. Besides, you may get the stripes sooner than I.”

“Me, mate? That’s a good un! There ain’t a chance.”

“You never know, Tony; and although it seems far away now, it will come, especially if you always keep out of trouble, as you have done up to this.”

“Yus, it might,” Tony agreed, after a long pause. “Every chap gets a chance, they say, and I’ll see if I can’t win them stripes just to show yer, Phil, that I’ve stuck to me oath. And it won’t be getting into trouble as will lose ’em for me. I used to be a regular wild un, but I’ve given that up months ago; besides, I heerd Sergeant Irving a-saying only a few days ago that the chap as was quiet was bound to get on. ‘What’s the good of larking about as some of these idjuts do?’ he says. ‘Them as drinks is certain to get into trouble, and come before the colonel, and what good does it do ’em? They loses their chance of promotion, and they ruins their health. Besides that, they goes down the quickest when the troops is on active service.’”

“Yes, that is very true, I believe,” Phil answered. “But to return to the stripes. You must win them, Tony, and if only you stick to your work I am sure you will succeed. Then in the course of time you’ll be made sergeant, and later perhaps become sergeant-major. What a fine thing it would be! You would have a good pension to look forward to, and one of these days could end your service while still a young man, but with the comfortable feeling that you were provided for for life.”

“Hum! that’s flying away to the skies, mate,” Tony chuckled, “but there’s plenty of time to see, and – look up! there goes the bugle.”