MRS CAPTAIN FOLLOWS THE DRUM.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16454, 16 June 1921, Page 9

MRS CAPTAIN FOLLOWS THE DRUM.

“ You seem to live an uncertain sort of life.” I said to the newly married wife of an old brother-officer of mine the other day, when rumours were rifo concerning tlic possible move ol a considerable force of our Regular Army. Her eyes looked rather wistfully round the drawing-room of tho little house they had just taken ami newly furnished, under tbe impression that now peace had been, declared tbe battalion would remain at a home station for at least a year. Then she smiled aud shrugged her shoulders. “It is our job.” she said. To bo ready to go anywhere at a moment’s notice is of necessity one of the. conditions which the professional soldier must accept ns an integral part of his life. Equally the woman who marries him must be prepared to bo for long periods without any fixed home of lier own. If she ho a good wife her path lies in the wake of the drum and she will follow it, unless active service conditions prevent her, into whatsoever corners of the world it mav beat. Tile wives of our soldiers to-day are scattered all over tho universe. Some are on the Rhine, some in Egyot and Palestine, other* in Constantinople, China, and military stations in tho Far East. The man in the street, who did his job faithfully during the five years of war and has now settled again in business and his English home, little realises the shifts and contrivances that are the daily lot of the families of professional soldiers. Not long ago a certain battalion in the Regular Army, after being brought back from Germany, was quartered m one of our Channel Islands; u brio! sojourn there and the battalion was ordered to move to a great military centre near London. This’ second arrangement proved to bo of no longer duration than the first; a third order was issued moving the battalion to Ireland. Thus within the space of six months a battalion bad three separate moves each of which might easily have been of a semi-permanent nature justifying tbe soldiers in setting up homes for their wives and families. A few years ago a brother-officer of mine was left in this manner with no fewer than three furnished houses upon his hands in the United Kingdom when finally he was ordered to India. Furnished houses were by no means easy to dispose of in those days, and my friend’s financial resources were limited, so liis position was not enviable. However, there is a certain natural phlegm with which Providence endows soldiers and their wives. It is not always easy for “ Airs Captain,”* on the dress allowance that her husband is able to give her, to maintain a wardrobe suitable for proceeding at short notice cither to Archangel or the Antipodes; but she contrives somehow, and no matter where slio mpy be sent she turns up fresh and smiling. It is on record that a. British officer whose name is historic left his newlywedded bride at the church door in order to telegraph for permission to join a military expedition of which a friend had just brought him news iu the vestry*. As he explained to his tearful wife, who objected that he had had no orders to join this force: “I know, inv dear, but it is mv job to apply for a place.”—“The Daily Mail.’’