A Little Garrison Part 8

[8] A vice-sergeant-major in the German cavalry receives in legitimate pay and emoluments and rations, if married, about one dollar per day. But it is notorious that peculations, hush money, and bribes from privates often swell his income to ten times that amount.--TR.

[9] "One year's volunteers" are those young soldiers in the German army who, by reason of superior education and because they pay for their own uniforms and accoutrements, serve but one year in the active army. They belong, of course, mostly to the well-to-do cla.s.ses, and generally are promoted to the rank of officers in the reserves.--TR.

During the first year of their married life the "Frau Vice-Sergeant-Major," full of a sense of her new dignity, had painfully felt the lack of an "upright" or, better still, a "grand,"

inasmuch as she regarded such an instrument as an irrefutable evidence of belonging to the higher walks of life. She a.s.serted, besides, that in her girlhood she had received instruction on the piano,--an a.s.sertion which n.o.body was able to dispute because that period lay about a generation back. She admitted that she had forgotten whatever of piano playing she might ever have known; but she felt quite sure that a piano in her parlor would restore the lost nimbus, and then--perhaps the most potent reason of all--the wife of her husband's "colleague" in the second squadron owned a piano, and had taken great care to let her know the fact soon after she had become Frau Roth.

Roth himself, probably under the influence of his partner's urgings, had frequently and with due emphasis spoken to that year's crop of "one year's men" about the great musical talents of his wife, now, alas! lying fallow for want of a piano of her own, and he had coupled these remarks with plaints that the smallness of his resources prevented the purchase of such an instrument. These remarks, coming from one who had it virtually in his power to obtain for each one of the "one year's men" promotion after the fall manuvres, had at last borne fruit. One day the aforesaid stained oak piano had been unloaded at Roth's door, accompanied by a round-robin from the volunteers themselves, in which they waxed duly enthusiastic over his wife's imaginary musical proficiency. Of course, the supposed gift had been accepted, and of course every one of the supposed donors was advanced in rank the following autumn, due to Roth's brilliant testimonials of their prowess and exceptional fitness for a higher grade.

Roth never saw these "one year's men" again, but about a week after their departure from the regiment a cart stopped before his door, and the driver said he had come to take the piano back to the factory, the term of pre-paid hire having expired. Decidedly a dirty trick on the part of these young fellows, all the more so as Frau Roth had by this time bragged so much about her piano to every one of her female friends and neighbors, to whom she had represented it as a belated wedding gift from a far-away uncle! The couple agreed it would never do to return the instrument to the makers, and thus it was that the Roths were still paying for this piano in monthly instalments, one "gold fox"[10] each time, a number of years afterwards, with quite a long time yet to run. No reasonable person will blame Vice-Sergeant-Major Roth for the aforementioned tears of rage.

[10] "Gold fox," a slang term for the German twenty-mark gold pieces.--TR.

Hanging above the piano, one could admire a huge steel engraving of Vernet's "Funeral Banquet," also in an expensive frame (the gift of a parting young soldier, son of a wealthy farmer); while antlers, j.a.panese fans, a peac.o.c.k's tail, etc., helped to produce a somewhat incongruous _ensemble_. There was a pretty mahogany stand, on the various shelves of which stood a large china punch-bowl, six green Rhine-wine gla.s.ses (both gifts from other "grateful" recruits). There was also a solid oak writing-table, on one corner of which Frau Roth had stood the cages for her canary birds, just then in the interesting stage of breeding, and therefore voiceless. A huge portrait of the Kaiser, with two crossed sabres and a pair of pistols under it, and a cuckoo clock were exhibited on the wall close by. There was also a big flower table, but on near view it was seen that its fine roses and tulips had not originated in a hothouse, but under the scissors of an artist in tissue paper.

On the floor were to be seen two white goat-skins and three small mats of domestic make, as well as a genuine Kelim (gift from "one year's men"), and a thick plush table-cover, as well as plush draperies, helped to make an impression which, combined as it was of so many ill-fitting details, was far from the one intended.

Glancing at the lowering sky through the east windows of this room, big, shapeless clouds of gray could be observed slowly driving along; it looked, in fact, like a cheerless and stormy ocean, monotonous in its uniform tint. Now and then showers of cold hail or rain tore away from this chaos, and, pitched hither and thither by howling winds, swept across the town or over the desolate fields.

When the rain thus whipped the window-panes and the boisterous west wind whistled and roared in the stove-pipe, it was, by very contrast, all the more comfortable in this warm, cosy room, where one felt like humanely pitying the poor comrades, now far out on the parade field, drilling for dear life in the open.

This was the time of year when the regiment ordered into a shorter or longer term of renewed active service its reserve men, who were then temporarily quartered in the sheds and loosely constructed pavilions erected behind the barracks proper. At such a time and in such weather it was by no means pleasant to be out on the drill grounds for the s.p.a.ce of a whole afternoon, and then, returning, to find one's quarters cold, dripping with rain; and to stand shivering in clothes and boots thoroughly soaked. Those corporals and sergeants detailed for the instruction of recruits under the roof of the big barracks hall, and those told off for stable or other indoor service, were well off in comparison.

For the non-commissioned officers generally, however, and especially for Roth, there was profit connected with the annual recall of the reserves; for it meant increased pay, and it meant a great increase in pickings of every kind. Roth had been detailed as sergeant-major for the first reserve squadron, and he was glad of it. There were among these reserves a number of men he knew to be "flush" of money, and whom he understood how to handle. There were also some "one year's men," who, nearly all of them, had open hands and well-filled pockets.

By shutting an eye, or maybe both sometimes, thus easing the severe discipline for them, he was sure, at the end of their brief term of supplementary service, to have the larger portion of their "gold foxes" in his own pocket. Roth was, therefore, with such prospects before him, in the best of spirits. He was likewise in a confidential mood.

Schmitz was "foddermaster" of the fourth squadron and detailed to the reserve squadron for the time being. He was a very competent man.

Whoever wished to convince himself of that needed but to visit the horses belonging to his squadron. He would have seen them with silky coat, round in limb, and full of dash and life, standing above their fetlocks in the clean, shining straw. His stable, too, was always a model of neatness and cleanliness. Even the walls were always well whitewashed and the grated windows shining. Sergeant Schmitz, in fact, made a labor of love of his duties.

When he went down the main aisle of his big stable, and then turned and walked between the rows of his smooth-coated darlings, it was amusing to see these animals, all of them at once recognizing his step, his voice, his touch; how they turned their heads around, whinnying and glancing affectionately at him if he called to one or the other of his favorites.

There was, for instance, Clairette, a charming little roan, which followed him like a dog, and with her nostrils forever sniffed at his pockets for sugar, and then rose on her hind legs or lifted her left foreleg beggar-fashion. There was the "Ahnfrau," a dainty little horse, though old as the hills, with a coat black as sloes, and which because of long faithful service and because of the shrewd wisdom that comes with age, was in favor with the whole regiment and was often fed some sweet morsel. The special pride of the foddermaster, however, was the "twelve Chinamen." They had been bought in China, had then gone through the campaign against the Boxers, had had their share in the capture of Peking, and had then, at the close of the Far Asiatic War, been enrolled in the regiment. They were fine, powerful horses, with shining coats and strong bones, even if some of them did not reach the height of "Peiho," "Woo," and "Kw.a.n.gsue," but were, strictly speaking, but ponies. Each one of the horses had its special claim on the affections of this man who now sat chatting with his "Vice" at the table.

Just then Frau Roth entered, carrying a tray neatly covered with a snowy napkin, on which stood a bottle of fragrant Moselle wine, three gla.s.ses, and a narrow box of cigars.

"The devil! You're living high, Roth! I wish I had such easy times myself. What's up?" said Schmitz, in amazement.

"I have my birthday anniversary but once a year," remarked Roth, sententiously, "and on such occasions it's worth while spending something."

His wife poured the wine into the green "Romer,"[11] and each of the three raised a gla.s.s of wine whose delicious, flower-like perfume and whose straw-yellow color told them that this n.o.ble grape-juice had been distilled by the sun on one of the favored hills rising steeply along the banks of the upper Moselle. Then they cried, "Prosit" and clinked, so that the fine gla.s.s emitted a bell-like sound. Then they sipped with the air of connoisseurs. The little scene was an unconscious imitation of similar ones they had often noticed the officers of the garrison enact with a certain solemnity. In wine-growing countries they enshroud with a time-honored ceremonial the ceremony of drinking wine of quality.

[11] "Romer," the name of prettily shaped gla.s.ses, usually of amber or emerald hue, in which Rhine and Moselle wines are served.--TR.

The two men lit their cigars, each bearing the well-known narrow band of a famous importing firm, and next they refilled their gla.s.ses. They had another hour until the time for the evening stable service should come, and there was nothing to do meanwhile, for First Lieutenant Specht, temporarily in command of the reserve squadron, never appeared during the afternoon service. Hence, there would be no disturbance.

"Will you be off on leave at Christmas?" asked Roth of his friend.

"Don't know yet," Schmitz replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I should like to, for I haven't been outside this dirty hole of a town for two years; but it is hardly worth my while to undertake such a long trip for the few days, for I don't suppose I should get more than a week off, and it takes me forty-eight hours to reach my home--it's at the other end of the world, you know--and that much to return. So I should have but a couple of days to myself, after all my trouble and expense."

"What is the fare?" asked Roth.

"About thirty marks, and I haven't that much to spare."

Roth laughed disdainfully.

"Such a trifle only! Ho ho ho!"

"Well, you can laugh, of course," retorted Schmitz, good-naturedly.

"It wouldn't mean anything to you. But suppose you haven't got that much money, what then?"

"I'll lend you that trifle," said the "Vice," pompously.

"Say, you must have been winning in the lottery, old friend! You're spending money like water for some time past. Every short while you're making a run into town; you're smoking genuine Havanas; and you're even ready to lend money! At the very least you must have come into an inheritance."

"No, mine is not dead men's money," Roth sneered. "All it takes is to be shrewd and to gather up all the money that crosses your path."

"I suppose you've slain a rich Jew!"[12]

[12] "Slain a rich Jew," a German phrase for "suddenly acquired wealth."--TR.

"Not precisely," said Roth, mysteriously.

"Well, I don't catch your meaning," put in the other.

Roth winked at his wife and then at Schmitz, to show that she was not to hear his confidences; but when she rose immediately after, to fetch another bottle of wine, he said in whispers:

"I'll tell you, if you want to know; but--" he put his index finger significantly to his mouth--"Mum's the word!"

"Oh, of course; don't be afraid. I never betray my pals!"

"Well, then, I will tell you. This is the second time I am in command of the reserves. Last time we had a whole lot of one year's volunteers amongst them, mostly well-to-do farmer boys. You remember 'Fatty'

Kramer, that swine, and Rossbach, whose father at home has twelve horses in the stable, and Sch.e.l.ler, the fellow who was always running after the girls, and that whole crowd? Fellows of that sort, you see, don't know what to do with their money, and I wouldn't be such an a.s.s as to give them their pay, their uniform allowance, and so on; they don't care about those measly few coins. Sch.e.l.ler, besides, gave me a chance to make some money outside of that. The last night before he had finished his two years, I happened to inspect his quarters, it being considerably past taps. And what do I see but this very fellow, Sch.e.l.ler, together with--well, you know--and as I was just about to raise the deuce, he whispers in my ear: 'Don't say anything, please!'

Well, then, I kept my mouth shut, and at noon the following day there was a 'blue rag'[13] in my overcoat pocket."

[13] "Blue rag," German slang term for bank notes of large amount.--TR.

"The deuce you say! What luck! But supposing these fellows afterwards give you away, especially if they don't get their promotions?"

"Oh, they won't say anything; they are glad enough if they can stay away from the army. As to promotions, most of them were not the kind to think about such a thing."

"Well, I in your place should be afraid there might be trouble some time, and then think what a rumpus there would be!"

"Leave me alone for that. Just now there are a couple more of these rich, stupid fellows; there is the son of a butcher in Brunswick whose father must be worth a million or so, and the others, too, have lots of money to burn. What do you suppose I'll make out of them before they leave the squadron? They are worth at least a couple of hundred apiece to me. Well, _Prosit!_" They clinked gla.s.ses.

The gla.s.ses rang out harmoniously, and the next instant they were emptied of the last drops.

"How do you like this stuff? Costs six marks the bottle! Of course, _I_ didn't pay for it,"--with another wink.

"Horribly expensive; where did you get it?"