Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 12, 1919 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 49 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 12, 1919.

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 12, 1919 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 49 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 12, 1919.

“Only one pair of gloves left, Sir,” he said.  “Gloves, woollen, knitted, pairs one, one-and-tenpence.”

“Thank you very much,” I said.  “They’ll do nicely.  I’ll take them now.”

But of course I didn’t.  At 15.00 was in another building, watching another Corporal make out an indent in quadruplicate for gloves, woollen, knitted, officers, for the use of, pairs one.  At 15.05 I was in another building, getting the indent stamped and countersigned.  At 15.12 I was in another building, exchanging it for a buff form in duplicate.  At 15.20 I re-entered the Issue Department and went through the motions of taking up the gloves.

“Excuse me, Sir,” said the Corporal, skilfully sliding them away; “you must first produce your Field Advance Book as a proof of identity.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t a proper Field Advance Book,” I explained.  “You see, in Egypt, where I come from—­that is, I was attached, you know, to the—­well, in short, I haven’t a proper Field Advance Book, as I said before.  But I have here an A.B. 64 issued in lieu thereof—­they do that in Egypt, you know—­and I have my identity discs, my demobilisation papers, my cheque-book—­oh, and heaps of other things which would prove to you that I am really me.  Besides, my name is sewn inside the back of my tunic. And my shirt,” I added hopefully.

“If you haven’t a Field Advance Book, Sir,” said the Corporal coldly, “your only course is to obtain a certificate of identity from the Camp Commandant.”

“But, look here, Corporal,” I protested, “it would take me a quarter-of-an-hour to get to the Commandant’s office and another quarter to get back.  I’m sure I couldn’t get a certificate of identity under an hour and a-half.  It is now twenty-five past three.  You close at four.  To-morrow morning at five ac emma I entrain for Cherbourg....  You see how impossible it all is, Corporal.”

“Sorry, Sir,” said the Corporal.  “I’m not allowed to issue the gloves without your Field Advance Book or a certificate of identity.”

“But what am I to do?” I asked weakly.  “Think, Corporal, how cold it will be across Italy and France without gloves.  I’ve been in the East for over four years, and I might get pneumonia and die, you know.”

“I should try the Camp Commandant, Sir,” he said.  “It may not take so long as you think.”

* * * * *

At 15.41 I was outside the Camp Commandant’s office with my A.B.64, identity discs, demobilisation papers and cheque-book ready to hand, and my tunic loosened at the neck.

At 15.42 I entered the office with some diffidence.

At 15.43 I was outside again, dazed and a little frightened, with a certificate of identity in my hand.  It was the fastest piece of work I have ever known in the Army.  And I might have been Mr. George Robey in disguise for all they knew in the office—­or cared.

* * * * *

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 12, 1919 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.