Very proper Cook (horrified at reports of German atrocities). "Really, Mum, it seems as if the Germans are not at all the thing."
II.
I have said that our motto is "Soldier and Civilian Too." That is our strength and our weakness; our weakness because it leaves us a little uncertain as to how we stand in matters of discipline.
I happened to be Corporal of the Guard the other evening—a delightful position. For the first time I had a little authority. True I sometimes give the man next to me a prod in the wind and whisper, "Form fours, idiot," but it is an unofficial prod, designed to save him from the official fury. Now for the first time I was in power, with the whole strength of military law behind me. So of course I got busy. As soon as the first guard had been set, and the rest of them, with their distinguished corporal and commonplace sergeant, were in the guard tent, I let meself go.
"Now then, my lad," I said to one, "look alive. Just clear this tent a bit, and then fetch some straw for my bed to-night. When you've done that, I'll think of something else for you. We've all got to work these days. Bustle up."
Without looking up from the paper he was straining his eyes to read, he murmured lazily, "Oh, go and boil your head," and bent still lower over the news. The others sniggered.
For a moment I was taken aback. Then I saw that there was only one dignified thing to do. I went out and consulted my solicitor.
"James," I said, as soon as I had found him, "I desire your advice. Free," I added as an afterthought.
"Go on," said James, sitting up and putting the tips of his fingers together.
"It is like this. I am Corporal of the Guard." James looked impressed. "Corporal of the Guard," I repeated; "a responsible position. Practically the whole safety of the camp depends upon me. In the interests of that safety I found it necessary to give some orders just now. The reply I received was, 'Go and boil your head.' What ought I to do?"
James was thoughtful for a little.
"It depends," he said at last.
"How depends?" I asked indignantly. "He told me to go and boil my———"
"Exactly. So that it depends on who told you. If it was the Sergeant of the Guard whom you accidentally addressed———"
"Help!" I murmured, struck by a horrible fear.
"In that case," went on James, "it would be your duty to obey orders. Obtaining a large saucepan of fresh water, you would heat it to, approximately, 212 degrees Fahrenheit, at which point bubbles would begin to appear upon the surface of the pan. Then, immersing the head until the countenance assumed a ripe beetroot colour, you would return it to the Sergeant of the Guard, salute, and ask him if he had any further instructions to give you... No," added James, "I think I am wrong there. It would not be necessary for you to salute. Only commissioned officers are saluted in the British Army."
I had been thinking furiously while James was speaking.
"It wasn't the sergeant," I said eagerly. "I'm sure it wasn't. I noticed him particularly when we were forming up. No, James, it was an ordinary private."
"In that case the position is more complicated. On the whole I think it would be your duty to convene a court-martial and have the fellow shot."
I looked at my watch.
"How long does it take to convene
