The experiences of a pacifist in the Royal Garrison Artillery.
even assert that the army was not so bad after all. A slight deficiency in the rations would arouse fierce indignation and mutinous utterances. An extra pot of jam in the tent ration-bag would fill us with the spirit of loyalty and patriotism. If an officer used harsh, brutal words we would loathe him and meditate vengeance. But if an officer spoke to us kindly or did us some slight service we would call him a "brick," a "toff," or a "sport," and overflow with sentimental devotion. It was not difficult to please us, indeed it was often touching to observe for how small a thing the men would show the most ardent gratitude and work enthusiastically so as to show their appreciation. If those with high authority in the army had only realized the tremendous influence just a little kindness and consideration had on the morale of the troops, much hatred and misunderstanding, much useless suffering and humiliation would have been avoided.
Not that the officer was any worse than the common soldier. In fact, he was