A SIGNAL OFFICE IN THE FIELD
By T. H. Ivers
“Corporal Dawk!”
“Here, sir,” responded Dawk from behind one of the cable-wagons where he had been trying to dispose of a hasty meal.
“Hook in your team and get away to the 2nd Brigade with that line.”
“Very good, sir.”
Dawk turns to the drivers.
“Get your horses in, Charlie; we’ve got another job. Hey! Gunner.”
“What, again?” says Gunner, as he looks at his half-finished meal.