Major Parker suddenly stopped his work to curse Brass Hats and their absurd questions.
"When I was in the Himalayas at Chitral," he said, "some red-hats sent us a ridiculous scheme for manoeuvres; among other details the artillery had to cross a rocky defile hardly wide enough for a very thin man.
"I wired, 'Scheme received; send immediately a hundred barrels of vinegar.' 'Report yourself to the P.M.O. for mental examination,' courteously remarked headquarters. 'Re-read "Hannibal's Campaign,"' I replied."
"You really sent that telegram?" asked Aurelle. "In the French army you would have been court-martialled."
"That's because our two nations have not the same idea of liberty," said the major. "To us the inalienable rights of man are humour, sport, and primogeniture."
"At the headquarters of the brigade," said the padre, "there is a captain who must have had lessons from you in military correspondence. The other day, as I had no news of one of my young chaplains who had left us about a month, I sent a note to the brigade: 'The Reverend C. Carlisle was invalided on September 12th. I should like to know if he is better, and if he has been given a new appointment.' The reply from the hospital said simply: '1. Condition unchanged. 2. Ultimate destination unknown.' The officer in transmitting it to me had added, 'It is not clear whether the last paragraph refers to the unit to which the Rev. C. Carlisle will be eventually attached, or to his eternal welfare.'"
The Italian air came to an end with a triumphant roulade.
"What a voice!" said the colonel, opening his eyes regretfully.
He carefully stopped the record and put it affectionately in its case.
"Now, messiou, I am going to play 'Destiny Waltz.'"