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Updated: May 28, 2025
In his military capacity he now removes the chalky soil from the trench with great dexterity, and builds it up into a neat parapet behind, as a precaution against the back-blast of a "Black Maria." There are not enough, picks and shovels to go round cela va sans dire. However, Private Mucklewame and others, who are not of the delving persuasion, exhibit no resentment.
Here they lit their cigars in reminiscent silence, while neighbouring search-lights raked the horizon for Zeppelins which no longer came. It was a moment for confidences. "Old Mucklewame is like the rest of us," said Wagstaffe at last. "How?" "Wanting to go back, and all that. I do too just because I'm here, I suppose.
"Now we will go on to what is known as Description and Recognition of Targets. Supposing I had sent one of you forward into that landscape as a scout. By the way, what is a scout?" Dead silence, as usual. "Come along! Tell me, somebody! Private Mucklewame?" "They gang oot in a procession on Setter-day efternoons, sirr, in short breeks," replies Mucklewame promptly.
There are happy, careless souls like McLeary and Hogg. There are conscientious but slow-moving worthies like Mucklewame and Budge. There are drunken wasters like well, we need name no names. We have got rid of most of these, thank heaven!
Presently the sentry, by a happy inspiration, proffers his bayonet for inspection, as it were a new doll. Mucklewame bows solemnly, and fingers the blade. Then he produces his own bayonet, and the two weapons are compared still in constrained silence. Then Mucklewame nods approvingly. "Verra goody!" he remarks, profoundly convinced that he is speaking the French language. "Olrigh!
After a brief investigation, he produced therefrom a small bag of nails, recently missed from the vicinity of a cook-house in course of construction in the corner of the yard. Abandoning the rôle of surgical expert for that of coroner, Mucklewame held the trophy aloft, and delivered his verdict "There, boys! That's what comes of eating your iron ration without authority!"
The centre of attraction was the French soldier on guard over the water-tank. Behold this same sentry confronted by Private Mucklewame, anxious to comply with Divisional Orders and "lose no opportunity of cultivating the friendliest relations with those of our Allies whom you may chance to encounter."
And it was in this connection that Corporal Mucklewame stumbled on to a rare and congenial job, and incidentally made the one joke of his life. One afternoon a cow, the property of Madame la fermière, developed symptoms of some serious disorder.
Suddenly, in the tense silence, the ambassador's nerve failed him. He bolted back, followed by a few desultory bullets. The reason for his sudden panic was never rightly ascertained, but the weight of public opinion inclined to the view that Mucklewame, who had momentarily exposed himself above the parapet, was responsible.
On these occasions Private Mucklewame collects his share, retires to his kennel, and has a gala-day. Thirdly, the blessings of literature. Our letters arrive at night, with the rations. The mail of our battalion alone amounts to eight or ten mail-bags a day; from which you may gather some faint idea of the labours of our Field Post Offices. There are letters, and parcels, and newspapers.
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