On guard. Rest. Now, when I snap my fingers I want to see you come to the
high port and get roun' me _like lightning_. Some of you men seem to be
treatin' this bizness in a light-'earted way. We don't do _this_ work to
prevent you gettin' into mischief. Not much. Wotjer join the army for? To
fight. Right. I shows yer how to fight. 'Ow many Fritzes jer think I've
killed, by teachin' rookies the proper use of the baynit? This is _the
goods_. 'Ow are we goin' to win this bloomin' war? With the rifle? No. With
bombs? No. With machine guns? No. 'Ow then? By turnin' 'em out with the
baynit. Cold steel. That's it. An' I'll show yer where to pop it in, me
lads--three inches of it. That's all you want--three inches ... (_For sheer
bloodthirstiness there is no patter like that of the Bayonet Department._)

V.

_Bombing Officer._--Sit down. Smoke if you want to--and listen. My job is
to teach you fellers all about what has turned out to be of the highest
importance in this trench warfare, namely, bombs and grenades. This is a
trench war; has been for three years. The nature of the fighting may alter,
of course. We all hope it will. But we must think of _trenches_ at the
moment. Now, the German is a clever feller, and he soon saw that you'd
never kill off the enemy if you just sat down behind a parapet with a rifle
in your hand. So he started inventing and developing these things. But
we're catching him up. We've caught him up. Now, this is a Mills ...

VI.

_The Adjutant_ (_after two hours' extended order drill and attack
practice_).--Just sit down. Close in a bit. Light your pipes if you wish.
Let me tell you that the sort of work we've been doing this afternoon is
the _only_ way we're ever going to finish off the Hun--absolutely. You can