M.C.A.
This is about as much like our dear, old, real Tommy Atkins as Kipling's
portrait was. Such a likeness does no honour to the man. It is simply
lifeless. Whatever Tommy is, he is a man; not a round-eyed, pink-cheeked
waxwork stuffed with bran. The truth is coarse and strong, but he can
stand having the truth told about him.
Soldiers as a class (I take the town-bred, slum-bred majority, mind) are
men who have discarded the civil standard of morality altogether. They
simply ignore it. This, no doubt, is why civilians fight shy of them. In
the game of life they don't play the same rules, and the consequence is
a good deal of misunderstanding, until finally the civilian says he
won't play with the Tommy any more. In soldiers' eyes lying, theft,
drunkenness, bad language, &c., are not evils at all. They steal like
jackdaws. No man's kit or belongings are safe for an instant in their
neighbourhood unless under the owner's eye. To "lift" or "pinch"
anything from anybody is one of the Tommy's ordinary everyday interests,
a thing to be attended to and borne in mind along with his other daily
cares and duties. Nothing is more common than to see some distracted
private rushing about in search of a missing article, which he declares
in anguished tones he has only just that instant laid down; his own
agitation a marked contrast to the elaborate indifference of every one
near him.
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