The young Colonel interposed. “It’s very difficult to deal with the matter. There’s a high percentage of skilled men in our formation. They want to be getting back to their jobs.”
“It’s really rather natural,” agreed the Captain.
Dormer tried to help him. “We all do, don’t we?”
There was a sympathetic murmur in the Mess which evidently displeased the Colonel.
“I’m not accustomed to all this going home after the battle. Time-expired men I understand, but the New Army enlistments——” He left it at that, and Dormer felt for him, probably, with the exception of a few servants and N.C.O.’s, the only pre-War soldier in the Mess, uncertain of himself and trying not to see the ill-suppressed sympathy if not envy with which most of the officers around him regarded the affair.
“Awfully sorry, Dormer,” the Captain concluded, “we simply can’t get our crowd together. You see how it is. When this has blown over I’ll come across and see you, and we will fix something up.”
Dormer went.
The Gunner Captain came that evening. In Dormer’s smaller Mess, it needed only a hint to the youngsters to clear out for a few minutes. Dormer admired the good humour with which the other approached him. It was obviously the only thing to do.
Over drinks he asked, modelling himself on the other’s attitude:
“So that business blew over, did it?”