WE DISCUSS THE SCHOOL.
‘Well, boys, in another week we shall have one pip on our sleeves, and be wearing Sam Brownes. Heigh-ho, my lads, for a jolly time! No more guards, no more fatigues, no more school,’ said Beefy one night.
‘Beefy!’ shouted Ginger.
‘What?’
‘You’re a silly ass. The commission, a bottle of “fizz,” and a chorus-girl form your entire outlook. Haven’t you learnt anything here?’
‘Oh yes, a little. I’m quite grateful, and I’ll do my best. I’m not a marvellous fellow with my headpiece—and know it—but I’ll try to do my job. You’re a wet blanket, Ginger. Because a fellow laughs and fools about, you think he hasn’t got guts. Have sense, you silly old book-guzzler.’
‘You’ll make a good bombing officer, Beefy. A strong arm and a soft head are all you require for the Suicide Club,’ remarked Nobby.
‘And you’ll be in the A.S.C., bringing up the bully-beef. A soft job for a Radical. I know your crowd. You curse the public schools, but you push us into the infantry. Nobby, you are a ruddy fraud.’
‘Let’s sum up the school, boys,’ I said.
‘Right! Lead off,’ commanded Ginger.