keep
up with." Coming from an Australian that was "some" praise.

I don't know which was the more popular--the G.O.C. or "Reggie."[1]
But "Reggie" took some knowing, and though it was capital fun watching
him strafing others--which he did "full out"--it was quite another
thing when he turned his guns on you! He was a tremendous sportsman,
and it didn't seem to matter whether he was hunting sentries or
jackal--so long as he was hunting he was quite happy--while the
feelings of the sentry and the jackal were also probably similar! He
took a tremendous pride in the Brigade--"I take off my hat every time
to the 229th"--and I fancy what pleased him far more than defeating
Turk or Bosche was our victory over the Scots Guards at Grand
Roullecourt.

If we had gone abroad within three months after mobilization nothing
would have saved "Black Mick"[2]--if within six months it was about
even odds. At nine months all the N.C.O.'s, a good many of the men, and
even one or two subalterns might have tried to save him; while after a
year, if any one had dared to lay hands on him, he would have been rent
in twain by the entire Regiment. And the reason was obvious. Realising
what capital material he had to deal with, Mick was determined that,
whatever people might think of him, his job was to get the Regiment to
the highest state of efficiency in the shortest possible time. The pill
certainly was a bit bitter, and it was only when the effects began to
be felt that we realised what a thundering good Doctor "Mick" was.
Shortly before we went out he admitted that we were as good as any
cavalry regiment in the Army, but characteristically added--"but don't
tell the ----!" A very effective combination were the Colonel and Mick,
and if we didn't love them much at the time we realise now how much we
owe them.

Subalterns and N.C.O.'s were to Mick as a bone to a puppy--he could
chew us as much as he liked to-day, but we were still there for
similar treatment on the morrow! But how pleased we were when his big
black horse played up one day and knocked his cap off!

His language was pointed and all-embracing, and our ancestry and
morals both seemed to meet with his disapproval. It is therefore
impossible to give any anecdote about Mick. When the narrator's
opinion of Mick is added to Mick's opinion of the narrator, the story
could only be told in Russian. "Always have an answer ready," was his
advice, "even if it isn't the truth--like Mr Sharp