An efficient company officer must know every man’s name and understand each man’s temperament. More important, he must be able to handle each man’s moods, to instil into him the best and kill the worst. There are men that he must curse, and curse loud and long; there are others he must only coax and wheedle like an obstinate beauty in a ballroom. When there is mutiny, unhappiness, and discontent, never blame the men; blame the officer. He doesn’t know his job, and should get the boot. A well-disciplined company means a happy company. To a casual observer, the average company officer may seem an idle person who issues orders then disappears. Not at all. Every day he finds a thousand problems. For example, Captain Coronet was one day met at the corner of the billet by Private Micky Malone, who carried a black-bordered envelope in his hand.
"My ould father’s dead, sor—can I get a wake-end pass?"
"Your father?" queried the captain, who knew his man.
"Yes, sor, he died wid consumption o’ the bowels."
"But look here, Malone, your father died last year, for I remember giving you a pass and lending you a pound to go to the funeral."
"But look here, Malone, you’ve had about a dozen grandfathers, fathers, mothers, sisters, and wives who have died since mobilisation. You’re a bit of a liar—eh?"
"Ach, sure, sor, ye know I’m dacent. I’ve only been in the guardhouse twice this month."
"Well, sor, to tell ye the truth, Widow Riley’s havin’ a dance for the bhoys. She’s a bit swate on me, an’ she’s asked me through."
"That’s a different story. Why didn’t you tell me that at first?"
"Sure, sor, I only told the truth once in me life, an’ the ould judge sentenced me to thirty days."
"Well, you can have a pass—but, by the way, let me see that letter."
Malone hesitated, then handed the captain the black-bordered epistle. This the company officer carefully perused. A smile crept over his face as he remarked—"Look here, Malone, this is the same letter that Cameron, M’Haggis, and Muldoon showed me when they wanted leave for a funeral."
"Well, you won’t pass it round any more, understand!" said the captain, tearing it up.
"Yis, sor," replied Malone, saluting smartly, and marching off to report to his cronies how the captain had collared this general service document.