Jemadar Hassan Ali did not forget to post a sentry over the arms on this occasion. For an hour Bertram strolled up and down. It was less tiring to do that than to stand still. His eyes ached most painfully by reason of the blinding glare, his head ached from the pressure on his brows of his thin, but hard and heavy, helmet (the regulation pattern, apparently designed with an eye to the maximum of danger and discomfort) and his body ached by reason of the weight and tightness of his accoutrements. It was nearly two o’clock and he had breakfasted early. Suppose he got sunstroke, or collapsed from heat, hunger, and weariness? What an exhibition! When would the men get their next meal? Where were those trolleys? It was two hours since the Military Landing Officer had said they’d “roll up by and by.” He’d go and remind him.
The Military Landing Officer was just off to his lunch and well-earned rest at the Club. He had been on the beastly bunder since six in the morning—and anybody who wanted him now could come and find him, what?
“Excuse me, sir,” said Bertram as Captain Angus flung his portfolio of papers to his orderly, “those trucks haven’t come yet.”
“Wha’ trucks?” snapped the Landing Officer. He had just told himself he had done for to-day—and he had had nothing since half-past five that morning. People must be reasonable—he’d been hard at it for eight solid hours damitall y’know.
“The trucks for my baggage and ammunition and stuff.”
“Well, I haven’t got ’em, have I?” replied Captain Angus. “Be reasonable about it. . . I can’t make trucks. . . Anybody’d think I’d stolen your trucks. . . . You must be patient, y’know, and do be reasonable. . . . I haven’t got ’em. Search me.”
The Military Landing Officer had been on his job for months and had unconsciously evolved two formulæ, which he used for his seniors and juniors respectively, without variation of a word. Bertram had just heard the form of prayer to be used with Captains and unfortunates of lower rank, who showed yearnings for things unavoidable. To Majors and those senior thereunto the crystallised ritual was:
“Can’t understand it, sir, at all. I issued the necessary orders all right—but there’s a terrible shortage. One must make allowances in these times of stress. It’ll turn up all right. I’ll see to it . . .” etc., and this applied equally well to missing trains, mules, regiments, horses, trucks, orders, motor-cars or anything else belonging to the large class of Things That Can Go Astray.
“You told me to wait, sir,” said Bertram.
“Then why the devil don’t you?” said Captain Angus.