THE CADET'S FRIEND. MISUNDERSTOOD.—You were in the wrong. The custom of throwing chicken-bones over the right shoulder is practised only in the mess of the 13th Bavarian Landsturm Regiment. Still, considering that you had only joined that day, we think your colonel acted hastily. AS YOU WERE (and several other Correspondents).—The executive order for the new combined movement of "About... more...

AN ORDER OF THE DAY. In my opinion the value of the stock letter has distinct limitations. What I mean to say is that if there is in a Government office a series of half a dozen standard epistles, one or other of which can be used as a reply to the majority of the conundrums that daily serve to bulge the post-bag of the "controller" or "director," the selection of the appropriate... more...

MONSIEUR JOSEPH. On the day that I left hospital, with a month's sick leave in hand, I went to dine at my favourite Soho restaurant, the Mazarin, which I always liked because it provided an excellent meal for an extremely modest sum. But this evening my steps turned towards the old place because I wanted a word with Monsieur Joseph, the head-waiter. I found him the same genial soul as ever, though... more...

LESSONS OF THE WAR. II. (The Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate issues its Preliminary Instructions for the Production of its Annual Pantomime.) PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTIONS. O.G.P.S. 42/B/26. November 20th, 1919. 1. General Outline. It is the intention of the Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate to attack and capture the Public Favour on the night of the 26/27 December, 1919. As foreshadowed in the preliminary... more...

HOW TO CURE THE BOSCH. "Yes, I seen a good bit o' the Bosch, one way and another, before he got me in the leg," said Corporal Digweed. "Eighteen months I had with 'im spiteful, and four months with 'im tame. Meaning by that four months guarding German prisoners." "And what do you think of him at the end of it?" I asked. Digweed leant back with a heavily judicial... more...

NIGHTMARES. II. OF A T.B.D. CAPTAIN, WHO DREAMS THAT HE HAS FOUND HIS LOG BOOK MADE UP BY MR. PH*L*P G*BBS. Time:—7.30 A.M.—Once more we set out on our never-ending mission, our ceaseless vigil of the seas. The ruddy weather-stained coxswain swung the wheel this way and that—his eyes were of the blue that only the sea can give—in obedience to, or rather in accord with, the curt, mystic,... more...

THE GREAT MAN. What am I doing, Dickie? Well, I'll tell you. I'm one of those subalterns you hear of sometimes. You know the kind of things they do? They look after their men and ask themselves every day in the line (as per printed instructions), "Am I offensive enough?" In trenches they are ever to the fore, bombing, patrolling, raiding, wiring and inspecting gas helmets.... more...

THE SUGAR FIEND. "I will have a cup of tea," I said to the waitress, "China if possible; and please don't forget the sugar." "Yes, and what will you eat with I it?" she asked. "What you please," I replied; "it is all horrible." I do not take kindly to war-time teas. My idea of a tea is several cups of the best China, with three large lumps of sugar in each,... more...

THE LITERARY ADVISER. No, he does not appear in the Gazette. War establishments know him not and his appointment throws no additional labour upon the staff of Messrs. COX AND CO. Unofficially he is known as O.C. Split Infinitives. His duties are to see that the standard of literary excellence, which makes the correspondence of the Corps a pleasure to receive, is maintained at the high level set by the... more...

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