With that, glasses of beer start to appear on top of the piano as he bashes out tune after tune, with soldiers singing along. The party goes on until half ten at night when the order comes for the “lights out in twenty minutes”.
Tom slowly stirs from his sleep. Today is Sunday; no drills today just church services. His head swims but there is no headache, his tolerance to alcohol is still there. The rest of the hut is empty, just himself, he must have drunk more than the others as he slept in. He pulls back the sheets and sits on the edge of the bed. Suddenly, the door of the hut burst open, it’s Frank.
“Tom, come quick. They’re digging in the hills, putting their badges in the side of the hill”.
“Who?” Tom replies “who’s digging?”
“The other regiments, come-on we’ve to do our badge as well, grab your shovel”.
He gets dressed then finds himself a shovel and marches towards the hill and sees there, in the distance, chalk starting to form in the shape of regimental badges. He quickens his pace and climbs the hill. Once he reaches halfway up his comrades in his regiment have already started to dig and so he quickly joins in. Great clods of grass come up and the chalk underneath is exposed. By the afternoon, the Post Office Rifles regimental badge is complete along with the other badges. At the bottom of the hill are officers watching the day’s efforts.
“Hmm, shouldn’t those chaps be more productive?”
“By Jove, I couldn’t think of anything more productive” replies the other officer “stirs up pride to see those badges, don’t you think?”
Tom comes down from the hill, grabs a bite to eat and sits by the road looking at the badges on the hill, feeling proud of his and the other soldiers’ achievements. He has been thinking a lot lately, the poster campaigns, the constant nagging from his sisters, mother, wife, his father joining up, the zeppelin and seeing his regiments badge up there on the hill. He thinks now is the time, the decision is made, and tomorrow he will enlist. Later that evening after church, Tom sits down at the piano and plays again for the trainee troops.
Monday morning Tom marches to the commanding officers hut, knocks on the door and enters.
The CO asks “yes corporal, what can I do for you?”
Tom replies after a moments silence “I’d like to enlist in the army”
“Good for you, you will need to go for a medical and all that”
“I understand. I just want to do my bit for my country”.
The CO becomes a bit sterner and says “you realise that you will be a private in the regular army, and the training is much harder”
“Yes sir”
“And once you’ve had the medical, your entry in the army will be immediate”
“Yes sir”
“And when you enlist, it’s for four years”
“Yes sir”
“Good, go to Hut D and see the doctor”
“Yes sir”
Tom salutes, turned and marches out.
He walks across the field to Hut D, walks in where he is greeted by the doctors’ assistant.
“Name?” he says
“Lane” comes the reply “Thomas Lane”
“Wait here”
A few moments later he is shown into the doctor’s room.
“Ah, Mister Lane. Just received a telephone call from the CO, you want to join up. Jolly good show. Stand on the white cross and read the board in front of you”
The letters are read with ease.
“Good” says the doctor “excellent eyesight. Now, take your top and boots off”
Tom sits down and takes his boots off then strips down to his bare chest as the doctor examines him, starting with his height.
“A good six feet tall; well over the limit”
The doctor carries on examining including weight, blood pressure and listening to Toms’ chest with his stethoscope. He sits down and starts to write notes. As he writes he says “get dressed”.
As Tom does up his tunic he is told “you’re in perfect health, you couldn’t be better”
“I should hope so” he says “I walk five miles a day”
“Yes” replies the doctor “a postman”
As the doctor finishes up his notes, he closes up the folder and asks Tom to wait in the waiting room. About twenty minutes later, he is called into another room.
He enters and stands to attention in front of an officer.
“Ah Lane” says the man “take this Bible”
Tom takes the book.
“Repeat after me” says the officer “I swear to serve His Majesty the King, His heirs and successors”
“I swear to serve His Majesty the King, His heirs and successors”
“And the generals and officers set over me, so help me God”
“And the generals and officers set over me, so help me God”
Tom hands back the Bible.
“Well done, you are now Private Lane, 371702”
“Thank you sir”
“Now, you will join the rest of the platoon, the Third/Eighth London Brigade. Your training starts immediately”.
“YES SIR” as Tom salutes. He is now a regular soldier, “that’s it” he thinks as he marches out of the hut, “I’m going to France”.
Outside are the platoon, they have heard Tom was going to join up. The rest of five company are also there, having joined up previously. They clap as he comes out.
“About bloody time” shouts a soldier
His first duties are drill and marching. The platoon marches through the village, people are standing around and watching, Tom sees an old lady sitting by the road and he shouts “hello grandma”. A young boy starts to march alongside Tom with a wooden stick as a pretend gun.
“Come on soldier” he says to the young lad “keep up”
The boy smiles at Tom and eventually falls back. He waves at the soldiers as they march on. The week is filled with so much, but he revels in it, there is more shooting practice and the sergeant introduces himself.
“For those of you who are new, I’m your sergeant. Sergeant Taylor.”
“YES SIR” comes the reply in unison
“Now, this here is the love of your life. You keep it with you at all times. It is your Lee Enfield otherwise known as the soldiers’ friend. It is more valuable to you than your mother or your wife. Hold it, keep it, cherish it but most of all, don’t get it dirty…..or it won’t work. In France it will be dirty’ so keep it clean. CLEAN, CLEAN, CLEAN”
The soldiers continue to stand with their rifles listening to this sergeant shouting.
“So when you get to France, don’t get yer rifle dirty. It won’t work! What do you do?”
The soldiers reply in unison “KEEP IT CLEAN, SARGE!”
The next day isn’t as much fun as it’s digging duties, and the soldiers spend the day digging a trench about 20 metres long in the grass field. They fill up bags with dirt and lay them in the walls of dirt. The sergeant tells the men to get in the trench with their rifles.
“That’s it lads, get a feel of your future home” he says.
Tom looks up and down the trench, then puts his foot on a sand bag in the wall and hoists himself up and looks over the top. He sees the sergeant march up to him and says “lovely view private?”
“Oh yes” says Tom smiling.
“Well, you’re DEAD soldier”.
He immediately comes down and loses his smile.
“What?” he says.
The sergeant explains to the whole troop “if you stick your head over the top in France you will get shot by a Boche sniper” he leans closer to Toms’ face “if that German sees your lovely mug he will shoot it. Is that clear?”
“Yes Sarge” says Tom
“Remember that, it could save your life. Resist the urge to look over the top”
The next day is a bit more fun. The soldiers fill up sandbags with dirt and suspend them from trees. They line up in fives, while they rest the butt of their rifles on the ground and hold the muzzle with one hand. With the other hand, the soldiers place a bayonet on the end of their rifles and push it home. They lift up their rifles in attack pose and with the command from their sergeant they run several metres and thrust their bayonets hard into the sandbags.
“Come on” shouts the sergeant “put some effort into it, you’re not inviting the enemy for tea, you want to kill him”