THE SAFETY-VALVE.
The trouble started a week ago, when the eagle eye of a Very Great Man chanced on a piece of paper lying in the neighbourhood of our camp. On being hastily summoned, I could not offhand give any reasonable explanation of its presence. To any lesser personage I should undoubtedly have proved it to belong to one of the A.S.C. people who live next door; but as it was I could only agree that it was a piece of paper, and as such was serving no useful purpose.
Two days later the blow fell. The V.G.M. would inspect the camp, and us in full marching order, the following day.
In the meantime we had learnt that several neighbouring camps had been tried thus, found wanting, and soundly strafed. From them we gleaned some useful hints:—
(1) That any unnecessary oddments, human or other, left lying about in the camp would be certain to elicit caustic comment;
(2) That tired or dissipated-looking animals, soiled harness or lustreless buttons would probably bring about atmospheric changes on parade; and
(3) That pieces of paper would mean indefinite home leave for somebody.
It was still moonlight when our cloud of skirmishers was abroad. The camp is entirely on soft sand, so that burying is a beautifully simple operation. In every tent parties could be seen rapidly putting home-made chairs, beds, boxes, tins and cooking utensils below ground. Personally I was fastening my less sleek mules to a somewhat soiled waggon, collecting odd men who wouldn't be nice for the great to see, and despatching the lot behind a neighbouring wood. They looked very like a troupe of roving gipsies. A sentry was posted in case the V.G.M. should come round the wood, when the troupe would, with infinite stealth, track round in his wake.
Eventually the camp was an absolute picture—not a superfluous article in view; kits dressed with mathematical exactitute; cookhouse spotless, with a faultlessly attired cook fingering his implements in the manner indicated in the text-book. On the horse-lines were stablemen, assiduously raking away at wisps of straw previously laid down for the purpose.
He arrived about five minutes early, but the last tin of sardines was safely concealed, and we felt almost confident. We were inspected very minutely and asked seemingly ingenuous questions, each doubtless with a subtle trap for the unwary. I shivered when his horse pawed the ground and unearthed a bottle of Bass. I was also horrified to perceive the faces of several particularly grimy cook's mates continually popping round the edge of the wood. However, the inspection of the wagons concluded without untoward incident, and when the camp's turn came we felt we were on safe ground. We had that rare and comfortable feeling that nothing had been forgotten. I saw the Great Man start as his eye encountered the spotless scene. Then a look of grim determination was apparent as he began his tour, his glance, trained to an extraordinary pitch of perception, seeking its wonted prey. But no prey was forthcoming. Up and down the lines he went, peering into tents, digging at kits and deputing members of his retinue to test them for tooth-brushes. Exasperation gradually took the place of determination on his countenance. As he neared the end of his tour he was swelling very visibly and muttering to himself. We saw that some terrible eruption was about to occur, and we played our last card. At a sign from me a stealthy figure emerged from behind a bush, dropped a piece of orange peel and disappeared again. As the procession turned the last corner a wild light broke upon the face of the Central Figure. His step quickened as he approached the orange peel. He turned and cleared his throat. "This piece of orange peel," he began, addressing our CO., and rapidly deflating the while. The situation was saved.
We have a great reputation now, and intend to do "Inspections Complete" at a reasonable figure, inclusive of harness, bright-buttoned soldiers, guard for presenting arms, diggers, a concealed spot for unsightly men and appliances, and—our special line—a safety-valve.
