Adventure, February 1917 — page 207: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Discipline THE Austrians weren’t fifty paces Wy “2 away, a dark silent mass of men blocking the alley. Their scab- bards rattled as they crowded elbows. They seemed to be coming in regular forma- tion—probably a non-com. in charge. They were going foward their barracks, too, while we went away from ours. They’d have by far the better story to tell when the reckoning time came. At about a bayonet swing apart, the two bodies stopped. Then the front of our bunch began edging closer, driven by the weight of the men behind. There wasn’t a word spoken. “In another minute they’ll go to it,” said I. Nobody answered me. I looked to where Maitland had stood a moment before. The place was empty. I looked all around. Maitland was gone, without saying a word. I couldn’t understand it. Lost his nerve, I supposed; but why couldn’t he have told me he was going, anyway? But before I could make up my mind whether to follow him of-to join the bunch, things started. There was a snarl ahead, and the sound of a blow. A club, I judged, aimed at an Austrian’s head, and hitting his shoulder instead. Our men surged forward. I heard the slithering sound of bayonets being yanked from their scabbards. A chill ran over me, and I found myself with a heavy rock in my hand. How it got there I don’t know. In another minute, in another second, there’d have been fifty or more fair-to- middling men killing each other—but then, sharp and clear, came from somewhere the - command— “Company—ahaltl”’ I stopped on the instant, like the drilled human machine I was. So did everybody else. After I'd stopped I thought: ‘An officer! Caught! Summary courts for all of us! So that’s why Maitland beat it.” Then my hands slapped my thighs, the stone I held fell to the ground, and my heels clicked together. For a second command had rung out— “Atiention!” And to the sound of that command given in a crackling voice, the voice of an officer born—probably, I thought, one of the new ones from the Islands—every American there had straightened, stiffened, heads and \ the officer, 205 eyes to the front, dropping clubs and swords and stones. Then the officer stepped out from a ‘narrow passageway right between us and the Austrians, who’d given back a little, waiting. It wasso dark we could hardly see him. He took charge of us, snapping his commands out shortly and a little im- patiently. “Fall in! Count off! About face!” and finally, “Forward march!” Never were movements executed more handily, for we were all strung-up, fright- ened, like kids caught in mischief. Left, right, left, we ‘started down the alley, the ~ officer, of course, keeping in the rear to head off possible stragglers. At Hattamen we got “Squads left!” and at Legation Street “Column right!’ and so we marched, with no thought but of the punishment we saw ahead of us. Except me, and I thought mainly of Maitland’s cowardice and desertion. For it was plain he’d seen the officer and slipped away, too mean to give even me the warning for fear of lessening his own chances of escape. A false friend, a false sentry, an intending deserter, but it served me right, I told myself, for chumming with such a man. Up Legation Street to the garrison gate; “Column left!” and we marched past the staring sentry into the compound. And that was the last command we got. Straight ahead until the front of the column collided with the flagpole, and we doubled up in disorder, and looked around to discover we had no more officer than a street rabble. But the sergeant of the guard was coming across with a lantern, growling. “What. fool’s lark is this?’’ he wanted to know. ‘Come over here and mark in and be quiet.” And then—would you believe it?—out of the mob of them came Maitland, and joggled my elbow, and chuckled happily in , my ear: “By —! discipline!”’ Nichols, that’s the use of Sure, I’m telling you, for Maitland was and the officer was Maitland, and in the darkness that bunch of old- timers and hard nuts had been marched home by a rear-rank private. And that’s about all, except that Maitland seemed - to have got that night the answer he’d been Gomichoo (G <S (C(O)