"Well, if any of you lubbers can tell me where a D.C.M. truly came aboard in a ship-shape manner; that is, up the after gangplank, and piped over the side, then h'I will strike my colors and lay up on a lee shore for a keel 'auling."
Ikey had just taken a long, indrawn breath, and his cheeks were puffed out like a balloon, preparatory to blowing it into the harmonica which he had at his lips. But he paused, and, removing the musical instrument of torture, exploded:
"Blime me, I know a bloke who won a D.C.M., and it wasn't accidental or lucky, either. I was right out in front with him. Blime me, I sure had the wind-up, but with French it was 'Business as usual.' He just carried on."
The rest chirped in, "Come on, Ikey, let's have the story."
"I will if you'll just let me play this one tune first," answered Ikey.
He started in and was accompanied by a dismal, moaning howl from Jim. Ikey had been playing about a minute, when the Orderly Sergeant poked his head in the door of the billet, and said:
"The Captain says to stop that infernal noise."
Highly insulted, Ikey stopped playing and said, "Some people 'ave no idea of music." The gun's crew unanimously agreed with him.
Somewhat mollified, he started:
"Corporal French is the same bloke who just returned from Blighty and joined the 3rd Section yesterday.