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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 156 April 9 1919 by Various
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Ebook has 241 lines and 17575 words, and 5 pages
"Oh, that's all right; I'm General Blank."
The word "General" recalled Nijinsky to his senses. He unslung his rifle, brought it to the order, brought it to the slope and presented arms with great solemnity, and as only Nijinsky can.
"Oh--er--stand easy," said the General, when the meaning of these evolutions was made manifest to him. "Wonderful days for you fellows here--what? There have been times when the Rhine seemed a long way away, didn't it? And now here you are, a victorious army guarding that very river! It's a wonderful time for you, and no doubt you appreciate it?"
"Ger-grub's short," said Nijinsky.
"Rations?" said the D.A.Q.M.G. "I've had no complaints."
"Yiss. No spuds--taters, I mean."
"We must see to that," said the General. "Well, we'll go on, I think;" and they got into the car.
"Pup-pass, please," said Nijinsky, spotting the trick at once.
"Oh, that's all right, my good fellow. Drive on."
"N-n-no," said Nijinsky sternly; "you ker-can't ger-go without a pup-pup-pass!"
"Come, come, don't be ridiculous. I'm your General; you know me perfectly well."
"Yiss."
"Then let me through, do you hear? And let me have no more of this infernal nonsense."
"It's ug-ug--"
"It's what?"
"Ug-against orders."
"Yiss, and I'm ker-carrying them out, ain't I?" came with inexorable logic.
"Well, now I give you orders to let me through. Do you see?"
"Yiss; but if I do they'll have me up for disobeying the fer-first one. Pup-pass, please."
"'Pon my soul, this is too preposterous. My good boy, I'm very glad you know how to obey an order, but you must use your discretion sometimes."
At the word "discretion" Nijinsky started. Then he broke all records and winked--winked at a perfectly good General at eleven o'clock in the morning.
"Oh, no, you der-don't," he grinned; "I've been her-had before. The Captain says I'm ner-not to use my discretion; it only ger-gets me into a lot of terouble."
The General got out of his car. So did the G.S.O.1. So did the D.A.Q.M.G. So did the A.D.C. But the spectacle was not so impressive as before. They advanced in artillery formation upon the enemy. It was enough. Perish the General Staff! They were mere phantoms of authority beside the vision of the company officer and the words, "Escort and accused--halt. Left--turn. Private Nijinsky, Sir." With his eyes bulging with excitement Nijinsky leapt back and assumed the attitude of warlike defiance known as "coming on guard."
The General hesitated. He did not know Nijinsky, you see; he had never seen him going sick before the battle, or heard him murmur "ser-something for ner-nothing," as he took his medicine.
"Then," said Nijinsky, "wer-will you per-please use yours, for. I ker-can't let you through without a pup-pass."
The sun shone brightly on the car as it retired ignominiously, leaving Nijinsky hot, happy and victorious, presenting arms faithfully to the indignant Great Ones, and silence reigned on the battlefield.
He came and spluttered it all out to me afterwards, concluding with "I der-didn't let the ker-company down this time, Sir, der-did I?" and evidently expected a pat on the back for it.
Teams of infuriated artillery horses wouldn't drag from me whether he got it or not, but from that day to this he has never looked back. Indeed he has begun to take a pride in his personal appearance and general smartness. I met him yesterday wearing a smile like a slice of melon and with his boots, and buttons glistening in the sunshine.
"The General came through to-day, Sir," he said, beaming, "and he her-had a pup-pass all right;" and he strutted on, making strange noises in his throat, which I understand is the Yiddish for being pleased with yourself.
We confess we should like to know the cause of cook's affliction. Was it jealousy, or onions?
TO CHLOE, CAUGHT SPRING-CLEANING.
Now wherefore should you be dismayed And in confusion fall, Because I spied on you arrayed In cap and overall, And saw you for a moment stand Clenching a duster in your hand?
The morning ardour of your face Was like a summer rose; One sooty smudge but seemed to grace The challenge of your nose; The gaudy thing that hid your hair Performed its office with an air.
There is a time for stately tire, For frills and furbelows, When dainty humours should inspire Such vanities as those; So for stern hours of high intent Behoves a fit habiliment.
Did not those gallants win our pride And heroes stand revealed, Who flung their fineries aside For fashions of the field? I, who have known campaigning too, Salute a kindred soul in you.
THE OVERLAND ROUTE.
GETTING A JOB.
John looked very gloomy.
"Well, it's like this," said John, "the time has come when you and I must look for a job."
"That's all right," said I cheerfully. "We'll go and see the Advisory Committee. They'll put us up to a job in civil life. They're sitting there bubbling over with advice. Employers in England are simply falling over one another to find positions for brave young officers who--"
"Yes, I don't think," remarked John very sceptically. "I went to see the Advisory Committee two days ago. Perhaps I was rather unfortunate in arriving at the same time as the English mail; anyhow I came away with the following information and convictions:--
That the easiest job in civil life is to sit on an Advisory Committee.
That one is always either too old or too young for the Civil Services.
That I was a devil of a good fellow and I'd won the War .
That I was to fill up my A.Z.15 and trust in my stars ."
"Well, what about it?" I continued.
Mine was much more modest:--
"An officer at present in France desires a good job in civil life. No experience, no education, no languages, no money, no prospects and no hope. What offers?"
So we applied for leave.
John asked permission to remove his person to the U.K. for urgent and private reasons. I stated that I had a position offered me, but an interview was necessary, and asked their indulgence for the purpose.
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