Simon Called Peter eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 447 pages of information about Simon Called Peter.

Simon Called Peter eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 447 pages of information about Simon Called Peter.

At 7.10 on a foggy February morning Victoria Station looked a place of mystery within which a mighty work was going forward.  Electric lights still shone in the gloom, and whereas innumerable units of life ran this way and that like ants disturbed, an equal number stood about apparently indifferent and unperturbed.  Tommies who had found a place against a wall or seat deposited rifle and pack close by, lit a pipe, and let the world go by, content that when the officers’ leave train had gone someone, or some Providence, would round them up as well.  But, for the rest, porters, male and female, rushed up with baggage; trunks were pushed through the crowd with the usual objurgations; subalterns, mostly loud and merry, greeted each other or the officials, or, more subdued, moved purposefully through the crowd with their women-folk, intent on finding a quieter place farther up the platforms.

There was no mistaking the leave platform or the time of the train, for a great notice drew one’s attention to it.  Once there, the Army took a man in hand.  Peter was entirely new to the process, but he speedily discovered that his fear of not knowing what to do or where to go, which had induced him (among other reasons) to say good-bye at home and come alone to the station, was unfounded.  Red-caps passed him on respectfully but purposefully to officials, who looked at this paper and that, and finally sent him up to an officer who sat at a little table with papers before him to write down the name, rank, unit, and destination of each individual destined that very morning to leave for the Army in France.

Peter at last, then, was free to walk up the platform, and seek the rest of his luggage that had come on from the hotel with the porter.  He was free, that is, if one disregarded the kit hung about his person, or which, despite King’s Regulations, he carried in his hands.  But free or not, he could not find his luggage.  At 7.30 it struck him that at least he had better find his seat.  He therefore entered a corridor and began pilgrimage.  It was seemingly hopeless.  The seats were filled with coats or sticks or papers; every type of officer was engaged in bestowing himself and his goods; and the general atmosphere struck him as being precisely that which one experiences as a fresher when one first enters hall for dinner at the ’Varsity.  The comparison was very close.  First-year men—­that is to say, junior officers returning from their first leave—­were the most encumbered, self-possessed, and asserting; those of the second year, so to say, usually got a corner-seat and looked out of window; while here and there a senior officer, or a subaltern with a senior’s face, selected a place, arranged his few possessions, and got out a paper, not in the Oxford manner, as if he owned the place, but in the Cambridge, as if he didn’t care a damn who did.

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Simon Called Peter from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.