With apologies to my Scots friends...

~S~

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ITSY BITSY SPIDER

1. At some time during their school days, every British child learns the story of a Scottish King of many, many years ago—Robert the Bruce—and his encounter with a small spider.

2. It seems King "the Bruce" had suffered a major defeat at the hands of his enemies. His army was scattered, and Bob was hiding out ("took refuge in" was, I think, the popular phrase) in a dark, dank cave.

3. Tired, hungry and despondent, the King sat with his head in his hands, feeling sorry for himself and wondering aloud, "What's the gude of onything ony muir?" in his best Scottish accent.

4. After a while, he noticed a small spider valiantly and optimistically attempting to string a web across the moth of the cave. Time after time, the spider attempted to attach its delicate strands from one side to the other; and time after time, it failed. Over and over it persevered; and over and over it was unsuccessful until—at last!—after several hours of sustained effort, the spider managed to build its web from wall to wall of the cave opening, and settled down to await dinner.

5. King Robert was impressed. "If one of the wee-est of God's creatures can struggle and overcome adversity, then so can Robert the Bruce," he said to himself.

6. And right then and there he decided to follow the example of the spider: to never give up, to rally his army, and to lead it to eventual victory (which the legend said he did).

7. Having made this momentous decision, according to the legend, he leapt to his feet and dashed headlong from the cave... totally destroying the poor, wee spider's brand new web.

8. My own personal encounter with an arachnid was somewhat less inspiriting.

9. * *

10. The fourth day of our training started with the by-now-familiar bedlam generated by Sgt. Parker and Cpl. Tomkins. After the early-morning routine of cleaning, shaving, showering, breakfast, and parade, Sgt. Parker told us this was to be the day were issued rifles.

11. "Your officers seem to think you are ready for real weapons," he said, but his dubious look let us know he did not share his superiors' confidence.

12. "But God help us all," he added, "if they ever decide to give you dozey people real cartridges!"

13. We marched to the Armory, where each of us was given a great gob of grease, inside which (we were assured) was a .303 caliber Lee-Enfield military rifle.

14. The rest of the morning was spent troweling off the grease and thoroughly cleaning the exposed weapon.

15. Parker walked up and down, encouraging and criticizing our efforts.

16. "You are going to keep these rifles spotlessly clean at all times," he informed us. "A dirty weapon is a useless weapon and will not function properly. Some day your life and those of your companions might depend upon your rifle," he looked skywards, adding, "Heaven forbid."

17. After our mid-day meal, Parker and Tomkins spent the afternoon teaching us how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble our rifles. By the end of the day, our weapons were immaculate, and we were taking them apart (and putting them back together) with our eyes closed.

18. Next day our training continued, with close-order drills and various marching formations on the Parade Ground. This "square bashing" was made more difficult by the addition of our rifles. We learned to "Slope Arms" (place our rifles on our shoulders), "Order Arms" (take them off), "Present," "Port," and the "Rifle Salute."

19. Sgt. Parker's "dozey" platoon proved to be so inept at all these basic military maneuvers that it was decided not to allow us to carry our rifles to Saturday morning's parade. As Sgt. Parker put it, "Someone could get seriously injured."All the following week we practiced, and were yelled at, drilled, and were yelled at; by Friday we were judged ready to take our wood and steel companions to Saturday morning's muster.

20. By this time I had fallen into a routine of training all day and working off my punishment in the kitchen every evening. Consequently, I'd developed a system whereby I could squeeze time for the care of my equipment by utilizing any break time we were granted.

21. Saturday morning arrived. We had been told we would be taking our rifles on parade, so I gave my weapon a last-minute cleaning and ran a "pull-through" through its barrel, going to breakfast satisfied that it was as spotless as possible.

22. Sgt. Parker and Cpl. Tomkins marched us to the parade and for once we did everything right, causing Parker to comment, "For the world's doziest platoon, you don't look too bad!"

23. The Parade Ground was crowded with participating soldiers assembled by platoon and company. After the sergeants had made their reports regarding their charges, we stood at attention awaiting inspection by our Platoon Lieutenant.

24. The procedure for inspecting our rifles was as follows. Upon the command, "For Inspection, Port Arms!" we were required to bring our weapons diagonally across our bodies, the muzzle to the left about head-high and the butt held in the right hand a little below our waists. At the same time, we had to open the bolt to expose the breach.

25. Sgt. Parker gave the "Port Arms" command, and we moved as one.

26. The Lieutenant moved slowly along the line, peering critically into each rifle. One in a while he would stop before a recruit and tap the displayed weapon. This was the signal for the soldier to swing the barrel of his rifle to the front, putting his thumb into the breach to reflect the light, which enabled the lieutenant to inspect the cleanliness of the barrel.

27. Finally, the Inspecting Officer stood before me. After a brief look into its inner workings, he tapped my Lee-Enfield and I smartly swung the muzzle toward him, sticking my thumb into the breach.

28. A look of disbelief crossed his face, followed quickly by one of anger. Grabbing the rifle from my hands, he presented the muzzle to my eye, sticking his own thumb into the breach for my inspection.

29. "What do you see, Private?" His voice was like ice.

30. I peered into the rifle and, to my horror, saw a small spider anchored in the rifling in an otherwise-gleaming barrel.

31. "Well, Private, what do you see?" he demanded again.

32. "It's a bloody spider, Sir." I couldn't believe my eyes.

33. "That's right, Private, it's a bloody spider, Sir," he mimicked.

34. The Lieutenant thrust the weapon into my hands and turned to Sgt. Parker. "See that this man is charged with neglect of his rifle," he ordered.

35. Sgt. Parker was following the young officer; when he passed me he whispered, "Bad luck, Hart."

36. So, predictably, I was charged and soon found myself in the Company Commanders' office and, also predictably, was awarded several more days of "Confined to Barracks with Extra Duty." And for the rest of my training, the Lieutenant never missed an opportunity to check my rifle barrel.

37. If I learned anything from the episode it was this: that spiders may be inspirational to Scottish kings, but they have absolutely no respect for English military trainees.