BATMEN I HAVE HAD

Evening Star, Issue 21935, 23 January 1935, Page 2

BATMEN I HAVE HAD

HOW THEY DIFFER For most officers the horrors of war would have been increased enormously hut for the services of their batmen. There are, however, batmen and batmen. The careless, lazy, inefficient batman is a jewel (writes Captain M'Lean, in the Melbourne ‘ Argus ’). His price, like that of the perfect wife in the Scriptures, is far above rubies. I have had experience of both, and also of a third kind, who was about halfway between the two. One of the best batmen I had was a Cockney. When I reported at the orderly room of a new camp the ser-* geant-major allotted me a billet and two blankets. “If you go along to your billet,” he said, “ I will send a batman to you.” With the exception of a stretcher, I found that my billet was devoid of furniture. Presently my new batman appeared. Spare and undersized, with two front teeth missing and his sleeve grid-ironed with wound stripes, he had evidently done his bit in the line. He announced himself as- Richardson. Glancing round, he remarked that I would, need at least a mattress, a table, and a,wash basin. When I inquired where such things were to be had he replied, “ Better leave it to me, sir. You go aht an’ have a look round, and come back in a newer.” When I returned at the end of the hour my billet was transformed. There were not only a mattress, but also two extra blankets, a table, a chair, a wash stand, basin, and jug, and a strip of worn carpet on the floor. I was experienced enough not to inquire too closely where he had obtained such an outfit. My chair, I discovered later, belonged to the Y.M.C.A. Whence the remainder came I never knew. It was clear that Richardson possessed the two essential qualities of a good batman. He knew what made for comfort, and he. was an enterprising and successful forager. “ These must have cost money,” I remarked. “ Not much,” he responded. “ Ten francs will cover it.” THE WRONG WAY. Never was I better cared for than while Richardson was with me. His successor was of another and less agreeable type. In private life he was a manufacturing jeweller from Birmingham. Enlisting as a private, he soon suffered wounds which unfitted him for the line. Far from regarding a batman’s job as a “ cushy ” one, as his fellows did, he manifestly despised it. He did his work, but with a subtle difference. For my part, I found it difficult to treat as a subordinate a man whom I knew was able to buy and sell me ten .times over. I had the feeling, that secretly he viewed me with contempt. I was never comfortable while in his hands, and I was glad when I saw the last of him. Later, for my sins, I had the services of another choice spirit. If there were nine right ways of doing a thing and one wrong way Jenkins invariably hit on the wrong one. The climax came when one day I was going on leave. Every night two boats left Havre for England, the packet boat from Southampton w’harf, and the leave boat from the Quai D’Escale. Unable to discover by which I was to travel, I went to Havre to inquire. I left my gentleman in camp with my luggage, with strict orders to remain there until I telephoned the orderly room, saying where he was to meet me. Learning that I was to go by the packet boat I immediately rang the camp, asking the orderly sergeant to tell my man to meet me at 8 o’clock at the Southampton wharf. An hour later I rang again to make certain that all was in order. They replied that they had been unable to discover Jenkins, but that they would make another search. About 5 o’clock I again rang, and learned that soon after I had loft camp Jenkins had passed the guard on his way to the Quai D’Escale. _ Hurrying the two miles to the Quai D’Eseale I found the leave boat, with a mountain of luggage piled on the wharf beside it, but no Jenkins.

Arranging with the man in charge to ring m© at the Officers’ Club, if Jenkins turned up, I returned to Havre. During dinner a message came saying Jenkins would meet me at 8 o’clock at the gate of the Southampton wharf. When I reached the appointed place Jenkins was there, standing before a pile of luggage, with my rug thrown over it. He explained that he had understood me to say that he was to go direct to the Quai D’Escale. He had stood there for hours waiting. He had then gone for a cup of tea. “ An’ it must a’been while I was ’aving it that you come lookin’ for me.” As only the appointed orderlies were allowed on the boat 1 dismissed Jenkins, found an orderly, and preceded him Giving him the number of my cabin, I presently followed him down. “ Here you are, sir,” he said. “ Your suitcase in the corner, an’ your rug on the bed.” “ But where is the other suitcases and my Burberry?” I demanded. “ That’s all there was there, sir.” he answered. “ That suitcase, with the rug over the top of it.” Looking at the suitcase I saw on it the name “ Major Burness.” I sent it ashore again, picked up the rug, and went to investigate. As I could find nothing of my belongings I accepted the inevitable and returned to camp. Tho following morning Jenkins was all surprise and regret. He swore that he had placed my things by the gate with the rug over them. “ It must a’been after I left you, and .you went to find that orderly, that somebody come along an’ pinched ’em.” he said. In Havre that day I inquired in vain. That night I left for Southampton. There and in London I searched every possible luggage depot without result. However, the day before my three weeks’ leave expired, a delivery wagon deposited my suitcases intact at the door. My expensive and very necessary Burberry I never saw again. Some weeks later, when I had occasion to go to the Quai D’Escale, the sergeant in charge remarked to me, “ That’s a funny sort of batman you’ve go't, sir.” When I asked why he thought so he replied, “ You know that day you was goih’ on leave? Well, there was a pile of luggage ’ere as big as a house, an’ when your batman come with yours he dumped it down with the rest. Then, with the rug on his farm, he went off to the refreshment hut.. While he was away we began to load the luggage aboard. When he come back, an’ got your message, an’ found your luggage was aboard, he grabbed the first suitcase he come to an’ bolted with it.” THE TYRANT.' Another batman I had for a time whom I can best describe as a domestic

tyrant. He was an old regular soldier, with a passion for punctuality, order, and correctness in dress. Alway* scrupulously respectful, he yet contrived to make me feel like an irresponsible and very dirty little boy, who could never be trusted either to wash or to dress himself. Never was I allowed out without careful inspection. Often I. tried to sneak away unobserved. Seldom did I succeed. Alway* from some corner be would pounce upon me. Never shall I forget hi* pained look as in accents of horror h« would say, “ You can’t go out in that, sir!” Back he would drag me to make some change and give me a thorough groom down. Very different was Boyce, an Australian. Joining an Australian transport early in 1916, we left England with 500 Gallipoli men “ unfit for further service.” The first day out Boyce wa* sent me to act as my batman. Lounging into my cabin he remarked, “ Nothing vou want just now, I suppose?” “Nothing now,” I answered, “Well, if anything happens I’ll look in,” he said, and vanished. I never again saw Boyce until the morning, seven weeks later, when we tied up in Sydney. While I was packing up to go ashore' the curtains suddenly parted, and Boyce’s head appeared, “ Everything all right?” he inquired genially. “ Quite all right,” I responded. “ Well, then,” he said, “ I think I’ll be getting ashore. So long!”