GERMAN MILITARY SERVICE.
[To Tax EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] enclose a translation of an extract from a letter from a German boy addressed to his grandparents on joining his regiment to go through his one year of military service as an Einjahriger Freiwilliger, as he is termed in his own country. The youth is nineteen years of age, and since leaving school, about one year ago, has been engaged as a clerk in a merchant's office. He was what we should call a public- school boy, and was when he left school in what would corre- spond to our upper fifth class. The letter should interest your readers, and will show them how thorough is the training that every German boy of the well-to-do educated class has to undergo for his country's benefit—and his own.—I am, Sir, " LIEBE GROSSBLTERN,- As you know, I have joined an artillery raiment, and our duties are very strenuous. From four in the morning till half-past eight at night we are constantly on our legs. From 4.30 to half-past six we work in the stables, rubbing down horses and feeding them, cleaning the stables, harness, and saddles ; and we are expected to do it all with such vigour that our coats are wet on the outside. Any ordinary person would be about done for after that. Then -we have lectures from the Lieutenant until half-past eight From 8.45 to 9.30 riding ; from 9.30 to 10 washing the horses, rubbing them down, &c.; from ten to eleven is drill. Dead tired we march off to our dinner. At a quarter to one is roll-call. After that again work in the stable until half-past two; from three to five drill on the horizontal bar or firing exercises ; from 5.30 to 6.30 again stables, feeding the horses, cleaning stables, cutting fodder, &c. After that we go home, but scarcely have you taken off your uniform and crawled with great effort into an undress coat, than you have to sit down to study. It is almost necessary to put bits of wood into your eyes to keep them open. The last effort is spent in rousing your- self enough to have supper, a hard piece of work in spite of the hunger, and after that you drop into that most beautiful posses- sion of the present age,—the bed ! The very thought of it is simply dazzling. But short is the joy ; already at four you are again disturbed by that most awful instrument of torture,—the alarm-clock. You are really just as tired as you were eight hours ago, but you pull yourself together, and once up and at work with the horses, sweating as if in a. Turkish bath, all sleepi- ness departs as if by magic. But it is a fine life, all the same. The few free minutes are full of fun, with all the stories the other comrades tell of the wonderful things they have done or are going to do. And when you consider how healthy this sort of life is, I feel jolly thankful that I have strong, straight limbs and was able to become a soldier."
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