PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 99.
August 9, 1890.
FIRST AID TO TOMMY ATKINS.
Sir,—I visited the Military Exhibition the other day accordingto your instructions, my bosom glowing with patriotic ardour. Ifanything besides your instructions and the general appropriatenessof the occasion had been necessary to make my bosom glow thus, itwould have been found in the fact thatI formerly served my country in aYeomanry Regiment. I shall never forgetthe glorious occasions on which Iwore a cavalry uniform, and inducedsome of my best friends to believe I hadgone to the dogs and enlisted. However,to relate my Yeomanry adventures,which included a charge by six of usupon a whole army, would be to strayfrom my point, which is to describewhat I saw at the Military Exhibition.I was lame (oh, dear no, not the gout,a mere strain) and took a friend, anamiable young man, with me to lean upon.
"There's one place I really do know,"he had said to me, "and that's thisbally place."
I therefore felt I was safe with him.We arrived. We entered. "Take me," I said, "to the battle-pictures,so that I may study my country's glories."
"Right!" he answered, and with a promptitude that does himimmense credit, he brought me out into a huge arena in the openair with seats all round it, a grand stand, and crowds of spectators.The performance in the arena so deeply interested me that I forgotall about the pictures. I saw at once what it was. Detachmentsof our citizen soldiers were going through ambulance drill. Thesight was one which appealed to our common humanity. My daring,dangerous Yeomanry days rose up again before me, and I felt thatif ever I had had to bleed for my QUEEN I should not have bleduntended. Even my companion, a scoffer, who had never risenabove a full privacy in the Eton Volunteers, was strangely moved.There were, I think, ten detachments, each provided with a stretcherand a bag containing simple surgical appliances. All that waswanted to complete the realism of the picture was the boom of thecannon, the bursting of shells, and the rattle of musketry. Inimagination I supplied them, as I propose to do, for your benefit,Sir, in the following short account.
It was a sultry afternoon; the battle had been raging for hours;the casualties had been terrible. "Dress up, there, dress up!" saidthe Sergeant in command, addressing detachment No. 2, "and you,JENKINS, tilt your forage-cap a leetle more over your right ear;BROWN, don't blow your nose, the General's looking; God bless mysoul, THOMPSON, you've buckled that strap wrong, undo it andre-buckle it at once." With such words as these he cheered hismen, while to right and left the death-dealing missiles sped, ontheir course. "Stand at ease; 'shon! Stand at ease! 'shon!" henext shouted. A Corporal at this point was cut in two by a ballfrom, a forty-pounder, but nobody paid any heed to him. Stiff,solid, and in perfect line, stood the detachments waiting for theword to succour the afflicted. At last it came. In the midst ofbreathless excitement the ten bent low, placed their folded stretcherson the ground, unbuckled and unfolded them, and then with asimultaneous spring rose up again and resumed their impassiveattitude. "Very good," said the Sergeant, "very good. THOMPSONyou were just a shade too quick; you must be more careful. Standat ease!" and at ease they
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