# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3819/James Feels Better

JAMES FEELS BETTER.
The Sergean-Major was speaking.
"Company—'shun!"
We 'shunned. We stood motionless (all but one of us) waiting for his next words. Then he spoke again.
"Blank blanked," he yelled, "what the blank are you doing?" He was looking at me, and my heart was in my mouth. "Blanket," he went on, "if you want to scratch your nose, step out here and scratch it. My blank!" My heart dropped back again. He must be talking to James behind me. I longed to look round and watch the generous waves of colour stealing over James’s classic features, to fix with a reproachful eye that Roman proboscis which he had been grooming; but duty, or natural integrity of character, or fear of the Sergeant-Major, or something, held me fast.
"Company—dis-miss!"
We turned to the right and I took James affectionately by the arm. "How's the neb?" I said.
And then James told me what he thought of the Sergeant-Major.
"Pretty good rot," he said, "talking like that to a man in my position. Cursing a married man with a family as if he were a rotten schoolboy. If I met him in ordinary life he'd say 'Sir' to me—probably ask me for a job, and go about in a holy fear that I was going to sack him."
"Discipline, James," I said. "Think how good it is for you to be ordered about for a change. And think how jolly it must be for the Sergeant-Major to swear at well-known public men. Don't grudge him his little bit of pleasure. And finally, think how stimulating it is for the rest of us. I assure you, James, there's nothing more bracing to a man than to hear another man being cursed."
James muttered to himself. We lit our pipes and sat down among some other members of our platoon. James was silent, but we others talked eagerly about the difference between "Right form" and "On the right form company," and other matters which had suddenly become of great importance.
"Let's go and have a little private drill," said one of the keen ones.
"It'll only turn into a rag," I said.
"But of course we shall have to agree to take it seriously and obey orders. Who'll come?"
About ten of us offered ourselves. I looked at James; to my surprise he jumped up quickly. We went off to a corner of the field, and lined up two deep.
"And now who'll drill us?" said James.
We all hung back nervously. To obey an order as one of ten is so much easier than to give an order as one of one.
"I will, if you like," said James doubtfully, "but I'm not sure if—"
"Go on," we all said; "have a try."
James stopped out of the ranks and faced us.
"Cover off, there," he said briskly. "Squad—'shun!" We were five files, and I was No. 3 in the front rank. "Stand at—ease... Number Three, what the blank are you smoking for? Number Three—the stout one in the front rank. Put that pipe away, Private Haldane. Blanket, Sir, this isn't a Cabinet meeting; you're drilling."
"Steady, James, old man," I said.
"Silence in the ranks! Two days cells for Private Haldane—both of the week-days. 'Shun! Number!... Form fours!"
We formed fours. Of course it is absurdly easy, even with an odd number of files, but it is also absurdly easy to forget.
"As you were!" shouted James. "The last file is always an even number. Surely you ought to know that by this time, Private Kitchener. The fourth file—Private Asquith and Private Tree, chest out, Private Tree—the fourth file stands fast. Form fours!! Right turn! Form two deep! 'Bout turn! Form fours! I thought so; Private Tree is wrong again. Silence, Private Haldane! Private Haldane will be shot at dawn to-morrow. Private Tree will be shot at dawn on the day after, this giving him time to prepare his farewell speech. Right turn! Where are you, Private Carson? Try and remember that you're not reviewing troops just now; you're attempting to decide as quickly as possible which is your right hand and which is your left. You'll find it a much harder job. The Army Corps will advance. By the right, quick march! Step out, Private Tich, my lad, step out."
James was now thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Left incline! Theirs not to reason why, Private Kipling; if I had meant 'right incline, and stop at the canteen,' I should have said so... Tut-tut, Private Tree, 'left incline' doesn't mean 'advance like a crab'... Right incline! And now where are you, Private Masterman? Left behind again. Halt! Dress up by the right. Blanket, Private Haldane, you're still talking. Private Haldane will be blown from the guns at dusk. As you were. It's no good taking half measures with Private Haldane; kindness is wasted on him. Private Haldane will be stopped jam for tea this afternoon."
And then a smile came over James’s face. He repressed it, drew himself up, and surveyed us sternly.
"Squad, 'shun! Scratch—noses!"
"Thank you, I feel much better," said James.
A. A. M.