WAR STORIES.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 65, 17 March 1915, Page 10

WAR STORIES.

IN WINTER QUARTERS. A STORY OF THE PEXIXSULA WAX (By TALBOT MUXIJY.L 11 . CHAPTER V When officers. gililcT and" plumed - and glittering, led men to' close "quarters with a brigaded enemy, the cannafties among them were out ot all proportion to their number: regimental reputations had to be looked after, and th.it could be onlydone as a rule by bravery of the most self-sacrifuinu -ort. ' So" the Fiftieth were vein- short of officers. Sergeant- Major Hanley iiuite frequently commandeiCa whole compjinv, as well aa being office®f-the-d.iy two days out of six. lie had practically no chance of winning a commission, hut he did win tbe confidence of his commanding officer, and he was ?alle-,i Into private consultation in the Colonel's tent more often than anr other oilicer in the regiment. In return for the confidence he gave his Colonel a dog-like devotion which was thought exaggerated, even in those undemocratic days. ran., "ugly "though he ■was. and brusque, and even ill-mannered to his superiors on occasion, the Colonel learnt to prefer his friendship to that of almost any other man. The due formalities as between commissioned and non-commissioned ranks were adhered to strictly, but. only half hidden by discipline, there was a friendship between them that not even the exigencies of the service could destroy. The Colonel had two olisessions —the regiment and his only son—in that order; and Sergeant-Major Hanley had two ■—the regiment and his regard for Colonel Whitehouse. Both men put the regiment first, as their duty was. A regiment is not a conserves of men ■who have been drilled: it is the emtwdiinent of an ideal, and men have the (honour to belong to it. It is nearly as deathless as a religion, and is almost as independent of individuals, lien join it, and are taught the spirit of it. and are drilled until they fit into its mould, and then they leave it as time-expired or die in action, but the regiment goes on for fiver. So, although all is fair in love and War, and especially when love and war are mingled; and although love, taken iby itself, is the most powerful element there is, there is one case at least where that does not apply, for when love runs counter to the interests of a regiment, the regiment wins. It was because Colonel Whitehouse and his sergeant-major understood that they .TveTe such perfectly friends; both of them had one ideal, which they held higher than the others friendship. The Colonel made Hanley work almost beyond the limit of his endurance, and Hanley did the work, and admired his officer. So the regiment prospered. When the sergeant-major returned tc camp—plastered with mud from feet to •waist, wet to the skin, chilled and ntterlj tired out —he thought it no hardship.tc he sent for immediately: he' made twe privates clean the mud off him as well a= they could in the space of thirty seconds —for his affection—for Colonel Whitehouse was based onlhis respect for hitr —and then hurried to the Colonel's tent "Come in." said the Colonel, "and closf the flap behind yon. You needn't stanc —sit down. There's wine in that flask: help yourself." "Thank yon. sir." said Hanley. fillin: himself a tumblerful and rising to hi: feet again. "My res Sects, sir!" Z The Colonel ncddfflt and took a closed ■written sheet of paper from the table be side him. holding it toward the lamplight and Hanley sat down again. — "Fve a letter here from Sir Arthur— the mutter's serious-" Hanley's blue eyes took on an ever keener look, and he sat forward in his chair a little, as though anxious not tc miss a word of wha£,was coming. Ther£ •were not many sergenut^major^s'.in the Army who were favoured with a digest of Sir Arthurs private letters, and he knew tC"" " " : T -" - - "We're likely to break camp to resumi the campaign in two weeks from now. The French know that, of course, and they're naturally getting ready for it as eagerly as we are. Everything they can find out about our plans and resources in the meantime is going; to be'of service to them, and Sir-Arthur-is very-anxious that no informatTon of any-land should filter through. "For instance, there's a convoy expected at any moment now with reinforcements and supplies: he wants that information kept from the French. All the hucksters and olio wers-have been-forbidden to go backward and forward between the armies, an<f-it's easy enough "lo control that, now that a regular market-place has been established, %rat news seems to be leaking through. "Our spies in the French camp report Shat one or two of Sir Arthur's plans are jnatters of common talk among the French officers^and"even among the men: and Sir Arfhnr,"=een-s"trl think that as we are the nearest regiment to the French we-are responsible: d'you think the men dd any talking between the vedettes?" ?■ "Why, yes. they talk, sir." "I mean when the French -soldiers come pver- and--lsit by jonr camp-fires, d'you isuppdse that r any inform&tion.. changes Sands ?"*. -"' "I'd take mv oath it doesn't! The *nen get on with the French well enough, and they'g'et fun'oiit to r Tinde r: stand 'em,* but-ifa"Fr-jichy ira* to ask; impertinent-questions he'd-get his headhroke! The wit the men look at'it. you never know when you'll be wounded and takeiCnrisdneriias.d then n""friend in the,, enemy's army i= a good thing to have; and the Frerebj°s. especially the older ones, seem to hr "pfetty. good fellows; and iweTike their wific'when they've got any. and they like our rnai. But it ends there. sir: there's r.or a man in the regiment *ud tell "em nr.y''.h : rc." "I believe yoit'-r right, Hanley." "I know I'm ~i?ht. I- know every man of em rr.<' .what, he's good for at a pinch. Besides, what do the men know that 'ud be any use to the French?" "That's true; too. Bat it*s no use taking that line-with Sir Arthur; he has satisSed himself thai secret-information the .Jiench.iaiid_that it's reaching them from somewhere in our vicinity. Xo amount of argument will do anj- good: we've either got to stop the leak or else take the "blame for it. I don't care for blame that's undeserved, so AVe_niust do the other thing." "Certainly, sir." "Well, now, I suppose you're very fired?" - - "I can manage, sir." "Good. Take some more of that ■wine; it'll help you pull yourself together. I •want you to get-'your sleep ia the .daytime, as much.as you can from now on. 11l hand over as many of your duties as I can to one -of the sergeants. Go the wrands of the vedettes aa often as you lean manage it, and keep on visiting them at frequent intervals. Keep both eyes Unpen, and watch the French outposts particularly carefrdlyj- and if you see artytone -who eaiater your suspicion, contriTe jto hide yourself near him if you.can, and Watch. '- -'-~ ■ -;•.-•-■ you needn't rwort to-ms i jSroranow-.on.unless you ccc at.-It you

.someone else perform your duties until jyou do come. Devote youTself entirely —but especially at night—to what I've told you, and begin now." . . | "Very good, sir." said the sergeantI major rising. "Oh! and there's one other thing; | don't be too ready with that sword of yours. In a case like this it's better to •make prisoners if possible, and then make a a example of them in front of the whole army. I'd like to make Sir Arthur acknowledge the blame is not ours." "Yes, sir. Is -that a definite order about making prisoners? "Xo. You have discretion." "Thank you. sir." And Sergeant-ilajor Hanley saluted and went out backwards, and closed the Unp of the tent behind him. .?." ' . 111= Where the spur of a low hill jutted out on to the plain the French and English camp-fires were placed so near each other that the men of either side could | exchange jokes and good-natured repar- | tee without crossing the intervening space. It was not at all unusual to see French and English seated round one camp-fire together, fraternising and exchanging drinks; even officers of either side exchanged greetings now and then, and discussed what had already happened. Only what was going to happen was taboo, and neither side even fenced around the outside edge of that subject. "Au revoir" at parting meant one thing only—"Wait till the spring, and see!" The men admired each other, but the war was war to the death! Xot a gunshot from the spur of the hill, and half way between the closest placed French and English camp-fires, was a clump of bushes that had been left standing there by both sides because of the winter truce: neither side cared to rut it down for fuel for fear of infring- i ing on the claims of the other side and | starting friction before the time came. It was about fifty yards long by as I many broad, and near it a man waited. He had waited in the shadow of it for fourteen nights, squatted on a fallen log, md peering out between the upturned collar of his black Spanish cloak with ;yes that never seemed to blink. Every low and then he was summoned by the French vedette to tend the fire, and each time when he had finished he returned to his log again and waited, gazing through the darkness always towards the British lines. Tbe night following Colonel Whiteiiouse's conversation with Sergeant-Major Hanley was a black one. The rain came down in torrents and beat upon the camp-fires until the wet wood sent up little else than smoke, and that hung around and overhead like a pall. The men of the vedettes huddled closely round the glowing embers and drew what consolation they could from the very little warmth they could obtain there, md for the first time for weeks there was no interchange of courtesies between the armies. The men were too sodden and dispirited to do anything out stare into the spluttering coals" and grumble. The space between the armies was deserted, save for the Spaniard; he sat there as usual on his log and waited. Suddenly a British sentry challenged: "Halt! "Who comes there?" His voice rang out sharply through tbe night, and was followed by a click as he brought his piece to the "charge." "Bounds!" said a voice. '"What rounds?" "Visiting rounds!" . "Advance, visiting rounds, and show yourself!" ~-ZL "ZL An Tjfficer, cloaked to the ears, and unrecognisable, rode out of the murk and approached the sentry. The sentry peered forward to examine hisCuniform, md came to the "shoulder." "Guard! Turn out!" he roared, and the men left their camp-fire at the double, md lined up on the left of him. "Present —arms!" ordered the corporal, and for six seconds the men stood irith their pieces held in front of them stt the salute. "Shoulder —arms!" "Give up your orders'." said the officer. "To challenge all-comers —to stop all rommunieation with the French lines— to fire on anyone who refuses to halt when ordered —to give the alarm at the first sign of movement on the part of the enemy—and to turn out the guard to all officers," said the sentry. "All right," said the officer. "Guard— dismiss!" The men ran back to their camp-fire in a hurry, but the corporal still stayed by the sentry in case the officer had any further orders. "It's a bad night, corpora I. Anything out of the usual happened?" "Xo, sir." " Ton my soul, I can't see the next camp-fire from here even; it's the worst night we've had! Whereabouts is the next vedette?" "Four hundred yards, sir, beyond that clump of bushes, and a little to the left. There, sir—you can see the glow of it every now and then." "I" see. Gad! What a night for a surprise! It's a good thing our friends the French know how to.keep a bargain! Which is their nearest vedette?" "There, sir." The corporal pointed straight in front of him. "I suppose this is the point where the two armies lie closest together?" "Yes, sir." "Ah! Well, good-night, corporal." "Good-night, sir." The corporal saluted and ran back to his camp-fire; and the officer rode on —towards the. clump of bushes. He was out of sight and in the shadow of them before the corporal had snuggled down again between the men. The Spaniardwho was sitting on the log stayed motionless —almost invisible against the black background of the bushes —and the officer was nearly up to him before he could make out whether or not he was a man. "Spero!" he said then cautiously, and the Spaniard rose to his feet with lm hand outstretched. The officer groped with one hand inside his cloak -and produced a package— a bulky little package wrapped in oiled silk. The Spaniard came one step nearer to take it, and" a man leapt from the clump of bushes and a sword licked out of the darkness like a lightning-flash, and the Spaniard fell forward —his head all but severed from his shoulders! There had been hardly a sound as yet. The home reared in fright, but the turf was good in that place, and the rain had softened it; the stamping of his hoofs made hardly any sound, and a strong hand that seized his rein soon steadied him. The officer's right hand went to his sward as if by instinct, but the sword was miming. Whoever the new arrival was, he was quick and had his plans made; he had seized bridle and sword at the same time, and the scabbard with the sword in it lay on the ground. ''Curse you! Let go of mc!" hissed the officer, afraid to raise his voice for fear of the vedette. He struck out with his fast and spurred his horse, -hut the same right ihaad that had disarmed him now sewed ilia instep; the horse plunged forward in answer to the spry, and swung round on the tightening rein—and the offioer pitched on to the-ground on his , T^^*? f ?» >c had retehfd

the ground his. assailant was- on top of him, pinning him by the throat, and peering- into his fact trying to recognise him. "So it's you, is it?" he panted, driving one knee into his stomach to quiet his struggling, and reaching with his right hand for his sword.' - "Cur?? you! Le—let —g-g-go o' mc!" ''One moment, sir!" It was not easy to draw his sword.. with li.'s right hand and hold dowrn ■ a, struggling officer with his left, but he gave an extra thrust downward with his knee, and as his captive writh-ed under the pressure he was able to twist a little sideways and release it. •'Prisoner's what you ought to be— drumhead court-martlalled —stripped o' your decorations —marched in front of ■the drums—an' shot! But I'll save you that for your father's sake!" And as lie said it lie- placed -his swordpoint against the officer's throat and drove it home till the point stuck out on the far side and pinned his victim to the ground. Tli-?re had still been scarcely a sound. The h'Oi'Se had cantered off a I.'ttle way, but he had stopped before he had gone far, and was nibbling 'the twigs now on the far side of the clump of bushes. Sergeant-Major Hanley stood up anil looked at the honse, and then at his handiwork, and then at the horse again. Then he drew his sword out of the wound and wiped it carefully, driving it down deep imto the ground and -removing all trace of blood from it. Xext he stooped and felt under the. Spaniard's cloak. "Thought ai> much!" 1;? muttered, drawing out a long, knife. He studied the wound carefully for a moment, and then the knife-blade. "Bah!" he muttered, "they'll never notice the difference." Then he bent down and drove the knife into the wound, and left it there. Next he buckled on the officer's sword again, and drew the 6word out of the scabbard and wetted it thoroughly with the Spaniard's blood. He paused then for a monreat and thought again. The officer was lying face upwards, contorted by his death struggle, and the Spaniard lay ten paces from him, in a heap, with his head nearly doubled underneath his chest. Hanley looked from one to the other, and then dragged the officer to .within two paces of the Spaniard, and turned him over on his face and left him, with his right hand stretched out in front of him, and his sword laid out on the ground between him and the Spaniard. Then he stooped and picked up the oiled-silk package and placed it in his pocket. He took orre more look at the scene of the struggle, then walked once over the ground carefully to make sure that he had overlooked nothing, and started out to catch tire horse. Fifteen minutes later he rode up to Colonel Whitehouee's tent and dismounted, and asked to be admitted. "I've nen-g, sir!" he said when he had closed the tent flap behind him and saluted. "Well, Hanley—out with it!" '"I captured this, sir." He- held out the package, and the Colonel took if aad tore it open. '"Pon my soul!" he exclaimed excitedly; "that'i? good work, Hanley! Look at this!' A map of the British lines, showing stations and strength of regiments, details of reinforcements, full list of magazines, giving quantities of powder and ammunition stored in each, number of sicti-in hospital, extent andequipment of convoys expected'shortly— why, man alive 1 And look here!—de- . tails of Sir Arthur Wellesley's plan for the prosecution of the coming campaign!

Who copied that, I wonder? And there's more here; look! Hanley. this is the most fortunate. thing that ever happened! Tell mc how you came by it." •- "I hid, sir, as you suggested, and I-saw a Spaniard sneaking between tie vedettes. Ha saw mc and bolted 'back towards the British lines, but a mounted officer who was on, a round of inspection caught sight of-him and gave, chase. He tried to &>lt then', for the French lines, but the 6rtic?r overtook him, " and they killed each other before I could get near enough to interfere. 'I searched the Spaniard and found this package in a pocket under his cloak." "You did well. Who was the officer?" "One of Sir Arthur's staff, sir." | "Who was he?" 1 There was nothing in the . words, but the Colonel had detected something inIdirect underlying Hanlcy's answer. I "Who ivhi, he?" he repeated. "Your son, sir!". I The Colonel's eyes narrowed, and hfo 'jaw dropped for a second. He looked as .though Hanley bad struck him unex|pectedly. I "God! sergeant-major!'' he exclaimed after a moment. "This i« an awful blow!" " "He died doing good work, sir," said Hanley. The two men >;tood and faced each other in silence for about a minute, the Colonel's face going gradually greyer as he fought down the emotion that was all but choking him. "Where's his body?" he asked after a minute. "T called the nearest vedette, sir; they're taking care of it." "Did he " "Yes. he died game, sir." "Very well, sergeant-major. I'd like to be alone for a few minutes—you may go-" And Sergeant-Major Hanley stalked out of the tent, hollow-backed and straight-shouldered, awl turned in in his own ramahackte quart am. lie 6lcpt like a child till mornins. for he had no neglected duty on his conscience; be had acted rightly by the regiment, and had saved the honour of the only man he loved. (The End.)