Gongs

By Lieut.-Col. V. PENIAKOFF

E Francais est un monsieur decore qui redemanae du pain et ignore la geographie." That was all I cared about decorations when, I was told, as a newly com-

missioned second lieutenant, that Middle East orders were that "ribbons" should be worn: under compulsion I pinned above my shirt-pocket a clumsy metal brooch upholstered with the two ribbons of the first war. ,1 At the Gezirah Club an unknown subaltern, twenty years my

junior, came up to tell me blandly that my batman must have blundered and fixed my ribbons the wrong way round. Abashed, I mended the mistake in the dressing-room and returned to my drink ; whereupon another subaltern, excessively apologetic, asked permission to point out that it was more usual to wear the yellowy ribbon first, the rainbowy one last. (To this day I don't know the names of those ribbons nor what they stand for.) Suspecting then that the object of Middle East Headquarters had been to pro- vide these youngsters with uncharitable fun, I slipped the brooch into a waste-paper basket and walked out ribbonless.

A year later, in Cairo, back for a few days from a solitary spell

of duty in enemy territory where my knowledge of the ways of the British Army had not increased, I was asked to provide certain par- ticulars about myself. "And if you want to get your M.C. before you go out again," said my Commanding Officer ferociously, "you had better write these things down now." I did so without a question, for I suspected an obscure hoax or, perhaps, in army slang, M.C. stood for something very different from Military Cross, and anyway, although I thought well enough of my achievements, I felt innocent of any act of valour which might deserve an award.

Some days later the C.O. mentioned casually that I could now

buy myself a Military Cross ribbon. "And mind you wear it," he added pointedly, as if he knew about the former incident—which would not surprise me considering the'thoroughness of army gossip. I wore it indeed. I was, to my amazement, so blithely happy that I hugged myself for days, and wondered how I could have mis- judged so completely the legendary Frenchman. How the thing had happened I didn't try and find out ; some angel, or perhaps God himself, had taken a hand—no human would have troubled to give me so much pleasure in such an off-hand manner.

Months passed ; I now commanded a unit of my own. What we

achieved fell far short of my wish: I didn't think much of myself as a commander or of my men as soldiers. One morning my second in command, with a sergeant and a corporal, set out to reconnoitre some enemy positions over a rocky ridge. Ordered to be back by nine, they were still out by eleven. Pretty despondent, I watched the track, certain that they had run blindly into trouble. The sergeant appeared alone, swinging a German field telephone. " Well ? " I said, too annoyed to say more.

"I've tried to win a V.C.," Said the sergeant, very sheepishly. "Liberating a telephone ? And where are the others ? "

"It's most unfortunate. I have lost them," he replied, trying so hard to be contrite that I felt there was more to it than a telephone. They had apparently got entangled in a maze of gullies ; then decided to split up and try independently for a route to the ton of the

ridge. "Just one of those silly amateurish things we are constantly doing," I thought. "We are hopeless."

The sergeant said he had scrambled up a peak, and over the top he tumbled into a small hollow where three Germans were busy watching the progress of our captain, further off. He had shot dead the surprised Germans with his automatic, smashed their machine-gun and their rifles, and, having taken a long look at the enemy position down over the ridge, he then came back to us with the telephone—as a kind of scalp, I suppose. As he finished the tale of his misfortunes the rest of the party turned up and confirmed it with a flourish ; they were too pleased with themselves to be hurt at the things I said.

Later I thought it over ; against the rules, to be sure, and, in a manner, by mistake, the sergeant had got what we wanted—and more. Perhaps he was not altogether to blame ; perhaps he hadn't done badly. How unfortunate that the dispensing of medals should be in the hands of angels. He might have been pleased to get one ; it might have encouraged our men to keep a cool head and to be quick on the trigger. When I told the story at Headquarters, some- one said: "You could get him a Military Medal."

"Could I now ? " I asked. " How ? "

"Fill in Army Form W 3121 and forward it to the General." I looked at the form which turned me into an angel. . . .

The sergeant was an old hand. When I handed him a small parcel, saying, "Here is a piece of ribbon for you," he replied: "Thank you, sir, much obliged," and I never knew for certain if he liked it or .not. But although he did not believe in angels and knew all about A.F. W 3121, I believe he was well pleased.

We all appreciated ribbons—some of them. We were prepared to perjure ourselves to be allowed to wear a buff one with blue

and red stripes, provided we could mount on it a small metal " ; but if the figure had to be a" 1," we preferred to forgo the ribbon altogether. None of us had any use for the "Italy Star," and we poked fun at the Americans who received, as we maintained un- kindly, a fresh campaign medal every three months and the "Purple Heart" whenever, being drunk, they got hurt falling off a truck ; but an M.C. or an M.M. assured the wearer (and warned the world) that he belonged to the select band of fighting men, and not to the obscure tribes who run errands in Headquarters—an "Africa Star " with an "8," showing that, at some time, he had been a member of an army which considered itself socially superior to all others ; in essence, Old School Tie.

Julius Caesar rewarded his good chaps with a gift of land ; the Royal Navy, until quite recently, paid prize-money, but a com- mander in a modern army has to manage with less expensive rewards. Each time he recommends someone for an award, he is playing on the vanity and the snobbery of his command—and his own—for the unit and its commander receive reflected distinction from the honour done to one of its members. But God forbid anyone should believe that we were conscious of what we were doing. What we had in mind was "I should like to give Corporal White, who has done pretty well, a tangible sign of our apprecia- tion. I cannot promote him, for there is no room on our establish- ment for one more sergeant. I can't increase his pay. But I am sure he would be 'Very pleased with an M.M. (if I can get him one), and anyway he jolly well deserves one." Or: "I can't afford to send 'S' Patrol on leave, though they are going rather stale, having been in action for over three months. Perhaps an award to one of them will help to maintain their morale."

Thus happy units received fewer decorations than shaky ones, and some privileged commanders, from whom a word of praise was worth more than a medal, never bothered to recommend any- one at all. On the other hand I know an officer who, although rather unmindful of his men, enjoyed so much writing citations, which he did with compelling persuasion, that in due course practically every member of his regiment received a medal or two. He• was, no doubt, an exception, for towards the end of the war unit commanders in a certain theatre of operations received a confidential letter to the effect that, although, as previously, every- thing was in short supply, the current allotment of awards had not been filled, and would they do somethine about it.