THE UGLIEST MAN IN THE ARMY.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2928, 25 July 1911, Page 3

THE UGLIEST MAN IN THE ARMY.

By ABHMORE RUSSAN.

There was little, if any, exaggera tion about it. An uglier private may possibly have existed, seeing thai there were so many to pick anc choose from, but not an uglier officer.

Gentle ladies encountering Carmichael and unwilling to utter the unpleasant truth, might remark " What a very plain man !" But that would be merely a euphemism. Carmichael's features were not plain in any of the dictionary meanings ol the word. And he knew it only toe well.

As a cadet at Sandhurst his trialE began, or rather, came to a head ; they really began when he lay in a cradle.

'"lf I owned that mug of yours, Carmichael," said Tomkins, a fellow of the same year, in a moment ol irritation, "do you know what I'd do with it 7" "I haven't an idea, Tommy," the ugly youth rejoined good-humour-edly. "I'd enter it in a selling race for baboons and back it heavily. If it started off with a rush it would be sure to win, as none of the other monkeys would venture near it. Then the first bidder under the rules would probably get it. If nobody made a bid I'd shoot it." Carmichael flushed at the brutal insult; his hands clenched involuntarily. But he choked down his anger.

"It would put you in funds, anyway, Tommy," he said, quietly, though his eyes were blazing. "That would be a pleasant and remarkable change, wouldn't it ?" A shout of laughter from the listeners greeted the upper-cut, which, for the moment, knocked Tomkins out of time. Bnt the thing was of daily occurrence. "Carmichael," said the captain ol the soccer team, which had just been asked to " look pleasant," "you'd better get back into the back row. I'm afraid you'll break the camera where you are." That, comparatively speaking, was a harmless bit of fun. But no single drop of water ever yet wore away a stone. Attrition is brought febout by millions of drops. "Davis," said the ugly youth, staying where he was, "when this foolery's over I'll break your head." And he did, or at least he bruised it pretty severely. From which it will be gathered that it was not always the biggest insult which aroused the greatest resentment. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred Carmichael passed off an allusion to his ugliness with quip or swift retort which generally got home. In due course he was gazetted to the "Dusty-boys." New trials came quickly. Colonel Masters took great pride in the appearance of the regiment, as was fitting. At sight of his latest subaltern he frowned heavily, but said nothing at the time, being generally a gentleman. One day, however, his feelings overcame him.

"You had choice of two services, Carmichael," he said, " why the deuce didn't you go into the navy ? Y"ou could have worn a beard there." "It seems rather a pity, colonel," rejoined the civilian coolly, "for I hate shaving like the deuce. Perhaps the devil knows why I didn't, and will give you the information." The colonel tugged at his long ?rey moustache and looked his ugly duckling up and down. "H'm !" he said. "I suppose I deserved that shot. Serves me right, eh ? But—ail the same—you'd look a lot handsomer in the navy. D—m it, sir, you're the ugliest man in his Majesty's army."

"I am quite of your opinion," said the lieutenant.

There was no ragging, the whole regiment couldn't have ragged Lieutenant Carmichael; but there are other ways of killing cats besides choking them to death with butter.

The Colonel-in-Chief of the " Dusty-boys" was a German duke —Schlossenwasser - Heidelstern, to wit. Being in England, be wished to inspect the regiment. Colonel Masters provided the opportunity. Remembering that Schlossen-an-the-rest-of-it had been an officer of the Imperial Guard the British colonel was on his mettle. Riding along the front rank of the "'Dusty-boys" before the arrival of his Serene Highness, he came face to face with his ugly duckling. " Tou are excused, Carmichael," he said. "For the credit of the regiment take your face off the parade ground." The colonel, being on occasion a gentleman, as already mentioned, had spoken in a low tone ; nevertheless, he was overheard by some of the rank and file. One or two of the more thoughtless sniggered. The Bubaltern coloured to his hair, but did not speak and did not move. It was a satisfaction to hear a sergeant behind him whisper audibly : "You, Smith and Chupple, you low-lived hounds, I'll teach you to snigger when I get you in barracks." The colonel heard, and promptly made amends. "Carmichael, I beg your pardon," he said aloud, and rode on.

Presently His Serene and very fat Highness arrived and duly inspected the regiment. His gaze rested od Carmichael for a second or so as he passed by, but he »aid nothing until after luncheon. Of course he had been introduced to all the mess before the meal.

"Very extraordinary-looking man, Lieutenant Carm —Carm —something or other, colonel," he remarked confidentially. "Never saw a face like his bat once. It was in the Andaman Islands years ago, I think, or was it in the woods of Borneo ? Ach, yes, an orang-outang. Really, I don't remember. But deßead uson it

colonel, if ever the ' Dusty-boys' get in a tight fix that's the man to get 'em out of it."

The speech was prophetic. It was rather a pity Lieutenant Oarmlchae) did not hear it.

The rank and file spoke of him generally as "Old Ugly Mag," after the fashion of the irreverent British soldier. But both respect and affection might have been read in the tones always, as the prefix evidenced The British Tommy knows a man when he sees him, if he ha* got a face like a baboon.

A student of physiognomy might have said that the ugliness lay in the peculiar angle and massiveness of Carmichael's jaw as contrasted with heavy, over-hanging brows and deep-set eyes. He might also have refused to define it, which would have been the better part and therefore fit to be followed here. That Carmichael suffered intensely there is no doubt; bat except by a sudden, if only occasional, heightened colour, he rarely gave a sign. Women he shunned as a rule ; nevertheless, he fell in love, and that filled his cup of bitterness to the brim.

She was the daughter of a general who had once been colonel of the "Dusty-boys," and still took a great interest in them. Perhaps, to paraphrase Othello, she loved him for the scorn and jeering he had passed, and he loved her that she did pity him. Anyway, she was exceedingly sympathetic, and he dared to think that she might overlook his ugliness. So she might have done bat for a plainspoken married friend of hers. "My dear Lucy," saM the friend., "what are you thinking about ? You really can't marry Lieutenant Carmichael The thing is impossible." She used many arguments, some exceedingly strong, and so settled the matter apparently for all time. Well, Lieutenant Carmichael was ingrained to rebuffs. Let it pass. This is not a love story.

In a defile of the hills on the notorious North-West Frontier the "Dusty-boys" were in a tight fix. The Battan Khels, assisted by some roaming Afghan regulars, had descended upon them in a cloud, angry as disturbed hornets. The defile was very narrow, closed in on either flank by rocky precipices inaccessible except to goats and hillmen. At one spot only, where there was a break was it possible for the enemy to clamber up the rocks bordering the defile and enfilade the British troops, likewise hurl and roll great stones upon them. At the narrowest part of the pass, a short distance from the break, Colonel Masters halted his men to cover the retreat of the baggage and the wounded, and at the same time keep the enemy back from the depression, the only climb* ing off place, so to say. The firing was incessant. The "Dusty-boys were decidedly angry. Many khaki-clad figures lay amongst the rocks which formed the surface of the pass. They were the bodies of the regiment's dead. No man with a breath of life in him had been left to be carved up with the long knives of the Battan Khels. Blood-stained bandages were prevalent; every other man, almost, had received a wound. Just beyond the strait, which was rendered still narrower by great boulders which had tumbled from above, the defile widened out into a plain a quarter of a mile in breadth. Behind the boulders lay the rearguard of the "Dusty-boys," commanded by Lieutenant Carmichael, firing at the Battan Khels. There was only space for six men to lie abreast and six to kneel behind them. Protected by a rock which rose vertically in the middle of the defile, the colonel, field-glass to his eyes, watched the enemy. "We must get out of this, Carmichael!" he suddenly cried. "The beggars are climbing up the cliffs, five hundred of them at least. In ten minutes they may be above us. There's no shelter in the open stretch beyond, and if they catch up with us there we shall lose half the men that are left. The devil of it is, if we retire, some of them may be over us in five minutes, and the main body will charge straight along the pass. You know what that will mean ?" Lieutenant Carmiehael crawled backwards from the firing line. "Yes. I know," he said quietly. "Simultaneous attacks on both flanks and in the rear. With luck a few of us might get out of this alive."

"And if the regiment doesn't retire ?"

" It'll be smashed to pulp with rocks from above without being able to fire a shot. May I suggest a way out, colonel ?" "Great heaven, yes, if you can."

*" Retire the regiment at the double. Leave me a dozen rifles with magazines fully charged, and I'll hold the pass for ten minutes. In twenty minutes yon should be safe. Ten minutes delay of the main body ought to do you." "But you ?" cried the colonel. "By heaven, Carmichael, we can't leave you. It's certain death. That you don't fear, I know; but to be taken alive and carved—never !" The commander of the rearguard laughed. "If they catch me they won't carve me, colonel. When I show them my ugly face they're more likely to run. But you may retire or not, as you please. lam going to stay."

Colonel Masters knew portestations were useless. "God bless you and keep you," he said, and at once gave the necessary orders. The rearguard <Jiu not obey willingly. "No, by thunder !" blurted out a burly sergeant. "If Lieutenant Carmichael stops we're goin' ter see him through." It was rather a wonder he did not, in his excitement, refer to his officer as " Old Ugly Mug." The lieutenant had to intervene. They left him twenty rifles fully :harged and a heap of ammunition. Then they retired sullenly, cursing, ind loosing back over their shoul-

ders as they consigned the Battan Khels and all their like to various hells too lurid-for comprehension in a northern climate. ;

The firing was rapid and continuous. Well they knew the sound of their own rifles. They also 'knew that the lieutenant was changing his position every half-dozen, shots or so, for some of the reports came to; their ears more dully than others, proof of intervening boulders, causing breaks in the sound waves. Then, just as the foremost files were debouching in the open, they heard the boom of a eannon. The colonel reined in his charger beside that of his adjutant.

"So these infernal Afghans, who must be meddling wherever there's trouble, have got a gun," he said. "Yes, and they'll need it to silence Carmichael,," the major rejoined. "I've a great mind to go back," the colonel went on.

"No use doing that, sir," said the major bitterly. "It would only mean the loss of more lives to no purpose. But as we are out from those infernal stone walls I don't think we need run any farther."

"You're right." The colonel gave an order, and a bugler sounded the halt and form square. The movement was carried out at lightning speed, for the "'Dusty-boys" were in anything but a retreating humour. Most of the officers hastened to that face of the square which fronted the mouth of the defile. All the fieldglasses in the regiment were directed that way.

Still the sharp crack of the LeeMetfords continued, readily distinguishable from the duller and more distant reports of the enemy's Sniders and stolen Martinis. At intervals the gun boomed out. Clearly the Battan Khels thought the regiment were still holding the pass, and those who had started to climb the rocks had been foiled somehow. Presently there was a double explosion from the gun, and a cloud of smoke at the barrier rocks, still faintly visible in the dull light of the deep defile. "Common shell, by Jove !" cried the colonel. "Wonder where they got it Ah !" He had his fieldglass to his eyes. "I can see Carmichael !" he went on excitedly. "I saw his face just then. He's hit. He's running this way. Volunteers to the rescue ! By heaven we must save him !"

Every unwounded man in the regiment and many of those who were hurt were amongst the volunteers. If the Battan Khels had managed to scale the cliffs and drop into the plain what a slaughter there would have been during that mad rush of the "Dusty-boys" back into the fatal pass ! But, held by the rapid firing, the heroism of one man, they had not ventured beyond the boulders he had defend'ed until he abandoned his post.

The major, being a well-mounted light weight, was the first man up to the fugitive, who was closely followed by a hundred hillmen brandishing long knives. He hauled him up to the saddle in front of him, wheeled, and dashed back at speed, amidst tumultuous cheers and spattering volleys. Once in the hastily reformed square the surgeons took the hero in hand. A shell had exploded almost in his face and wrought great havoc. It was a miracle his head had not been blown off. He remained in hospital four months. But the surgeons patched and sewed him up and eventually discharged him cured, badly scarred, but hideous no longer. The uncanny angle of his chin had disappeared, or had been altered. He was anything but handsome, of course ; but scars are not ugly in the eyes of man, and particularly of woman, when they have been gloriously gained. So it came about that the old general's daughter ignored the warning of her married friend and cheerfully went to the altar with Captain Carmichael, V.C., once the ugliest man in the army.—"Yes or No."