Punch (77.1879)

November 29, 1879.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

249

WAR CORRESPONDENCE IN FUTURO.

No. I.

XTRAORDINARY Intelli-
gence in advance,from Our
Own Stubborn Special.

You ought to be very
-thankful for this letter.
The difficulties attaching
to its despatch have been
very great, but at last
they are happily over-
come. And now to my
plain unvarnished tale.

In the hurry of my
departure I could find
no time to read up the
'' Rules for the guidance
of Editors of Newspapers
and of Correspondents
with an Army in the
field," which you thrust
into my hands when you
furnished me with my
"licence." My object
was to get to the front,
and to tackle my ardu-
ous duty as quickly as
possible. I wished by
my own personal exer-
tions to increase the debt
of gratitude which a grateful country owes to its Special Correspon-
dents. The names of Potssell, Forbes, and a score of others, com-
mand the respect and admiration of England. My name, I was
determined, should deserve a place by theirs, if by devotion to my
duty I could command it. Thus, burning with zeal and good reso-
lutions, I joined the army in the field.

On reporting myself at head-quarters, "Halloa, who are you ? "
was my greeting from a beardless subaltern, who paused for a
second in the absorption of an S.-and-B. to address me thus curtly.
I pointed with some pride to the "distinctive badge" I wore in
my character of Special. He looked at it and observed, " Oh, that's
your little game, is it? Badge, eh? See Rule 5. Here, orderly,
take this fellow round to the Military Censor."

Rather surprised at the youngster's tone, I followed the Corporal
to whose care he had consigned me.

"You keep close to me, Sir," said the worthy Non-Com. "By
Rule 6 you ain't to roam about the theatre of war at pleasure, so keep
close to me."

Before I could express my astonishment at such a regulation, I
found myself in the tent of a Staff-Officer. He looked at me sternly
and shook his fist in my face.

"Now, look here, my lad, I don't stand any nonsense. The
General holds me responsible for everything you write, so I don't
stand anv nonsense. Do you know the Rules ?"

'' The Rules! What Rules ? " I exclaimed.

" Come to attention, Sir, when you address your superior officer!
shouted the Major. "And don't forget to salute when you pass me,
or any officer, in camp, or out of it."

Thinking it better to temporise, I adopted a conciliatory tone.
"My dear Sir, I really don't know what you mean."

" Who the devil are you calling ' dear Sir' ?" screamed the Staff-
Officer^ " But you're evidently new to your work," he continued,
in a milder tone. "Let me give you a line. See you keep it, or
it may be worse for you. You may take it for granted, as a
Special Correspondent, that everything you do is wrong, and. so
you musn't do it."

" But you said something about the Rules ? "

" Yes. You'd better get them into your head before you put pen
to paper. It may save us both trouble. I will read you a few.
' You are not to go to the outposts on any consideration whatever.' "

" "Where are the outposts ? "

" Wherever they are, you are not to go to them. You are not to
go anywhere unless I give you a pass."

" Then, with a pass, may I assume that I shall be all right ? "

" Not a bit of it. My pass wiU be exactly worth the paper it is
written on, and may be torn up at any moment, anywhere, by any
one. When it is torn up, you come back as fast as your legs can
carry you. _ For further particulars, see Rule 6."

" Anything more ? "
_ " Heaps ; You are not to write in cypher, but only to use Eng-
lish. So none of your Greek, or Latin, or foreign lingo. I have to
supervise your intelligence. See Rule 8."
Anything more ?"

" Lots! Rule 10 : ' The Military Censor has the power of obliging
all communications sent by Correspondents to their newspapers to
go to their destination through him. Should he deem the intelli-
gence to be dangerous to the good of the country, he may stop it, or
alter it. In the case of telegrams, the Military Censor will generally
exercise this power.' So be careful what you say, my man, or it
will be the worse for you."

" I see. I am to] trust my letters to you, and if you can't, or
won't, send them, I am to see what I can do for myself," I exclaimed.

"Yes. But, mind, your 'new arrangements are to be entirely
under my control and surveillance.' See Rule 18. And you are to
write nothing, or go anywhere, without my sanction; and I am ' to
give_ you as_ much information as I may consider advisable and
consistent with my duty.' And you mind you come for it. See
Rule 11."

"I do see." (For I had glanced over the Rules while he was
speaking.) "And you are to have a copy of my paper regularly
(Rule 15), and I am to be liable to dismissal at a moment's notice

(Rules 16, 17, 18), and- This is simply shameful! Look here ! "

And I placed my hand on his arm in my agitation.

"Mutiny, by Jove! Striking a superior officer!" shouted the
Staff-Officer. Take him away ! He is under the Mutiny Act, see
Rule 4."

In a moment I was surrounded, and, under a Corporal's guard, was
led back to my tent, whence I despatch this letter. Whether the
Censor will let it pass, I have no means of ascertaining.

[Of course I will. Nothing like showing these newspaper fellows
at once what they must expect.—Note by M. C]

No. II.

{From Our Own Submissive Special.)

Never mind where I am, but here I am at last, fairly within the
radius of military jurisdiction, the Government licence duly granted,
and everything perfectly en regie down to my distinctive badge. I
am distinctively, if not becomingly, dressed in a suit of a broad
yellow-and-black zigzag pattern, while my hair has been officially
cut close to my head, that there may be no mistake about my
identity. The sentinels have instructions to challenge me as I pass,
and I have several times been shot at and arrested as a foreign
spy. But the production of my licence has as yet generally resulted
in my release, after a few days' detention in handcuffs, on a diet of
bread-and-water. Matters are now progressing pleasantly enough.
And when I tell you that I have been introduced to the Military
Censor, who has only cut out three-fourths of this letter, as undesir-
able for publication, you will understand that I am beginning to feel
quite at home at my work.

But to plunge in medias res at once, and give you the progress of
the campaign up to the moment of my dispatching this letter.

Personally, I cannot vouch for anything, having only once suc-
ceeded in getting within seventeen miles of the scene of operations,
on which occasion I was brought blindfold back in irons and severely
reprimanded by the General in command. I think, however, you
may safely assume that the campaign has begun. But to proceed
with my letter.

This is a fertile country, as far as I can see it from my cell-
windows. Of its chief products I know nothing. The dogs, cattle,
and the smaller and more strictly domestic insects, seem, on distant
and nearer view, such as might be met with in an English Midland
county. This morning, in my walk under the sentry's eye, I have
come across some specimens of the Polyanthus vulgaris that remind
me strongly of those in the flower-walk in Kensington Gardens. I
wish I could add any details of a military character, but a fresh
order of the authorities just issued having made any attempt to
gather any information whatever an infringement of the Mutiny
Act, I am afraid I must reserve myself for another letter. You will
be glad to hear that I am quite well, and getting accustomed to
my distinctive badge.

P.S.—I open this to say that the Military Censor is an excellent
officer, and will thoroughly deserve his K.C.B., and any other
decoration or promotion tbat may be awarded him at the conclusion
of the war. I shall have a great deal to say about him in my next,
in which, in addition to some interesting information on the principal
parasites of the country, I hope I may be able to announce that I
have at last heard the sound of cannon. If I do enjoy this privi-
lege, it will be due entirely to the kindness, courtesy, and considera-
tion of the Military Censor. Here is the Corporal's guard come to
take my candle away, and lock me up for the night, so I must bring
this letter to a close.

* Address suppressed by order of Military Censor.

Bx Last Intelligences.—" The cry of Wolee "—Anything but
promising for next election at Bournemouth.