This was excellent news. Leave is our greatest joy in the army. At once we commenced to plan out days of fun and nights of glory. All were rather secret about their arrangements. They were scheming out timetables in which not one lady but many were involved. Nobby, however, confided to me that he was going off to see rather a pretty widow. She was good fun, and had lots of brass. (Nobby was after the brass.) Beefy whispered that he had a wonderful woman in Cambridge, and another in Bath. He was going to see both. Tosher, thoroughly practical, decided to investigate the claims of Scottish girls, and see whether a Scottish wife would be a sound investment for his dollars and his affections. Even Billy, the padre, was after a girl—a V.A.D. commandant, slightly over the popular age, but ‘a fine woman, a fine woman,’ as Billy confidentially remarked. Ginger announced that he was going to have a quiet holiday at the Sweetville Hotel. I said nothing, but thought of—the barmaid.
My own arrangements were not decided. Like that of every soldier, my visiting list was rather heavy, and in my address-book were the names of pre-war charmers and war charmers. To see them all was quite impossible. Fours days did not allow of that. Like a sub-editor, I had ‘to cut down,’ and eventually arrived at a very brief, yet interesting, programme. Having learnt something about organisation at the school, I knew how essential it was that there should be no hitch. So I sent off the following telegrams:
Mrs Brown,
Rustic Manor, Berks.
Getting short leave, but want to go to London to see tailors. Hope you don’t mind.
John.
Miss Charming,
Cheer-’em-up Revue,
Tiddlewinks Theatre, London.
Getting leave. See you Thursday. Will arrange joy-ride and supper at Ciro’s. Wire if all right.