As the colonel looked across the still waters of the harbour basin he saw a bier, covered with a Union Jack, being slowly carried across the gangway of the leave-boat; a little group of officers followed it.  In a few moments the leave-boat, after a premonitory blast from the siren which woke the sleeping echoes among the cliffs, cast off her moorings and slowly gathered way.  Soon she had cleared the harbour mouth and was out upon the open sea.  The colonel watched her with straining eyes till she sank beneath the horizon.  Then he turned and went below.[5]

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] A jolly fine show.

[2] The English soldiers.

[3] Spice.

[4] King George the Fifth.

[5] The writer can vouch for the truth of this narrative.  He owes his knowledge of what passed to the hospitality on board of his friend the O.C. the Indian hospital ship in question.

II

AT THE BASE DEPOT

Any enunciation by officers responsible for training of principles other than those contained in this Manual or any practice of methods not based on those principles is forbidden.—­Infantry Training Manual.

The officers in charge of details at No. 19 Infantry Base Depot had made their morning inspections of the lines.  They had seen that blankets were folded and tent flies rolled up, had glanced at rifles, and had inspected the men’s kits with the pensive air of an intending purchaser.  Having done which, they proceeded to take an unsympathetic farewell of the orderly officer whom they found in the orderly room engaged in reading character by handwriting with the aid of the office stamp.

“I never knew there was so much individuality in the British Army,” the orderly officer dolefully exclaimed as he contemplated a pile of letters waiting to be franked and betraying marked originality in their penmanship.

“You’re too fond of opening other people’s letters,” the subaltern remarked pleasantly.  “It’s a bad habit and will grow on you.  When you go home you’ll never be able to resist it.  You’ll be unfit for decent society.”

“Go away, War Baby,” retorted the orderly officer, as he turned aside from the subaltern, who has a beautiful pink and white complexion, and was at Rugby rather less than a year ago.

The War Baby smiled wearily.  “Let’s go and see the men at drill,” he remarked.  “We’ve got a corporal here who’s A1 at instruction.”  As we passed, the sentry brought his right hand smartly across the small of the butt of his rifle, and, seeing the Major behind us, brought the rifle to the present.