THE PACIFIST
"WHAT do I think of a blinkin' pacifist?" asked Ikey from a corner of the dugout.
"Well, what with this bloomin' war on, an' blokes goin' West by the thousands, a pacifist or conscientious objector, in my w'y o' thinkin', is one o' two things, 'e's either a blinkin' coward or a bloody pro-German. But it's funny the w'y some o' them blighters, with their swankin' West h'End h'ideas back in Blighty, changes their minds when they gets out 'ere in the mud, an' gets their first glimpse o' a wooden cross. It sort o' sets 'em a-thinkin', I reckon. It's either up against a wall in front o' a firin' squad for desertin' under fire, or else they win a blinkin' V.C. for some brave stunt. But generally they gets a 'Rise if Possible'" (R.I.P., Rest in Peace) "sign over their nappers.
"A strange thing it is, but true, those blokes never go through the trenches in an ordinary w'y like we fellows do, it's a case o' extremes. No 'in between stuff' for them.
"Next time you're on a burial party, at the syme time 'opin' that it's not me you're l'yin' aw'y, tyke a look at the third cross from the left in the fourth row as you enter that cemetery back o' that old caved in R.E." (Royal Engineers) "dugout. You know the one by the road. Well, under that cross, rests a bloke, who back in Blighty professed to be a pacifist, or a conscientious objector,—to me there's no difference in the titles.
"When the war started, 'e wouldn't blinkin' well volunteer, not likely; that bloke was for stayin' at 'ome. If they wanted 'im to go out there an' fight, well, they 'ad to bloody well come an' fetch 'im. They fetched 'im all right, conscripted 'im. Then 'e ups an' refuses to fight. Said it was against 'is principles, so they stuck 'im in the N.C.C." (Non-combatant Corps) "an' sent 'im out 'ere, 'anded 'im a pick an' shovel, an' put 'im to repairin' roads an' diggin' gryves. It didn't tyke long before 'e were properly fed up with 'is job, so 'e threw down the pick an' shovel, an' grabbed a rifle an' b'yonet. Oh, yes, 'e clicked it all right, went West, too. In fact, 'e was buried in one o' the gryves 'e 'elped to dig. H'I suppose some o' those college officers called it the 'irony o' fyte,' or some other blinkin' 'igh soundin' phryse" (phrase), "but we knows, don't we, that it were only common ordinary luck, 'cause it's l'id down that if you're goin' to get it, you'll get it, no matter if you're a gentleman's son or a bloomin' chimney-sweep.
"This blighter h'I'm a-talkin' about, never mind 'is nyme, you'll read it on the cross, was in my platoon when h'I was in 'C' Company, an' 'e used to give me the proper pip with 'is arguments against fightin' an' the likes o' that.
"The first time I saw 'im was in St. Armand. Our 'batt'" (battalion) "was in rest billets a-w'itin' a new draft before goin' up the line again. You see, we 'ad clicked it pretty rough at Fromelles, an' a platoon looked like a blinkin' corporal's squad when it lined up for paryde" (parade). "Our ranks were pretty thin, what with the blokes who 'ad gone West, an' the ones sent to Blighty. H'I was pl'yin' ''ouse' in that h'estaminet right across from that bashed-in church on the corner, when 'is Labor Battalion cyme through an' took over billets just opposite from the h'estaminet. My tyble was near the window, an' h'I watched them pass. A sorrier bunch o' specimens o' men I never saw. It fair turned my blinkin' stomach to look at 'em, what with their pysty" (pasty) "fyces, stooped-over shoulders an' stragglin' g'it" (gait). "After lookin' at 'em, h'I registered a prayer o' thanks we 'ad a N'vy. Right then an' there h'I admired the Germans for their system o' universal tr'inin'. H'if h'England 'ad o' 'ad a little more o' it, there never would 'ave been a war, an' right now we would be back in Blighty with our wives an' nippers, instead o' sittin' 'ere in these bloody ditches a-w'itin' for a shell to come over with our nyme an' number on it.
"After the Labor Battalion took over billets, several of 'em cyme into the h'estaminet, an' sat at a tyble near me. Now, remember, h'I don't s'y that Labor Battalions are composed of conscientious objectors, not likely, but this one 'appened to be o' that breed. They started to discuss the war an' voice their opinions about the 'top 'ats'" (Members of Parliament) "at 'ome. This bloke h'I'm a-talkin' about was the loudest o' the bunch. 'E seemed to 'ave a grouch on everything in general. H'I listened to 'im for a few minutes chuckin' 'is w'ight about until it bloody well got on my nerves. Chuckin' up my gyme o' ''ouse'—an' h'I 'ad p'id" (paid) "'alf a franc for my board—I leaned over to 'im an' said:
"'You must be one o' those bloomin' conscientious objectors we reads about in the pypers" (papers), "one o' those blighters who don't believe in fightin' themselves, but is willin' to sit back in Blighty an' let us blokes out 'ere do your bloody fightin' for you, while you gets a blinkin' good screw" (salary) "sittin' on a 'igh stool in some office.'
"'E turned to me an' answered: 'It's the likes o' you who volunteered for this war what keeps it a-goin'. If you all 'ad refused to go at first, there wouldn't be h'any war.'
"H'I couldn't see it 'is w'y at all, an' went right back at 'im with: 'Yes, an' if it wasn't for us volunteerin', the bloody German flag would now be flyin' over Buckin'am Palace an' King George would be in the Tower o' London.'
"'E thought a minute or two an' h'answered: 'Well, what of it, one flag's as good h'as another, an' h'as for the bloomin' King, what did 'e ever do for you, but myke you p'y taxes, so h'as 'e could bloomin' well sit around doin' nothin'.'
"This was too much for me, that blinkin' jellyfish a-slingin' mud at our King, so h'I lost my temper, an' tykin' my glass of Vin Rouge in my 'and, h'I leaned h'over close to 'im, an' said right h'under 'is nose:
"'When you mention the King's nyme, it's customary to stand an' drink 'is 'ealth. Per'aps 'e never did anything special for me, but h'I 'ave never done h'anything special for 'im, an' h'even at that h'I've done a damned sight more than you 'ave for 'im, so tyke this wine, an' drink 'is 'ealth, or h'I'll dent that napper o' yours so you won't be able to wear that tin 'at o' yours.'
"'E got kind o' pyle (pale) an' answered, 'Drink the King's 'ealth, not likely. H'it's through 'im an' 'is bloody top 'ats in Parliament that h'I'm h'out 'ere. Why in the blinkin' 'ell don't 'e do 'is h'own fightin' an' let us poor blokes alone?'
"H'I saw red, an' was just goin' to 'it 'im, when h'a big h'Irishman out o' the Royal h'Irish Rifles next to me grabs the glass o' wine from my 'and, an' lookin' the blighter in the fyce, yells:
"'Well, h'if the King h'ain't done nothin' for you h'English, 'e's done less for us h'Irish, but h'I volunteered to come h'out 'ere for 'im, an' 'ere h'I h'am, an' glad o' it, too, an' 'opes some d'y to get into Berlin with the King's forces. You won't drink 'is 'ealth, well, damn you, you can bathe 'is 'ealth.'
"With that, 'e threw the wine in the blighter's fyce, an' smashed 'im in the nose with 'is fist. The fellow went h'over like a log with the h'Irishman still agoin' for 'im. H'if we 'adn't pulled 'im h'off, h'I think 'e would 'ave killed that conscientious h'objector. The military police cyme h'in to see what h'all the row was h'about. H'I 'ad clicked three d'ys C.B." (confined to barracks) "an' 'ad no business in the h'estaminet, an' didn't want to get h'arrested, so h'in the confusion, h'I myde tracks for my billet.
"The next time h'I met the bloke was when we buried h'old Smith h'out o' the 10th Platoon h'in the cemetery h'at La Bassée. 'E was one o' the gryve diggers. H'all durin' the burial service, 'e stood lookin' h'at the Union Jack with a queer look h'on 'is fyce. When h'old Smith was lowered into the ground, an' the dirt was thrown h'on 'im, the conscientious h'objector cyme h'over to me an' pointin' h'at h'old Smith's gryve said:
"'H'I 'ear 'e was forty-'ight years h'old, an' left a wife an' three nippers back h'in Blighty. 'E were too h'old for the draft, weren't 'e? Then 'e must 'ave volunteered.'
"H'I answered, 'O' course 'e volunteered, an' there 'e lies, deader than 'ell, but h'I'll wager a quid 'is wife an' kids will be proud o' 'im—an' that's more than your kids will be about you.'
"'E sneaked h'off without answering. Three d'ys lyter" (later) "h'I nearly dropped dead when h'our lance corporal cyme h'into h'our billet with a bloody nose an' a beautifully trimmed lamp. When h'I awsked 'im 'ow 'e got knocked h'about, 'e told me that a fellow h'out o' the Non-combatant Corps, nymed Watkins (well, h'I've spilled 'is nyme), 'ad mussed 'im up just because 'e 'ad called 'im a white-livered coward.
"Watkins clicked twenty-one d'ys No. 1 on the wheel, an' when 'is sentence was finished, they transferred 'im to a fightin' unit an'—bang! h'into h'our platoon 'e comes.
"Many a talk h'I 'ad with 'im about that pacifist stuff, 'e 'adn't chynged a bit h'in 'is h'ideas—but 'e kept 'is mouth shut h'about the King an' the top 'ats at 'ome.
"Then we went into the trenches, an' h'I knew 'is finish was near. A firin' squad or 'rest in peace' was to be 'is lot; they h'all get one or the other sooner or later.
"After two d'ys h'in, Fritz got rough an' h'opened h'up with a pretty stiff bombardment.
"Watkins was h'in the fourth squad h'in a dugout in the support trench when a 'Minnie' registered a direct 'it on the roof an' caved 'er h'in. H'everyone but Watkins was killed. 'Ow 'e h'escaped was a marvel, the rest o' the squad bein' smashed h'up somethin' h'awful. We collected the pieces, an' buried them the next d'y. Watkins 'elped dig the gryves.
"For two d'ys Watkins scarcely spoke a word, just went round with a faraw'y look h'on his pyle fyce.
"H'on the third night after the burial, volunteers were called for a bombin' r'id, an' h'I could scarcely believe my ears when h'I 'eard that Watkins 'ad volunteered. It was the truth all right—'e went along.
"We crawled h'out h'into No Man's Land (yes, h'I volunteered, couldn't let Watkins show me h'up) under cover o' our barrage, an' w'ited. Watkins was next to me. Suddenly a star shell went h'up an' we crouched down h'in h'its light. H'I was l'yin' so that h'I could see Watkins—blime me, 'e 'ad no rifle or b'yonet.
"H'I whispered over to 'im. 'Where's your rifle?' 'E answered, 'H'I threw h'it aw'y.' Before h'I 'ad time to reply, the signal to rush the German trench was given, an' h'I lost sight of 'im.
"H'it were rough goin' h'in the German trench, an' we 'ad quite a little o' 'and-to-'and fightin'. Star-shells were goin' h'up all around us. One o' our blokes in front o' me was just goin' around the corner o' a traverse, when a big German got 'im through the throat with 'is b'yonet an' 'e went down. Somethin' sprang past me like a wild cat an' closed with the Fritz. They both went down together. Just then another German cyme at me from the h'entrance of a dugout an' h'I were busy. H'I managed to get 'im. Then our lieutenant an' two men cyme round the traverse, an' gyve the order to get back to h'our trenches. The lieutenant stumbled over the three bodies h'in front o' us. One o' them groaned. H'it were Watkins h'all right. H'unarmed 'e 'ad sprang at the German an' with 'is bare 'ands 'ad choked 'im to death, but 'e 'ad a nasty jagged b'yonet wound h'in 'is right side. We managed to get 'im back to h'our trenches, but 'e died h'on the firestep. Before cashin' h'in, 'e looked up h'at the lieutenant, an' with a grin h'on 'is fyce, said:
"'Tell the bloomin' King an' the top 'ats at 'ome that h'I died for h'England, an' h'I 'opes that my nippers, like h'old Smith's, will be proud o' their father. God syve the King!' An' 'e died.
"We buried 'im next morning.
"No, my opinion o' conscientious h'objectors an' pacifists 'as not chynged. They are h'either cowards or pro-Germans.
"You see, Watkins weren't h'either. 'E were a soldier o' the King, an' a damned good one, too.”