G.S.O. one moved forward in support, so that if overcome the General could fall back on his centre.
A whizz-bang burst in 94—we were in 98—and the Staff ducked, taking the time from the front. The Aides carried out the movement particularly smartly, resuming the upright position in strict rotation.
The General fixed us with a twin Flammenwerfer gaze.
“What’s that? Not see me? What the devil is he there for, sir? I shall remember this, Captain—ah, Roberts—I shall remember this!”
Pause.
“Where is your Vermoral sprayer?”
Like lambkins followed by voracious lions, we lead them to the Vermoral sprayer.
I was at the retaking of Hill 60, at Ypres long months ago, at Festubert and Givenchy, but never was I so inspired with dread as now.
Praise be to Zeus, the V.S. was full!
We passed on, until we reached a bomber cleaning bombs. The General paused. The bomber, stood to attention, firmly grasping a bomb in the right hand, knuckles down, forearm straight.