Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/543

Youth. "It's all very well to talk about policewomen. But what could they do against us men?"

One of the three ladies (promptly). "I suppose the authorities think that they would be quite a match for those who have remained at home."

My dear Charles,—No doubt you are feeling it is just about time I had a battle for you. Very well, then.

The most important feature in our daily routine, next to the tinned meat and vegetable ration, is the possibility of poisonous gas. You have already heard from me as to the ration, a choice mixture of cooked meat, vegetable and gravy, which is eaten cold by the lazy soldier, hot by the industriously luxurious, but without the gravy by the cautious dyspeptic. So much for that. Of the gas you have heard much, but you cannot have heard as much as we have. Ever since it first spread itself, our life has been one long lesson, theoretical and practical, as to how to be prepared for, to avoid, to neutralise, to cure, or, failing all else, to cough up again the revolting vapour. We have lectured and been lectured so incessantly and remorselessly on the subject that every member of the audience always knows what word to expect next and is never disappointed. We have had Chlorine Parades and Bromine Drill ad infinitum. We wear respirators attached to all parts of our person and equipment, and are suddenly ordered to fit them on at the most unusual and uncomfortable moments. So rigorous is the discipline in the matter that Lieutenant-Colonels beyond number are said to have been reduced to the rank of unpaid Lance-Corporals ("at their own request") in consequence of their being discovered not wearing these respirators while performing their morning ablutions. One officer, of rank so high that I dare not mention it, looks, when enclosed in his black muslin attachment, like The Girl Who Took the Wrong Turning, but even so he has no dispensation. With all this, and more, what wonder that the mere thought of gas lies as heavily on our minds as the gas itself is said to lie on its victim's chest or as the meat and vegetable ration (if eaten hot with gravy) lies on the consumer's?

It had been, on the whole, a peaceful evening; I suppose we had not expended more than a few hundred pounds' worth of ammunition upon the German trenches or received more than a fair return in precious metals. At any rate, neither side had shown any real animosity or malice, and I for my part retired, as did all officers and men of the first watch, and rested at my usual hour of midnight in my handsomely furnished apartment in the East Wing. The details of what happened I have mostly compiled from the immediate actors in the drama; for the best of the time I was gazing over the parapet, convincing myself that I was not in a punt in a Thames back-water, as I had supposed two minutes ago.

It appears that a sentry away to our left had been diligently watching at his post when he felt himself being overcome. (He is quite form that he saw the gas, lots of it, but is not very vivid with his details.) With one supreme effort he managed to shout the fateful word "Gas!"—the most recent and least difficult of military operations, and then collapsed. Down the line came the word, starting in a whisper, ending in a yell. I myself heard the call repeated in every possible accent, surprise, indignation, interrogation, curiosity, incredulity, amusement, interesting information, command; or as if to say "We've been told to shout