My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleygrounds for believing this story.The tragedy of war was remote from our consciousness as we assembled at Sandhurst,only the excitement was present. The training now was certainly arduous, and mosteagerly accepted. Discipline was absolute, everyone was a dedicated soldier. We wereat it day and night, on foot and on horse in continual training. Still I never cross theHartford Flats in the comfort of a modern car without recalling those footsore andsaddlesore days. It was soon all over for the happy and hardworking band who werenow gathered together as cavalry cadets in the old building. After a few weeks wewere dispersed, and sent to our respective regiments.I arrived at the Curragh Camp some thirty miles from Dublin with a commission inthe regular army to join my regiment, the 16th Lancers. The Curragh was a depot fortwo of the great regiments of the British Army, the 16th and 17th Lancers, whichwere sister regiments. I had switched my choice between these two at the last momentby persuasion of a grand old figure of the 16th Lancers, Major Sir Lovelace Stamer,who was a neighbour and friend of my mother's family. Previously I had beenintended for the 17th Lancers, because some of their officers had stayed at Rollestonfor a local polo match during my father's brief sojourn just before the war. Amongthem was Vivyan Lockett, a member of the British polo team who defeated inAmerica the celebrated American team led by Milburn; he was a distant cousin ofours. They had been good enough to invite me to join them, and apart from theattraction of their company the idea of wearing the famous badge—Death or Gloryunder a skull and crossbones, won at Balaclava—had a strong appeal. But theimmense prestige of the 16th Lancers coupled with the kindness of our old familyfriend led me on the spur of the moment to state a preference for the 16th.I arrived at the Curragh with the sense that it was a privilege to be accepted by eitherof these brilliant regiments, but in some trepidation that my slight change of directionhad given offence. However, nothing happened except a little friendly banter, and Iquickly felt that the question which regiment I joined was not quite so wardeterminingas I might have imagined. They were all extremely kind, and thenecessary moral deflation was applied with a far gentler hand than that of the BritishTreasury in any equivalent economic situation.It was the tradition of the regular army to assume that at Sandhurst we had learnednothing at all. We had to go through the whole business again, barrack squareincluded, exactly like the last recruit who arrived as a private soldier fresh frommaking hay or from the factory bench. Above all we must take command of nothinguntil we had 'passed out'. One day we were out on a ride in charge of a rather pliablesergeant, a few simple manoeuvres on horseback which by then I felt I knew from Ato Z. With his consent I took charge of the party, as I felt it would do me more good todevelop the habit of command than to ride around in the ranks doing things I hadlearned so well at Sandhurst that I could almost go to sleep on the horse.Suddenly I was surprised by a stentorian rebuke in front of the whole parade by one ofthe Rolleston friends who was a senior officer in the 17th Lancers. What was anofficer who had not yet 'passed out' doing in charge of a ride? The suddentransformation of an easy, charming friend into a fierce martinet was something of ashock, but half an hour later in the mess he reverted to his usual form and attitude. He41 of 424