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Updated: June 23, 2025
Again silence, while the rotund Mucklewame perspires in the throes of mental exertion. "Private Wemyss?" No answer. "Private M'Micking!" The "buzzer" smiles feebly, but says nothing. "Well," desperately "Sergeant Angus! Tell them what you noticed in the foreground." "The sky, sirr." "Not in the foreground, as a rule," replies Bobby Little gently.
"'Reconnoitring patrol reports hostile cavalry scou " "That'll be 'scouts," says the ever-ready M'Micking. "Carry on!" Wamphray continues obediently, "'Country'; stop; 'Have thrown out flank guns'; stop; 'Shall I advance or re " " tire," gabbles M'Micking, writing it down. " 'where I am'; stop; 'From O C Advance Guard'; stop; message ends." "And aboot time, too!" observes the scribe severely.
"I hear they Gairmans send signals wi' their kirk-nocks," remarks Private M'Micking, who, as one of the Battalion signallers or "buzzers," as the vernacular has it, in imitation of the buzzing of the Morse instrument regards himself as a sort of junior Staff Officer. "They jist semaphore with the haunds of the nock "
But Bobby scored the final and winning trick. Sending for M'Gurk and Sergeant M'Micking, he said: "This man, Sergeant, appears to be unable to decide when a message is urgent and when it is not. In future, whenever M'Gurk is on night duty, and is in doubt as to whether a message should be delivered at once or put aside till morning, he will come to you and ask for your guidance in the matter.
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