Post by 2nd Bat on Jun 2, 2010 13:28:38 GMT -5
I have no idea how true this is but a friend sent an e-mail to me describing the origin of the term Tommie and an especially nice poem by Kippling who never served but seemed to have great insight to the world of the military.
THE REAL “TOMMY.”
During the Peninsula War, a representative from the London War office called on Wellington and asked him if he could identify an
ordinary soldier who exemplified the British military tradition in the best way. “Of course I can,” answered the Duke. “Tommy Atkins is your man.” Then Wellington gave the representative a brief biography of Private Atkins (which he probably made up).
All the Duke really knew about the fellow was that he once nearly ran him over with his horse. The representative wrote down the name and his department soon decided that “Tommy” would now be the symbol for the average soldier who performs his duties to the best of this abilities, in the finest traditions etc. etc. It was good advertizing and a great new tool for getting recruits.
Later, when Wellington was asked by the War office if he could release Private “Tommy” Atkins from his present duties so that he could be feted in London and celebrated for his now symbolic stature, the Duke gave them the bad news. “I am sorry to inform you, but poor Private Tommy Atkins received a fatal blow to his head during our last battle with the French.”
So “Tommy” never got to enjoy his new-found fame and celebrity status. But they used his name anyway.
TOMMY
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!
THE REAL “TOMMY.”
During the Peninsula War, a representative from the London War office called on Wellington and asked him if he could identify an
ordinary soldier who exemplified the British military tradition in the best way. “Of course I can,” answered the Duke. “Tommy Atkins is your man.” Then Wellington gave the representative a brief biography of Private Atkins (which he probably made up).
All the Duke really knew about the fellow was that he once nearly ran him over with his horse. The representative wrote down the name and his department soon decided that “Tommy” would now be the symbol for the average soldier who performs his duties to the best of this abilities, in the finest traditions etc. etc. It was good advertizing and a great new tool for getting recruits.
Later, when Wellington was asked by the War office if he could release Private “Tommy” Atkins from his present duties so that he could be feted in London and celebrated for his now symbolic stature, the Duke gave them the bad news. “I am sorry to inform you, but poor Private Tommy Atkins received a fatal blow to his head during our last battle with the French.”
So “Tommy” never got to enjoy his new-found fame and celebrity status. But they used his name anyway.
TOMMY
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!