Pick up the step there, Number Three, fron' rank.
'Ep, ri'; 'ep, ri'; 'ep, ri. Sker-wad--'alt. Stan' still. 'Alt means 'alt.
No movin' at all; just 'alt. Right--dress. Eyes--front. 'Swer. Eyes--front.
Stanat--'ipe. 'Swer. Stanat--'ipe. Stan' easy. Now listen to me, me lads.
The chiefest dooty of a soljer is O-bedience. Drill an' discipline is 'ow
you gets that. Stop chewin, 'Arris. You'll be losin' your name again, me
lad. Don't pay to lose your name twice--not in this regiment it don't.
You'll learn a deal of other stuff 'ere; but take it from me it's the
barrick-square work wot makes a soljer. Wot _is_ a soljer? Why, a _drilled_
man. 'Ow jer think I 'ave turned some 'undreds of blankety militiamen into
the real thing? If a bloke can't stan' still on parade _I_ don't want to
hear about his doin's on the range or 'ow he can chuck a Mills. Sker-wad--
'shun. Dis--miss. 'Swer. No call to go salootin' me, Private McKenzie. I
ain't an orficer--_yet_. Dis--miss.
_Private Jones_ (_young and keen, and a trifle confused_).--Good 'evins,
Bill; they carn't _all_ be bloomin' well right, can they?
_Lance-Corporal Smith.
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