【百科事典】ウィキぺディア第2096刷【Wikipedia】
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== 前スレ ==
【百科事典】ウィキぺディア第2095刷【Wikipedia】
http://lavender.5ch.net/test/read.cgi/hobby/1552722359/l50
http://lavender.5ch.net/test/read.cgi/hobby/1552725444/l50 3月14日午前
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/. |：： ｜ 信任投票 ｜ ：：| ／￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣
|.... |：： ｜ 賛6-2反.. ｜ ：：| | よし、賛成だけ一気に伸びたな！この調子だ！
|.... |：： ｜ ｜ ：：| ＼＿ ＿＿＿＿＿＿
|.... |：： └──────┘ ：：| ∨
＼_｜ ┌────┐ .| ∧∧
￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ ∬ ( ＿)
／￣￣￣￣￣旦￣(_, ）←ミラブル
／ ＼
|￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣|、＿）
￣|￣|￣￣￣￣￣￣|￣
↓
最終結果
／|：： ┌──────┐ ：：|
/. |：： ｜ 信任投票 ｜ ：：| ／￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣
|.... |：： ｜ 賛12－14反..｜ ：：| | ファッ！？
|.... |：： ｜ ｜ ：：| ＼＿ ＿＿＿＿＿＿
|.... |：： └──────┘ ：：| ∨
＼_｜ ┌────┐ .| ∧∧
￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ ∬ ( ＿)
／￣￣￣￣￣旦￣(_, ）←ミラブル
／ ＼
|￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣|、＿）
￣|￣|￣￣￣￣￣￣|￣ あれだけ言うんなら
市井の人が管理者立候補すればいい >>77
>Sho.miz って誰なん？
ユーザーボックスにご執心のガキ ユーザーボックスに拘りがあり転生すると初心者装うLTAがいたな
モバイル回線だから住んでるところも適当 トコロテン射精バカネ切干大根が起床
相変わらず趣味板を荒らしてる [[ノート:Hazuki Company]]
これ見るからに[[Wikipedia:削除依頼/プリヴェ企業再生グループ]]の人じゃないの
[[Ytaka11]]・[[C3px]]・[[Refilemminx]]・[[Slimlimber]]
・[[Nimblefigs]]・[[Practerial]]・[[Stp6]]・[[Osn11]]・[[Itp55]]
・[[Vhudcd]]・[[Ptyths]]・[[Ogi 1212]]・[[Wk120]]・[[Yjz11]]
少なくともこの14アカウントは全部ソックでしょ {{DISPLAYTITLE:{{JIS2004フォント|葛}}飾北斎}}
{{Otheruseslist|[[勝川春章]]の門人で勝川春朗を称した浮世絵師|葛飾北斎の二代目を称した人物|葛飾北斎 (2代目)}}
{{Redirect|勝川春朗|葛飾北斎の門人で二代目春朗を称した人物|勝川春朗 (2代目)}}
{{統合文字|葛}}
{{Infobox 芸術家
| name = 葛飾 北斎
| image =Hokusai portrait.jpg
| imagesize = 180px
| caption = 自画像（[[天保]]10年（[[1839年]]）頃）
| nationality = {{JPN}}
| movement =
| awards =
| patrons =
| bgcolour = #6495ED
| birthdate = {{生年月日と年齢|1760|10|31|no}}
| location = {{JPN}} [[下総国]][[葛飾郡]][[本所 (墨田区)|本所]][[割下水]]
| deathdate = {{死亡年月日と没年齢|1760|10|30|1849|5|10}}
| deathplace = {{JPN}} [[江戸]]
| field = [[浮世絵]]
| training =
| works = 『[[富嶽三十六景]]』『[[北斎漫画]]』『[[蛸と海女]]』
| influenced by = [[勝川春章]]、[[北尾政美|鍬形蕙斎]]
| influenced = [[歌川広重]]、[[歌川国芳]]、[[印象派]]等の西洋芸術
}} >>99
だって積極的に反対する理由も賛成する理由もないんだもん
依頼が滞ってるけど、依頼者としての貢献で十分すぎるし、
執筆がちょっと少ないから感覚的なところで不安は残るし
例祭もそうなんだが、「管理者ではないこと」による価値があるのは、
管理者として投入するのがもったいないんだよね 駄楽については管理者にする価値が見当たらないので反対 このまま、質疑応答無し、コメント無し、投票無しで落選して欲しい。 The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Modern Legionary, by John Patrick Le Poer
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this ebook.
Title: A Modern Legionary
Author: John Patrick Le Poer
Release Date: March 21, 2019 [EBook #59084]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN LEGIONARY *** A MODERN LEGIONARY
CHAPTER I
On a January morning in the early eighties I found myself in Paris
with less than a dozen francs in my purse, or rather my pockets, for I
have always had a habit of distributing my money between waistcoat and
trousers, so that if one pocket be picked the contents of the others
may have a chance of remaining still in my possession.
How I arrived in Paris is easily explained. After two years and a
half in a boarding-school I had become so tired of its monotonous
routine and, indeed, of the idleness which prevailed there--for the
masters never tried to teach, and, naturally, the boys never tried to
learn--that I resolved, when the Christmas vacation came to an end,
to leave my home in the south of Ireland and seek my fortune through
the world. Accordingly, instead of going back to school, I set out
for Dublin, whence I started for London by the first boat. In London
I spent a day, and then came on to Paris, filled with vague hopes and
vaguer misgivings as to my future. Thus it happened that I at the age
of sixteen was walking the streets of Paris on the 6th of January 188-. I considered anxiously what lay before me. I could not go home, even
if pride did not forbid. True, I could write for money, having enough
to maintain myself until it came, but that would be too great a
humiliation. To dig I was not able, and to beg I was ashamed, so I saw
but one course open to me--to enlist. Having made up my mind, which I
did the more easily as I had been brought up in a garrison town, and
like most boys loved to follow the soldiers in their bright uniforms
and to march along with head erect, keeping step to the music of the
band, I at once set about carrying my resolve into effect. I was not
long in beginning. As I walked along the streets I saw a soldier with a
gold chevron on his arm, and, going across the road, I addressed him. I
did not speak French very well, but had something more than the usual
schoolboy knowledge of it, as I had read a good many French books and
papers when I should have been at Greek or Mathematics in the study
hall. Very soon, therefore, he learned my purpose, and a conversation
ensued, somewhat as follows:--
"You are English; is it not so?"
"No; I am Irish, from the south of Ireland."
"Very well, my friend; but you must go to the Foreign Legion, and that
will not be very pleasant, you may well believe. Always in Algeria,
except when serving in Tonquin and other devil's colonies on the earth." "I do not mind that; in the English army one has to go to India and
South Africa, so what matter?"
"Ah! and you are doubtless without money, and one has to live."
"Let us go in here," said I, pointing to a wine shop. "We can talk
better over a glass."
"Good comrade! good comrade!" he cried, slapping me on the shoulder;
"I see that you will be a soldier after my own heart. Have no fear,"
he continued; "I will tell you all, and you may rely on me as a loyal
friend."
When we entered the shop my new-found friend asked me whether I should
drink _eau-de-vie_ or _vin ordinaire_, and, on my refusing the brandy,
commended my discretion, saying that young soldiers should never touch
brandy as it interfered with their chances of promotion, and, moreover,
they did not usually have money enough to pay for it. Thereupon he
called for _eau-de-vie_ for himself and some wine, rather sour I
thought it, for his young friend, and when we had clinked glasses and
drunk, our conversation was resumed.
I shall not try to reproduce the dialogue, which would, indeed,
be wearisome, as we sat and talked for full two hours, with many repetitions. During this time I drank little, and the sergeant, though
he had his glass filled more than once, took no more than he could
safely bear. One thing I must say of him, that although he painted
the soldier's life in glowing colours yet he always kept me in mind
of the fact that he spoke of the French army in general and his own
regiment in particular. What he said had no reference to the Foreign
Legion. That corps was not to be compared to his. There were in it men
who had fled from justice; from Russia, though, indeed, the offences
of these were in most cases political; from Germany, and yet many were
Alsatians and Lorrainers who wished to become French citizens; from
Austria, Belgium, Spain; from every country in the world. And, whatever
their crimes had been, they were of a surety being punished, for their
stations were on the borders of the great desert, where were sand and
sun and tedium so great that an Arab raid was a pleasant relief.
"But there were French soldiers also there, were there not?"
"Oh yes; the zephyrs, the bad ones who could not be reclaimed to duty,
to discipline, or even to decency, and who were sent to form what one
might call convict battalions in places to which no one wished to send
good soldiers--men who respected themselves and the flag."
"But the Foreign Legion could not be always in Algeria, on the borders
of the desert?" "Oh no; there were many of them in Tonquin on active service, and
these, of course, were just as well or as ill-off as the regular French
troops, but still they were rascals, though, he would confess, very
good fighting men. There was a war in Tonquin against great bands of
marauders who carried a variety of flags, by the colours of which they
were known: I must have heard of the principal ones--the infamous
Black Flags, who gave no quarter to the wounded and who mutilated the
dead. These were helped by the regular Chinese soldiers, and had among
them many Europeans, dogs that they were, who gave them advice and
instruction, because these Europeans were Prussians or English who
hated the great French Republic and viewed its expansion with dislike
and distrust."
"But was there not a good chance of promotion in the Legion?"
"Oh yes; if one did one's duty and willingly obeyed orders and did not
get into trouble. Oh yes; there was always justice for the good as
well as for the bad. If one was not a corporal in five years there was
little use in staying; one could take his discharge and go away."
That decided me. I was sixteen--in five years I should be
twenty-one--better spend the time learning experience in the world
than in the dull, dreary idleness to which I was accustomed, and which
filled me with disgust. I said so to the sergeant. He looked me up and
down, and said: "How old?"
"Sixteen," I replied.
"You cannot enlist; the recruit must be at least eighteen."
I thought a moment. "I will be eighteen; they cannot see the registers
of my parish."
"Very well, very well, my son; you are resolved. I will say no more to
prevent you--I will help you--you shall be a soldier of the Republic
to-morrow."
He kept his word. We spent the day together; he showed me his barrack,
his room in it, where to dine and sleep, and leaving me at nine
o'clock, with a parting injunction to meet him at eight in the morning
at the barrack gate, went away saying:
"Poor devil! poor devil!"
On the following morning at ten minutes to eight I was at the gate.
Indeed, I might easily have been there at six, but as the morning was
cold and nothing could be gained by being out and about too soon I
remained snugly between the sheets until seven. Punctually at eight the sergeant appeared, and we walked towards one another smiling. I
asked him to join me at breakfast. He readily consented, and soon we
were seated together in a small restaurant before a table at which we
appeased the hunger induced by the sharp morning air with eggs, bread
and butter, and coffee. Breakfast over, the sergeant asked, as he said,
for the last time, if I were still resolved to join the Foreign Legion.
I replied that I was, if I should be accepted.
"Very good; we have half-an-hour, let us walk about until it is time to
meet the doctor."
While strolling through the streets he gave me much advice. I was to be
respectful, alert, step smartly, and, above all, be observant.
"Watch the others," he said, "and you will very soon learn soldiers'
manners."
I promised to do so, and reminded him that I had grown two years older
in a single night. He smiled, and said encouragingly:
"Good child! good child!--alas! poor devil!"
I asked him what he meant by alluding to me as a poor devil, and again
he abused the Foreign Legion with a vocabulary as insulting as it was
extensive. I had never heard or read one-tenth of the words, but it was not hard to guess the meaning. I stopped him by laying my hand upon his
arm, and said:
"You forget that I may be one of the Foreign Legion before noon."
"True, true; but I do not apply the expressions to you, only to those
who are already there." And he pointed with his finger towards the
south.
"Very good; but surely not to all? What can you say against the
political refugees from Russia?"
"Ah! they are different; they----"
I stopped him again, and said:
"And what can you say against a political refugee from Ireland?"
"Ah, ah! I understand; now I see clearly. Oh, my friend, why did you
not tell me yesterday?"
From that moment he believed me, a schoolboy of sixteen, to be a head
centre of the Fenians, or at least a prominent member of some Irish
league. This belief had consequences shortly afterwards, pleasant and
unpleasant, but we live down our sorrows as, unfortunately, we live down our joys.
Well, soon it was time to "meet the doctor," so we went towards the
barrack, and passing the gate approached a portion of the square where
about twelve men in civil dress were already assembled. I was told
that these also were would-be recruits, not all, however, for the
Foreign Legion, as some were Frenchmen who volunteered at as early
an age as possible instead of waiting to be called up. Not far off a
small party of _sous-officiers_ stood, criticising the recruits, and
laughing sarcastically at an occasional witticism. These the sergeant
joined, and I was at leisure to observe my companions. They were of
all sorts and conditions. One, a tall man with white hands, at least
I saw that the right one was white, but the left one was gloved, who
wore a silk hat, frock coat, and excellently got-up linen, looked
rather superciliously at us all. Another, in a workman's blouse and
dirt-covered trousers and boots, had his hands in his pockets, and,
curving his shoulders, looked intently at the ground. A third,
about eighteen, in a schoolboy's cap and jacket, was humming the
Marseillaise; he was a French lad who _would_ be a soldier. There was
a dark-browed man, a Spaniard as I learnt afterwards, tugging at his
small moustache; a few others whom I have forgotten; and, lastly,
standing somewhat apart from the crowd, three or four medium-sized,
heavily-built men, with the look of the farm about them, and, indeed,
the smell of it too, who proved to be Alsatians. I was still engaged in observing the others when a door was thrown
open, and we were all ordered into a large room on the ground floor
of a building, over the entrance to which were painted some words
which I now forget. Here we had to strip to shirt and trousers, but
as there was a stove in the place, and the windows and doors were
closed, that did not hurt too much. After a short delay the tall man
was summoned, and left the room by a door opposite to that by which
we had entered. Others were called afterwards, and I, as it happened,
was the last. As I passed out the sergeant--I forgot to mention that
he and the other _sous-officiers_ had come in with us, and all had
spoken encouragingly to me, having been told that I was a rebel against
"perfide Albion"--the sergeant, I say, tapped me on the shoulder, and
said:
"Have no fear, be quiet, respectful, attentive, good lad."
I thanked him with a nod and a smile and passed in. I now found myself
in a smaller room, where an old soldier with a long grey moustache--I
thought at once of the old guard--gruffly bade me take off my shirt
and trousers. I did so, and felt a slight shiver--it was January--as I
stood naked on the floor. I had scarcely finished shivering when the
schoolboy came from the doctor's room looking as happy and proud as
a king on his coronation day. It was quite evident that he had been
accepted, and already his early dreams of military renown seemed on the
point of realisation. Poor devil! as the sergeant said of me. I met him afterwards twice; the first time he was a prisoner under guard for
some offence, the second time he was calling out huskily for water in
the delirium before death.
As he went towards his clothing I entered the apartment he had just
left It was a large white-walled room, with a couple of chairs and
tables, a desk and stool, and a weighing machine in a corner, as its
chief furniture. A couple of soldiers were present, but evidently the
chief personage in the room was a tall, thin man with a hooked nose
and sharp grey eyes, whose moustache bristled out on each side. He was
dressed in uniform, and wore some decorations, but I cannot recall more
than that now. I doubt, indeed, if I ever fully grasped how he was
dressed--his eyes attracted my attention so much.
A few questions were asked--my name, age, country, occupation, and
others--which were answered by me at once and shortly. I did not forget
the sergeant's advice. Then followed a most careful observation of my
body. My height and weight were noted, as well as other things which I
did not understand. I remember I had to breathe deeply, and then hold
my breath as long as I could, to jump, to hop, and to go through every
form of work of which the human body or any part of it is capable. My
eyes were examined in various ways, and there was not a region of my
person left unexplored by the stethoscope or by the bony fingers of
my examiner. All the while he called out various words and sentences,
just as a tailor calls out while he measures you for a suit of clothes, https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/特別:投稿記録/Bokusyou
これは例祭の仕事が増えそうだな and a soldier at the desk took them down. The other soldier acted as
his chief's assistant, covering my right eye with his hand while the
left one was being tested, holding a stick for me to jump and hop over,
putting on the weights while I was on the machine, and doing all these
things at a nod or other sign from the doctor.
At last the examination was over. The doctor took the sheet of blue
paper on which the soldier at the desk had been writing, and, looking
alternately at it and at me, seemed carefully considering. I stood
erect, hands by my sides, looking steadily and respectfully at him. It
was very quiet. After some time he said:
"How old are you?" (in English, with just a trace of an accent). I
waited a moment, but that moment was enough.
"Eighteen, sir."
Had I answered on the spot he would have learned the truth. He paused
a little, still keeping his eyes on me, and then, slightly lifting his
eyelids, asked:
"Seventeen?"
"No, sir," I replied; "eighteen to-day." "When and where were you born?"
"Seventh of January, sir, in the year ----, and at the town of ----, in
the south of Ireland."
He still gazed at me in doubt, but I met his gaze steadily. Suddenly a
door opened--not the one through which I had come--and a short, stout,
bustling man, dressed in blue coat and red trousers, with a gold-laced
cap on his head, came in and, glancing carelessly at me, shook hands
warmly with the doctor. In the conversation which ensued it was
apparent by their glances and gestures that I had more than my share of
their attention. Finally they approached, and the short man asked me
my age. I replied as before. Turning sharp round he said with a merry
smile, which ended in a short, quick laugh:
"Oh, my friend, he is eighteen; he says so, and who knows better? Would
you destroy the enthusiasm of a volunteer by doubting his word? My fine
fellow"--this to me--"you will be eighteen before you leave us."
That settled it I was accepted, sent away to dress, and, as I had said
to the sergeant, before noon I was a sworn member of the Foreign
Legion, sworn in for five years.
The swearing-in was not impressive. All I remember about it is that in
a room with a very wide door an officer in a gold-laced cap sat at a table, repeated a form of words which I in turn repeated, holding up
my right hand the while, and then I kissed a book tendered to me by a
_sous-officier_. Some questions were asked, and I answered, telling
the truth, as, indeed, I had told the truth all through, except about
my age, and also except about the insinuation that I was a political
refugee.
That night I slept in the barrack. About eighteen or twenty other
recruits for the Foreign Legion occupied a large room with me. We
were of all countries in Europe, but the Alsatians outnumbered the
representatives of any other, and next to them came the Belgians and
Lorrainers. A couple of Poles, a Russian, a Hungarian, a Croat, the
Spaniard whom I have already mentioned, and myself completed the list.
We looked at one another rather suspiciously at first, but after some
time we became more sociable, and tried to explain, each in his own
execrable French, how we had come to enlist, and it struck me that,
if all were to be believed, my comrades were the most unfortunate
and persecuted set of honest men that the sun had ever shone upon. I
changed my opinion in the morning when I found that the last franc I
had, nay the last sou, had been taken from my pockets during the night,
but what was the use of complaining? It was a lesson I had to learn,
therefore the sooner I learned it the better, and it was well that I
learned it at no greater expense than a couple of francs. When we got a
blue tunic, red trousers, and kepi, with boots and other things, I sold
my civilian clothes to a Jew for one-tenth of their original cost, and that money did not leave my possession without my consent. I did not
spend it all upon myself, but neither did I spend it indiscriminately,
a jolly Belgian and the Russian had most of the benefit.
A little circumstance occurred which at first gave me great pleasure,
though afterwards its effects were rather serious, at least in my
opinion at the time. I had not been an hour in the room when the
sergeant came and gave me some tobacco and a small bottle of wine. I
insisted on his sharing the latter; as for the tobacco, that went in
the night along with my money. I saw some very like it afterwards with
one of the Poles. When going he shook hands warmly, bade me be of good
courage, and was about turning away when someone, an Alsatian, I think,
jostled against him. Immediately the flood-gates of his eloquence were
opened, he cursed and swore, and that not alone at the cause of his
anger but also at others who were near. No reply was made, and he went
away, still cursing and fuming with anger. How this event affected me
will be told in due course; suffice it to say that, young as I was, I
saw that his evident partiality for me and his undoubted contempt for
the others would likely bring unpleasant results before long.
In two days our numbers had increased to about thirty, and we were
despatched to Algeria under the orders of a sergeant and two corporals.
During the journey we learned a little more about discipline, but all
that and the journey itself must wait for a new chapter. a battalion by Black Flags; in fine, they are soldiers of the regiment
rather than of the army.
We were divided into two squads, each under the immediate control
of a corporal. My corporal was a jolly, good-humoured fellow, a bit
malicious, a Parisian gamin in uniform. He told us terrible stories of
the Foreign Legion, and said that we should get through our purgatory
if we only lived in it long enough. But in the end he defeated his own
object, for, as some tales were obviously untrue, we had no difficulty
in persuading ourselves that all were lies. The other corporal, a
tall, lank man, seemed to me moody or, perhaps I should say, pensive.
However, he had nothing to do with me, so I scarcely observed him.
With regard to the journey, I can only say that we marched from the
barrack to a railway station, travelled by train to Marseilles, thence
by transport to Oran, where we were handed over by the sergeant to a
_sous-officier_ of our own corps. Some incidents and scenes of the
journey I must relate, as they show how my military education began.
And first I must tell about the unpleasantness which I spoke of in the
first chapter.
Of course, a woman was the exciting cause--the match to the gunpowder.
Women can't help it; they are born with the desire of getting you to
do something for them. The average woman merely gets her husband to
support her; she would like to have every other woman in the parish there to see the weekly wages handed over, the wages which, if he were
a bachelor, would represent so much fun and frolic and reckless gaiety.
But there are women who would incite you to commit murder or to save a
life with equal eagerness, just to feel that their influence over you
was unbounded. However, this has little to do with the present case,
which was merely a casual flirtation and its ending.
At a certain station, which had more than its due share of loungers,
our train was stopped for some reason. We were allowed to get out
during the delay, and the report quickly spread that a squad or two
of recruits for the Foreign Legion had halted at the place. We were
soon surrounded by a curious group, many of which passed by no means
complimentary remarks upon our personal appearance and the crimes they
supposed us to have committed in our own countries before we came, or
rather escaped, to France.
In the crowd was a rather handsome woman of about thirty who pretended
great fear of us, as if we were cannibals from the Congo. The sergeant,
however, reassured her, told her that we were quite quiet under his
control--pleasant for us to listen to, wasn't it?--and volunteered to
give her all information about us. Well, he gave us information about
ourselves too.
He described the Pole as a dirty Prussian who had robbed his employer
and then made his escape to Paris. The Spaniard became a South American who had more murders on his soul than a professional bravo of the
Middle Ages. The Russian was a Nihilist who had first attempted to blow
up the Tsar and afterwards betrayed his accomplices, so that in the
Foreign Legion, and there only, could he hope to escape at once justice
and revenge. An Alsatian was described as a Hungarian brute: "these
Hungarian dogs are so mean, sneaking, filthy, and cowardly"; while the
poor Hungarian, who had heard all this, almost at once found himself
pointed out as an Austrian, a slave of an emperor who was afraid of
Germany. Unfortunately, as it turned out afterwards, I escaped his
notice, and what I congratulated myself upon at the time I had reason
afterwards to regret.
While the sergeant was thus trying to advance himself--the vain
fool!--in the handsome woman's favour and was getting on to his own
satisfaction, if not to ours, into the crowd struts a young corporal
of chasseurs. As soon as she saw him the woman turned her back upon
our sergeant, put her arm affectionately through the corporal's, and
brought him, vacuously smiling, down to us to tell the sergeant's
stories over again. She muddled them, but that was of course. We
never minded anything she said; but weren't we delighted to see our
_sous-officier_ so excellently snubbed!
"And where, my dear Marie, did you learn all this?" queried the happy
and smiling chasseur. "Oh, pioupiou told me." And she pointed with the tip of her parasol
at the man who a moment before had mentally added her to the list
of his conquests. And pioupiou was angry; his cheeks got all white
with just a spot of red in the centre, his eyes glared, he twisted
his moustache savagely; he turned on us and ordered us back to the
carriages. But that was not all: the crowd laughed, Marie laughed, the
corporal--another fool--laughed. Some of us laughed, and we paid for
all the laughter in the end.
Nothing was said while we were in the station, but as soon as the
train was again on the move the sergeant began. The first to feel
uncomfortable was the corporal of my squad. He was told that he did
not enforce discipline, that he was too free with these rascals, these
pigs, that he had no self-respect, that he was ill-bred, and much more
to the same effect. We came in for worse abuse, the Hungarian and a
Belgian being made special marks for the sergeant's anger because they
had been the first to laugh when Marie called him "pioupiou." The abuse
was kept up, with occasional intermissions, for over half-an-hour, and
no one was sorry when our tormentor sought solace of a more soothing
nature in his pipe. It is very hard for men to listen to angry words
which they know they cannot resent, and, sooner than have no relief for
their pent-up passion, they will vent it on one of themselves, as I
found out before long.
We had stopped for ten minutes' interval at a station, and the three 荒れまくってるが、崩れてる重複使うよりはましですか。
では、ネタを一つ
なぜ{{複数の問題}}ごとコピーして記事を作る人がいるんでしょう _sous-officiers_ had gone to a small refreshment room after ordering
us, on various pains and penalties, not to leave our seats. Scarcely
were they on the platform when the Belgian, who had been most insulted,
began to rail at me. I was astonished. My surprise increased when the
others joined with him. I was asked why I should be spared while better
men were being treated as dogs and worse than dogs. The visit of my
friend, the kindly sergeant who brought me wine and tobacco, was raked
up as an instance of favouritism, and the rather violent language which
he had applied to others in the barrack room was also recalled. I felt
indignant at the injustice but knew not how to reply. Indeed, there was
but a small chance of doing so, as all were speaking loudly, and some
even shaking their fists at me. At last the Belgian, who had started
the affair, struck me lightly on the cheek. This was too much. I jumped
at him, had him tightly by the throat with the left hand, and set to
giving him the right hand straight from the shoulder as quickly and as
strongly as I could. He was altogether taken aback, and, moreover, was
almost stunned by my assault, for every blow drove the back of his head
against the woodwork of the carriage. Before anyone could interfere
I had given him his fill of fighting, and when I was torn off his
mouth and nose were bleeding and the skin around both eyes was rapidly
changing colour. Before the fight could be renewed the sub-officers
returned, and we all sat silent and sullen in our places.
The sergeant at once grasped the situation. "What, fighting like wolves with one another already! Very well, my
fine fellows, it does not end here; to-day the fight and the arrest,
to-morrow the inquiry and the punishment."
Thereupon he ordered the men on each side of us to consider themselves
our warders. "If they escape, if they fight again, there will be a more
severe punishment for you, whose prisoners they are."
"A beautiful way to begin soldiering," he continued, looking
alternately at the Belgian and myself; "go on like this, and life will
be most happy for you."
At the next station he ordered the Belgian to be transferred to the
compartment in which the other squad, under the silent corporal,
travelled. When he left, to give orders, I suppose, about the prisoner,
the jolly corporal turned to me, and said:
"My worthy fellow, you have begun well; where did you learn to use your
hands? No matter, the commandant will talk to you; he will settle all.
But, my son, what was it about; did he insult you?"
"It was all the fault of the sergeant," I cried----
"Hold, hold!" interrupted the corporal; "take care, you are foolish to
accuse your officer, and, besides, he was not present." 市井の人も黙ってればいいのに
ミラブルといい市井といい自重しておとなしくできないのか つまるところ、われわれは切干が落選するところが見たいのです！ This gave me a hint.
"No; he was not here, and the corporals were not here either."
"Then it was my fault too?"
"Not yours so much as the sergeant's--you merely deserted your
post--but he in addition to that abused the men so much before going
away that their passion was aroused, and when men are angry they cannot
help fighting."
"Yes, yes," said the corporal; "he did abuse people, there is no doubt
that he was in bad humour, and would have abused his own brother at the
time."
Little more was said, but the corporal was very thoughtful, and
evidently was chewing a cud he did not like.
At the first opportunity, it was when we halted for a meal, the
corporal took the sergeant aside, and a long conversation ensued. The
upshot was that I was taken from my guards and brought by the corporal
to where his comrade stood. The latter asked me to tell him the
truth about the quarrel, and I spoke as he wished me to. I mentioned
everything--the kindness of the first sergeant to me and his abuse of [[Wikipedia:削除依頼/あいみょん]]
きっしょ この英文荒らしは15分ごとに投稿されるのか
自動なのか？ the others, his own harsh treatment of us from the beginning, his wrong
and malicious descriptions to the woman--he winced when I mentioned her
name--his fearful abuse of the men afterwards, and I took care to point
out that I was the one who had been least hurt by his tongue, and I
wound up by declaring that, if he and the corporals had not gone away,
leaving us without any _sous-officier_ in charge, the affair would not
have taken place.
"I believe you have told me the truth," he said. And I knew well that
he knew it, for all the time that I was speaking he kept his keen eyes
fixed upon mine, and they seemed to read me through and through.
The Belgian and I were almost immediately relieved from arrest, but
my opponent received strict orders to stay in the centre of the squad
while marching, so that as little chance as possible might be given
to the curious to note his bruises. He was furthermore told that for
his own sake he had better tell anyone in authority who might chance
to make inquiries that he had been suddenly, and when off his guard,
assaulted by a drunken man at a wayside railway station. He afterwards
did tell this tale when interrogated by an officer, and, as we others
corroborated his statement, he escaped all punishment, and so did I.
All the same, the sneers and whisperings of my companions during the
remainder of the journey were at least as painful to me as his injuries
were to the Belgian. In fact, I was more than boycotted by all, and
the fact that none of my comrades would associate with me in even the slightest degree was gall and wormwood to the mind of a sensitive
youth. How I wished that the first sergeant had not been so kind and
the second so sparing of abuse to me. I was glad that in the depot for
recruits I was altogether separated from the rest, and I may add now
that, when I met some of them afterwards in the East, they seemed to
have forgotten all the little annoyances of our first acquaintance.
I wish to say but little now about the rest of the way. The chief
thing that remains in my memory is the scene aboard the transport that
carried us from Marseilles to Oran. It was so striking that I fancy I
shall never forget it.
There were troops of all arms aboard. I need not describe the party I
was with, as I have said enough about it already, and of most of the
others I can only recall that the various uniforms, the different
numbers on the caps, all impressed me with the idea that I belonged to
one of the great armies of the world. Having been, as I have already
mentioned, brought up in a garrison town I at once noticed distinctions
which another might pass over as trivial. I saw, for instance, that all
the soldiers of the line did not belong to the same regiment in spite
of the strong likeness the various corps showed to one another, and I
knew that the same held true of the chasseurs and zouaves. I admired
the way in which disorder was reduced to order; the steady composure of
those who had no work to do, which contrasted so much with the quick
movement and tireless exertion of the men told off for fatigue; the sharp eyes and short, clear orders of the sergeants; and, above all,
the calm, assured air of authority of the officer who superintended the
embarkation.
While I was noting all this my glance fell on a party of men, about
fifty in number, wearing the usual blue tunic and red trousers, who
had no mark or number in their caps. Now the Frenchmen of the line
had each the number of his regiment on the front of the kepi, and we
of the Foreign Legion had grenades on ours. Moreover, these men were
set apart from all the rest and were guarded by a dozen soldiers with
fixed bayonets. The men seemed sullen and careless of their personal
appearance, and when a Frenchman forgets his neatness you may be sure
that he has already forgotten his self-respect. Curiosity made me apply
for information to the corporal over my squad, and he told me that
these were men who for their offences in regiments stationed in France
were now being transferred to disciplinary battalions in Algeria,
where they would forfeit, practically, all a soldier's privileges and
be treated more like convicts than recruits. I at once remembered
what the sergeant whose acquaintance I had first made had said about
the zephyrs, the men that could not be reclaimed. I saw them often
afterwards, and, though in most of the battalions they are not very bad
and are treated fairly enough, in others which contain the incorrigible
ones the officers and sub-officers have to go armed with revolvers, and
the giving out of cartridges, when it can't be helped, is looked upon
as the sure forerunner of a murder. Figure to yourself what a hated warder's life would be worth if the convicts in Dartmoor had rifles and
bayonets and if the governor had occasionally to serve out packets of
cartridges, it being well understood that all--governor, warders, and
convicts--are supposed to be transferred to, let us say, Fashoda, where
there is now and then a chance of a Baggara raid.
I don't know much about the voyage across the Mediterranean as I was
almost, but not quite, sea-sick. It has always been so with me, the
gentlest sea plays havoc with my stomach. We got into Oran at about
six o'clock in the evening, and our party at once disembarked. We were
met on the quay by a sergeant of the Foreign Legion, who showed us the
way to a barrack, where we were formally handed over to his control.
That night we stayed in the barrack, and I suffered a little annoyance
from my comrades, from all of whom I was separated next day, when we
were transferred to our depot at a place called Saida. I do not know
whether this is to-day the depot for the Foreign Legion or not, as I
heard men say that an intention existed on the part of the military
authorities to place it farther south. Here I spent some time learning
drill, discipline, and all the duties of a soldier, and this was the
hardest period of my military life, for my knowledge of French had to
be considerably increased before I could quite grasp the meaning of an
order, and very often I was abused by a corporal for laziness when I
had the best will in the world to do what I was told, if I could only
understand it. CHAPTER III
When we arrived at the depot we were at once divided into small
parties, each of which was sent to a company for drill. I was attached
to No. 1 Company, and though four others of my comrades came to it with
me they did not remain there long. Two of them were Belgians, one an
Alsatian, and the fourth a Pole. All spoke French well, and it was very
soon seen that they had learned something about drill already in other
armies, and, therefore, they were sent almost at once to the battalions
on service at the edge of the great desert. Thus it was that I found
myself the only member of the detachment in No. 1, and of this I was
very glad, for my last experience with them had not been of the most
pleasant kind.
And now let me put on record the only complaint I have to make about my
life at Saida. On account of my speaking English all agreed that I must
be an Englishman, and the Englishman is well hated abroad. Consequently
on the drill ground and in the barrack room I was continually addressed
by the expressive sobriquet of "English pig." Now "cochon anglais"
is not a nice nickname, and though I dared not resent it from the
corporals and other sub-officers I made up my mind that from my equals Miraburu
@Miraburu_jawp
私は人よりも動物とか物とか記憶とか考え方とか雨とか、そういうのを「友達」って呼んでる
ツイッターやLINEで流れてきた断片的な川の流れ方についての知識が自分を助けてくれたら、「あっ、目に見えない友達が助けてくれた」って思う
午前0:09 · 2019年1月7日 in rank it was not to be endured. There was a big Alsatian in my squad
who was most persistent in insulting me, though I had often tried to
explain to him that I was neither a pig nor an Englishman. With him,
therefore, I resolved to deal, confident that, if I could put a stop
to his insolence, the rest would be quiet enough. I determined, as he
was my superior in age, strength, weight, and length of arm, that it
would be only right to take him unawares and, if possible, finish the
business before he could quite understand what I was about. For three
or four days after settling this matter in my mind I got no opportunity
such as I wished for. Seeing me take the nickname quietly, for I no
longer even remonstrated with him, the Alsatian went further than
before and raised my anger to boiling point. At last the chance came.
As I entered the room one afternoon I noticed lying near the door a
rather large billet of wood. The corporal was out, so were most of
the men, and those who remained, five or six in number, were lazily
lounging in various attitudes about the room. I put aside rifle, belt,
and bayonet, for I had just come in from a punishment parade--that is,
an extra parade ordered to men for some slight irregularity--and looked
straight at the big brute, as if to challenge him.
"Ah, my fine fellow, how do English pigs like punishment parades in
this weather?" he began.
"As well," I answered, picking up, carelessly as it were, the billet,
"as Alsatian dogs like this." And I brought the heavy block down upon 韓国は安い労働力と核が北朝鮮と統合すれば入る、
しかも復興費用を日本から取れると考えているのだ
だからこそ、相次ぐ訴訟を始め、相次ぐ日本攻撃を
世界で始めているのである。
究極の目的は何か？
日本を核攻撃し、戦勝国になるという夢を実現することだ。
それが、韓国の歴史観の行き着く先だ >>153
そう。そうするしかないのだ。
それが、日本民族が生き残る
唯一無二の道なのだ
その方法に
最早躊躇も遠慮もいらない
やるべきことを、いますぐやるべきなのだ このスレチ英文は自動プログラムを使って15分間隔で投稿してるな 韓国人の究極の目的は
日本人の抹殺である
その具体的な方法として
核攻撃があるのだ
日本には、米軍基地がある？
そんなものは韓国にもある his head with all my strength. The cap, though utterly destroyed,
saved his head, but still he was so stupefied by the sudden assault
and by the force of the blow that I had time to strike him again and
again. The others jumped up quickly and seized me, crying out that the
Alsatian was dead. And, indeed, he looked as if he were dead, for his
head was covered with blood, and one almost imagined that his brains
would protrude through the wounds. However, after some time he came to
himself again, and truly no one was better pleased than I, for as I
cooled down I began to be fearful of consequences.
When the corporal heard about the affair he told the sergeant, the
sergeant went to the captain, and the captain came down to investigate
the matter for himself. I told him how I was continually annoyed, and
when he asked me why I struck the other when off his guard, I pointed
out that to do so gave me the only chance of revenge. He measured us
both with his eyes and seemed to agree with me. Anyway, the Alsatian
was sent to get his wounds dressed and I was ordered extra drills,
extra fatigues, and to remain altogether in barracks for a fortnight.
Now I wondered how I got off so lightly. Well, in the Foreign Legion a
fight between men of the same squad is not considered half so serious
as one between men belonging to different squads, just as no one minds
so much about a fight between brothers as about one between members
of separate families. If a soldier of No. 1 squad beats a soldier of
No. 2 all the men of No. 2 will look for revenge, and all the men of >>157
やまとの諸君
もはや躊躇の必要はない
するべきことを、韓国朝鮮人に行うべき時が来た
諸君に誰かを傷つけろと言ってるのではない
身近な朝鮮人、隣にいる韓国人
こいつらが生きにくい世の中に
各自が考えて追い込むこと
そして、世界の韓国人を
生きにくくすること、それが日本人の
今すぐやるべきことだ >>163
と当人達がそう思うなら死ねばいいと思うよ No. 1 will know that, and, therefore, at any moment thirty or more men
may be, to use an expressive phrase, "into" one another with Nature's
weapons and anything lying handy that will do a man damage. Sometimes
when the quarrel is more serious than usual--as, for instance, when it
is about women--bayonets may be used, but, indeed, the soldier very
seldom has recourse to his accustomed weapons in a fight with comrades.
But if a dispute arises between a battalion of zephyrs and another of
the Foreign Legion there is but one way of restoring order--call out
the cavalry and the guns.
As the Alsatian and I belonged to the same squad the captain contented
himself with punishing me slightly and warning us both against a
renewal of the quarrel. The story went around, and I don't believe I
was called an English pig ever afterwards except by an Irishman or an
Irish-American, who, of course, spoke only in jest.
Our company consisted of from 160 to 200 men. Sometimes it was strong
for a week after the arrival of a number of recruits, then again it
would go down as a squad or two departed for the regiment. My squad
varied, I think, from ten to seventeen, and, taking us all round, we
weren't very bad, as soldiers go. What language did we speak? French on
the drill ground and on duty and in reply to superior officers; amongst
ourselves a Lingua Franca, made up chiefly of French, especially the
Argot, but with a plentiful admixture of German, Spanish, Italian,
Portuguese, and other languages, including in some squads even Russian, Turkish, and Arabic. What I say now refers not merely to the depot
but to the Foreign Legion in general: every battalion, every company,
I might almost say every squad, had its own peculiarity of idiom;
Sapristi and Parbleu gave place often to Caramba, Diavolo, and Mein
Gott. In fact, before I was six months in the Legion I could swear
fluently in every European language except English; the only English
curse they taught me was Goddam.
The _sous-officiers_ were pretty strict with us in the depot, but the
punishments were not too severe. The favourite one was to keep you
altogether in the barrack and compel you to sleep during the night in
your ordinary uniform on a plank bed in the guard room. That was the
worst of it, in the day no one minded the confinement to barracks--for
what was the use in wandering about a dirty town if one had no money in
his pocket, and our pay did not last long?--but in the night the plank
bed was not an ideal resting-place. I did not get into much trouble,
the row with the Alsatian was my chief offence, and what kept me right
was the dread of sleeping in the guard room at night.
We drilled every day except Sunday, but there is no use in telling
about that, as drill is the same all the world over. Our drill
instructors were certainly eloquent--all had copious vocabularies--and
the wealth of abuse and cursing that any of them could expend in an
hour's work was, indeed, extraordinary. While I was unable to fully
understand I felt angry; by the time I understood every word I was too >>164
前後の流れにもよるけど、友達が降ってきたとかいわれると
普通の職業にはつけないだろうな philosophical to care. Moreover, I am sorry to have to say that I was
rapidly acquiring a fairly extensive vocabulary of my own, and every
time I heard a curse directed at myself I thought one for the benefit
of the drill instructor's soul. It's a tradition in every army just
as it is in every navy, fighting and mercantile, that nothing can be
got out of men without bad language, and I do believe that there is a
good deal of truth in the tradition. One would fancy that skippers and
sergeants wish to familiarise their men with the names at least of the
lower regions and their ruler, in the firm belief that the men will
at some time make the acquaintance of both. That's as it may be; at
anyrate we learned a good deal more than our drill from our instructors.
We had a remarkably fine band. It was chiefly composed of Germans,
I think, and it does seem strange that ten years after the
Franco-Prussian war the majority of a French regimental band should
be composed of the sons of the men who crushed Napoleon the Third at
Sedan. The band played very often in the square, and every evening that
it turned out I felt no desire to leave the barrack. I don't understand
music but I like it. In the square the women and children of the depot
used to walk about listening, talking and laughing; the officers' wives
at one side and the wives of the _sous-officiers_ at another. As for
us, we lounged about at a short distance and made remarks, not always
in the best taste, about the women of both classes. A good deal of
quiet, oh, very quiet, flirtation used to go on, and this gave rise
amongst us to rather broad jests and hints. Of course, many people from the town came in also, and these we considered fair game as well. One
very fat man, accompanied by a tall, extremely thin woman, evidently
his wife--they seemed to have no children--came regularly at least
three times a week to listen to the music. If he and his lady knew all
the fun they provided for us and the jokes uttered at their expense, I
fancy that the square would never see them again. What they did not
know did not trouble them, and so they came as long as I remained in
the depot and I daresay for long enough after I left it.
A very important consideration with a soldier, as with any other man,
is his food. I think we got nearly enough--that is, the fellows who
were used to it got enough--but the poor devils who were not used to
slops and bread were badly off, especially those who, like myself, had
schoolboy appetites. I have seen--this was in the battalion--veterans
leaving part of their rations untouched and young soldiers, men under
twenty-five, hungry the whole day long. Early in my soldiering I
learned the blessed consolation of tobacco. Often when I was more
hungry after a meal than before it, the soup and bread rather exciting
my stomach than satisfying it, I have smoked till no sensation of
emptiness remained. I don't know what a soldier in a Continental army
would do without tobacco. Nearly all our scanty pay went to buy it,
and, wretched stuff as it was, I have never enjoyed the best Havana as
I used to enjoy the delicious smoke when all work and drill for the
day were over and the pipe of comfort and blessed forgetfulness made
paradise of a barrack room. We were good enough to one another. If the Spaniard had no tobacco he
could generally get some, unless it were too scarce indeed, and then
he had to be satisfied with half-a-dozen puffs from every pipe in the
room. I say the Spaniard advisedly, for he was always without money;
he had such an unfortunate trick of getting into trouble and losing
his pay. At the same time I too have had to do with the whiffs when
I longed for a pipeful of my own, and when you wanted to feel the
taste of the weed in your mouth it was very good to get even them.
When tobacco was very scarce with all we had more than one device for
getting a smoke; but there, these are only silly things, not that they
seemed silly to us at the time.
While at our drill we were the most obedient fellows in the world, so
were we too when doing the ordinary work of the soldier. But when the
day's labour was done we were not to be ordered about at the will of
any sergeant or corporal. Well they knew it too. Why, when a squad in
No. 2 Company was bullied--out of hours, be it well understood--by
their corporal a strange thing occurred. The corporal was found one
afternoon--at least the corporal's body was found--in one of the
latrines, and it was quite evident to the doctors that he had been
suffocated. Suspicion fell at once upon the squad he commanded, but,
and this was the strange thing, every one of them could prove that it
was impossible for him to have hand, act or part, in the business,
for some were on guard, and others were at drill, and others--rather peculiar, wasn't it?--had been directly under the eyes of the
sergeant-major of the company. There was a sentry near the latrine,
who, of course, had not left his post, and this man could tell within
five minutes the time the corporal entered. He saw no others enter
at or about the same time, but that was easily explained: a large
hole had been broken through the back of one of the compartments, and
half-a-dozen men could easily get through this in as many seconds,
and, once in without being observed, the rest was easy. Nobody was
ever even court-martialled for the murder, and, though many might be
able to guess the names of the murderers, he would be a fool who did
his guessing within earshot of even a corporal. One thing is certain,
we had a fairly quiet time afterwards while I was in the depot, not
that we weren't sworn at and abused just as much on parade--oh yes,
we were--but when the quiet time came the _sous-officiers_ had sense
enough to leave us to ourselves. Well, it's all over now. The man who
carried the business through died in Tonquin--he was a Russian--and he
will turn up again in this narrative as ringleader of one of the most
exciting incidents of my life.
I did not form any friendships in the depot. True, there were fellows
in the squad whom I liked better than others, but I never showed
preference even for them. One thing chiefly prevented me from making
friends: I was beginning to learn something about the world and
its ways, or perhaps I should say about human nature, for with us
conventionality was dropped when the belt came off for the last time in the evening and we spoke very freely to one another. If you liked
something in a comrade's words or acts you told him so; if you disliked
anything you were equally outspoken. Did a thought enter your mind
worthy of being communicated, in your opinion, to the rest it made no
difference whether it were immoral, or blasphemous, or against the
law, or contrary to discipline, out it came, and generally with a
garnishment of oaths and obscene expressions. We very seldom spoke of
what is good, except to laugh at and revile it. When we saw a woman
evidently very fond of her husband we said: "Ah, she is throwing dust
in his eyes; she has more than one lover." If we noticed a husband very
devoted to his wife, why, it was certain that the devotion was only an
excuse for watchfulness. Everything good was looked on with suspicion;
everything bad was natural, right, and obviously true.
We were always looking forward to the future. When in the depot we
yearned to be with the regiment; afterwards, when with the regiment in
the south of Algeria, I found my comrades and myself thinking eagerly
of the chances of going to the East. Life in Tonquin could not be so
monotonous; there was always fighting going on, and in any case you
got the chance of looting on the sly after a battle or even a petty
skirmish. This looking forward is, however, common to most men, but we
had a special reason for it, inasmuch as we were never comfortable or
content, our lives being made up for the most part of work and drill
and punishment, with an occasional fight, which wonderfully enlivened
the time for those who had not to pay for it. When we had learned our drill pretty well the officers began to take
more interest in us. Don't imagine that they were kind and nice to us,
that they complimented us on our smartness and intelligence, or that
they even dreamt of standing us a drink in the canteen. Oh no; they
were somewhat worse than the sergeants, and if their language was not
so coarse it was equally cutting and abusive. By this time, however, we
were case-hardened, and, besides, we knew that at last we were leaving
the depot for ever, and the excitement induced by the expected change
was in itself a source of joy. We who were about to go went around
smiling and in good humour with ourselves and all the world. The men
who knew that their stay would last for some time longer consoled
themselves with the thought that at last it too must come to an end.
Simple philosophy, wasn't it? but wonderfully comforting.
We speculated about the battalions, about the stations, about the
Arabs, about the Moors, about the war in Tonquin, about everything
that we could think of as possibly affecting our after-life. I, mere
schoolboy that I was, was one of the most excited, and indulged in the
most extravagant fancies and dreamt the most extraordinary dreams.
At last the glorious day came. We were aroused at three o'clock in the
morning, had finished breakfast, and were on the parade-ground at a
little after four in full marching order. There we were addressed in a
farewell speech by the commandant, who called us "my children," as if he cared especially for each and all of us. I had almost to smile, but
a smile at such a time would surely entail punishment.
The band played us out of the gate, and off we marched, about 200
strong, all in good health and spirits, for the little station where
lay the battalion for which we were designed.
CHAPTER IV
We went altogether by march route to our destination. Every day was
like the preceding one, and a short description of any day will do for
all. Reveille at four o'clock, then while some pulled down and folded
up the tents others cooked the morning coffee, at five or a little
after we were _en route_, at eight usually, but sometimes later, a
halt was called for the morning soup; that over, we put our best foot
foremost until about eleven or half-past. Now came the pleasantest and
sleepiest part of the twenty-four hours. We ate a little, we smoked a
little, we slept, or rather dozed, a little, until the bugles warned us
at half-past three that another stretch of dry, dusty, throat-provoking
road had to be accounted for. On again at four until six or seven or
eight, with occasional rests of ten minutes each, and then there was nothing but cleaning up after the evening soup. When all was right and
the sentries had been posted for the night you might talk and smoke if
you liked, but as a rule you smoked first and fell asleep afterwards.
It was not strange that we, who had been cooped up in the depot so
long, enjoyed this march. It seemed to us that we were soldiers at
last, not mere recruits, and dust and thirst and other inconveniences
were matters to be put up with and laughed at. On the road we often
sang; at the end of the midday halt, while we helped one another
with knapsack and belts, you might often hear songs of every country
from the Urals to the Atlantic. Every man's spirits were high; the
long-expected change had worked wonders, and the officers, nay, even
the sergeants and the corporals, had little of abuse or swearing
for us. True, our _sous-officiers_ were not drill instructors; of
all things in the world teaching is the most wearing on the temper,
and perhaps that is why there was so great a difference between the
sergeants in the depot and the sergeants on the march.
I think we did on an average about three miles an hour. It was good
enough too, for there were the rifle and the knapsack to be carried,
and the greatcoat and the blanket and the ammunition, and all the other
impedimenta of the soldier. The straps of the knapsack galled me a bit,
and I soon found out the difference between a march out from barracks
for a few hours and a day-after-day tramp through the heat and the dust
with the knowledge that you carried your bed and most of your board ■ このスレッドは過去ログ倉庫に格納されています
