“What choice is there?”
“Ferro-prussiate or ferro-gallic.”
“Eh?”
“D’you want ferro-prussiate or ferro-gallic?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Brown lines or white on blue?”
“I think it had better be the ferro-whatsit, white on blue.”
And he departed, a little wiser and somewhat chastened.
Drafting skills and the associated engineering knowledge were not generally appreciated; an Indian corporal, a Company Office clerk, a baboo, looked in one day, viewed the work being done and said with an air of complete confidence in his abilities, “You show me sergeant -- three days I do your job.”
The DO was supplied with a bike, an army version, heavy and unwieldy. Most bikes we were used to in Britain were equipped with two hand brakes but this one had a coaster brake, trying to pedal backwards would apply the brake to the back wheel. Riding a bike in Iraq presented some difficulties, the terrain was a mixture of hard ground and loose sand, not always easy to tell apart, and loose sand would quickly bring you to a halt. One day before the hot weather began I was wearing battledress but not gaiters; I rode off across the desert; almost simultaneously my trouser leg got caught between the chain and the sprocket, the bike found some loose sand and I fell off. Lying on the ground attached to the bike I tried to disentangle myself but with the coaster brake I couldn’t reverse the direction. There was nothing for it but to wind my trouser leg right around the sprocket, not an easy task when you’re lying on the ground attached to a heavy bike. The trouser leg was not badly damaged, some minor perforations but a lot of black grease. Usually after that I walked.