At 15.41 I was outside the Camp Commandant's office with my A.B.64, identity discs, demobilisation papers and cheque-book ready to hand, and my tunic loosened at the neck.
At 15.42 I entered the office with some diffidence.
At 15.43 I was outside again, dazed and a little frightened, with a certificate of identity in my hand. It was the fastest piece of work I have ever known in the Army. And I might have been Mr. GEORGE ROBEY in disguise for all they knew in the office—or cared.
"Sorry, Sir," said the Corporal in the Officers' Payment Issue Department at 15.59, "the gloves were sold to another officer while you were away."
ONE OF THE PUNCH BRIGADE.
On Half Rations.
"Two officers will be received as paying guests. Comfortable home. Treated as one of the family."—Daily Paper.
The italics emphasize our own feeling with regard to this niggardly arrangement.