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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Are we going to touch off all this stuff now, and clear out, or are we going to wait and see?" "I would like fine " began the Corporal wistfully. "So would I," said Bertie. "Tell the men to get back and out; and you and I will hold on until the guests return from the banquet." "Varra good, sirr."
If you may not cut or slash a biscuit, what are you to do with it? Swallow it whole? "Private McNulty?" queries the Captain. Private McNulty, in a voice which is shrill with righteous indignation, gives the somewhat unexpected answer "Sirr, I plead guilty!" "Guilty eh? You did it, then?" "Yes, sir." "Why?" This is what Private McNulty is waiting for.
Did you not hear me say that no one but Corporal M'Snape was to come?" "No, sirr. I doubt I was away at the 'phone." "Well, now you are here, wait inside this doorway, where you can see Sergeant Mucklewame's party, and look out for signals. M'Snape, let us find that machine-gun."
"The men in that room, sirr," he announces indignantly, "appear tae look on me as a sort of body that can be treated onyways. They go for tae aggravate me. I was sittin' on my bed, with my knife in my hand, cutting a piece bacca and interfering with naebody, when they all commenced tae fling biscuits at me.
He spoke as if he were reciting a lesson, with no stops between the sentences. 'I jaloused, sirr, that he wadna last oot the day, and Amos here was of the same opinion. The end came at twenty minutes past three I ken the time, for I had just compared my watch with Amos. Ye'll mind that the Gairmans were beginning a big attack.
Corporal Mather clears his throat, and assuming the wooden expression and fish-like gaze common to all public speakers who have learned their oration by heart, begins "Sirr, on the night of the sixth inst. I was Orderly Sergeant. Going round the prisoner's room about the hour of nine-thirty I noticed that his three biscuits had been cut and slashed, appariently with a knife or other instrument."
The subaltern in charge of targets Thirteen to Sixteen, after a pained glance at the battered countenance of Number Thirteen, pauses before Fourteen, and jots down a figure on his butt-register. "Fower, fower, fower, three, three, sirr," announces Tosh politely. "Three bulls, one inner, and an ahter, sir," proclaims the Cockney sergeant simultaneously.
I've been in some queer holes and corners on this globe in my time long before I ever took on the Force. Seems he has, too, from what you and Yorke have told me. D d strange! . . . I've got a fairly good memory for faces but " He broke off and looked enquiringly at McSporran, who had silently entered just then. "What is it, McSporran?" "Gully, Sirr!" responded the constable, saluting.
Bobby caught his breath. He was just nineteen, and this was his first encounter with sudden death. "Who is it?" he asked unsteadily. The corporal saluted. "Private M'Leary, sirr. That last shot from the trench-mortar got him. It came in kin' o' sideways. He was sittin' at the end of his dug-oot, gettin' his tea. Stretcher party, advance!"
"For first offenders only. That chap's all right. Soon find out it's no good fussing about your rights as a true-born British elector in the Army. Sergeant-Major!" "Sirr?" "Private McNulty!" After the usual formalities, enter Private McNulty and escort. Private McNulty is a small scared-looking man with a dirty face.
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