Soldier of the Queen

Into Victoria Barracks at Beverley, Yorkshire, one day last week walked Walter Campbell, drummer of the East Yorkshire Regiment. He wanted to make sure of the medical benefits due all Britons under the new National Health Service Act, starting July 5. There was one difficulty. Drummer Campbell was a deserter, and had been since 1888.

When Campbell chucked the regiment, Victoria had just celebrated her Golden Jubilee; Rudyard Kipling was writing about a legendary hero in the Burmese Wars ("He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean, he filled old ladies with kerosene"). But, as the Manchester Guardian straight-faced last week, "It was a time of uncertainty . . . One of these government commissions was talking of doing away with the good old scarlet uniform and replacing it with field grey or 'khokee.' Magazine rifles (far too complicated for active service) were being issued . . . Soon even the drum might be threatened. No wonder Drummer Campbell deserted."

The Boer War came, then the spot of bother of 1914-1918, then World War II. The Queen's domains were whittled away, but Campbell stirred neither drum or gun to save them. No one bothered him. Even at Victoria Barracks last week they still did not bother the old man (he was 80). In fact, he was a problem to modern, Socialist Britain--his records, of course, were lost. Someone suggested he go to Chelsea Royal Hospital, but it admits only veterans recommended for good conduct. "How," asked an official contemplating Campbell's case, "can you recommend good conduct?"

Finally, Campbell was told to go away and come back in a couple of months. Newsmen tried to track him down for an interview. They had no luck; nobody at headquarters knew his address.

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