the unexpired portion of next week's ration, and camp at the telephone
orderly's elbow. After a day or two it will percolate through to the
varlet's intelligence that you are a desperate dog in urgent need of
something, and he will bestir himself, and mayhap in a further two or
three days' time he will wind a crank, pull some strings, and announce
that you are "on," and you will find yourself in animated conversation
with an inspector of cemeteries, a jam expert at the Base, or the
Dalai Lama. If you want to give back-chat to the Staff you had best
take it there by hand.

A friend of mine by name of Patrick once got the job of Temporary
Assistant Deputy Lance Staff Captain (unpaid), and before he tumbled
to the one-way idea his telephone worked both ways and gave him a
lot of trouble. People were always calling _him_ up and asking _him_
questions, which of course wasn't playing the game at all. Sometimes
he never got to bed before 10 P.M., answering questions; often he was
up again at 9 A.M., answering more questions--and such questions!

A sample. On one occasion he rang up his old battalion. One Jimmy
was then Acting Assistant Vice-Adjutant. "Hello, wazzermatter?" said
Jimmy. "Staff Captain speaking," said Patrick sternly. "Please furnish
a return of all cooks, smoke-helmets, bombs, mules, Yukon-packs, tin
bowlers, grease-traps and Plymouth Brothers you have in the field!"

"Easy--beg pardon, yes, Sir," said Jimmy and hung up.

Presently the phone buzzed and there was Jimmy again.

"Excuse me, Sir, but you wanted a return of various commodities we
have in the field. What field?"