A Thought For Tomorrow

Any intolerable problem has a way out—the more impossible, the likelier it is sometimes!
Lord Potts frowned at the rusty guard of his saber, and the metal immediately became gold-plated. Potts reined his capricious black stallion closer to the first sergeant.
Report! the first sergeant bellowed.
Fourth Hussars, all present!
Eighth Hussars, all present!
Eleventh Hussars, all present!
Thirteenth Hussars, all present!
Seventeenth Lancers, all present!
The first sergeant's arm flashed in a vibrating salute. Sir, he said, the brigade is formed.
Potts concentrated on the sergeant; but, aside from blue eyes, a black mustache, and luminous chevrons, the man's appearance remained vague. His uniform had no definite color, except for moments when it blushed a brilliant red, and his headgear expanded and contracted so rapidly that Potts could not be certain whether he wore a shako or a tam.
Take your post, Potts said. Men! he shouted. We're going to charge at those guns!
Oh, Oi say! wailed a small private with scarcely any features but a mouth. Them Russians'll murder us!