"Ay; the feller's more brains than the rest of us put together. Reckon it's trainin'."
"What happened?"
"What 'appened? 'If you barrycades, entrenches, enfilades or outflanks 'em outside Amberry,' says 'e, 'the enemy'll wait for reinforcements, an' then smash you with bigger guns. 'Twill be the same at Wream, Bewchester, Lydhirst, Lower Thettley, an' Capper'am.'"
"Which brings us to the sea?"
"Ezzackly."
"Where it's the Fleet's job."
"'Twould seem so. But, as the Sergeant pointed out, the Germans is by birth an' natur' land-fighters, an' must so be met, trained man to trained man. Meaning Territorials."
"Then your plans came to nothing?"
"Only in a manner o' speakin', Sir. In fact, the resolution put afore the meetin' would 'a' been carried nem. con. but for the unsatisfactoriness o' Jacob Chittenden's chest-measurement. As it is, 'e's eatin' b'iled bread an' practising three hours a day on the horizontal-bar."
I was a little bewildered.