“What the hell are they talking about?” said the subaltern to the sergeant.
The lance-corporal nudged me. “Did you understand?”
“Yes,” said I.
“Tell him again,” he said. “Go on.”
So again I begged his pardon and explained what the peasants had told him. He looked at me for a moment oddly. I admit that it wasn’t usual for a private to address his officer on parade without being first spoken to. But this was war, the world war, and the old order changeth. Anyhow I was told to ride in front of the troop as guide and did and brought the troop to the rendezvous about twenty minutes late.
The Major was not pleased.
Later in the day the subaltern came around the stables and, seeing me, stopped and said, “Oh—er—you!”
I came to attention behind the horse.
“What’s your name?” said he.
I told him.