orficers, I
reckoned they was, along o' the silver lace on their collars. One
was wearin' one o' them coal-scuttle helmets, t'other a little
flat cap with a shiny peak. And the Captain here was a-pointin'
at our lines and a-wavin' his hand about like he was a-tellin'
the two Fritzes all about it, and the chap in the coal-scuttle
hat was a-writin' it all down in a book."
Barling paused. He was rather flushed and his eyes burned
brightly in his weather-beaten face.
"Eighteen year I done in the Royal Regiment," he went on, and his
voice trembled a little, "and me father a battery sergeant-major
before me, and I never thought to see one of our orficers go over
to the enemy. Fritz was beginnin' to come back to his front line:
I could see their coal-scuttle hats a-bobbin' up and down the
communication trenches, so I crawled back the way I come and made
a bolt for our lines.
"I meant to go straight to the B.C. post and report wot I seen to
the Major. But I hadn't the heart to, gentlemen, when I was up
against it. It was an awful charge to bring against an orficer,
d'you see? I told myself I didn't know but what the Captain
hadn't been taken prisoner and was makin' the best of it, w'en I
see him, stuffin' the Fritzes up with a lot o' lies. And so I
jes' reported as how th' orficer 'ad crawled out of the trench
and never come back.
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