my strongest suit. On the evening of my arrival in camp I
would summon the Band Sergeant and provide him with my programme of
work. On Monday he would please arrange for a criminal in my detail. On
Tuesday I would use my influence in the matter of obtaining clothing for
my detail. This would be a very laborious task, involving three
signatures in ink or indelible pencil; but no matter, to a good officer
the comfort of his men comes before everything. On Wednesday I would pay
my men. Rotten job, paying out, but ensures Generous Glow, and no
expense unless you lose the Acquittance Roll. On Thursday I would read
Standing Orders to the latest arrived draft; maybe they had had this
done to them once already, but one cannot be too particular. A private I
know of who had only had Standing Orders read to him once got into awful
trouble through carelessly kicking a recalcitrant corporal on the head.
That just shows you. On Friday--but I weary you, if that be possible.
Suffice it that the Base went very well then.

The trouble began, as usual, high up. The G.O. Commanding something most
frightfully important inspected one of our parades one morning and found
7,528 other ranks under one Second-Lieutenant. All might have been well
if the Second-Lieutenant had not forgotten to fire the correct salute of
fourteen bombs (or whatever was the correct salute). The G.O.C.
investigated. He searched the woods and delved in the instructional
trenches, but never another officer came to light. So he went home and,
after a bad lunch--we surmise--set himself to abolish Alternative
Necessary Duties in a formal edict. No officer is to absent himself from
a parade except by the express orders of an O.C. Base Depot.

This happened several days ago, and the ruling is probably obsolete by
now, but I am wondering how I shall break the news to the G.O.C. if I
should happen to meet him on one of my morning walks into town; and in
my heart of heart I know that one fine morning I shall be cowardly, and
wake before nine, and attend my first parade at army Base. Some zealous
despatch rider will dash hot-foot to the G.O.C. with the news, and he
will come and rub his hands and chuckle and gloat. It will be a Black
Day.

Here too there are minor points of etiquette that vex one. Is it correct
for me, having bought half a kilo of chocolates while waiting for a
train, to kill further time by eating them out of a paper bag under the
surveillance of an A.S.C. ser