"Shout!" yelled the adjutant. "Don't mumble like a flapper who has
just got her first kiss. It's not allowed on parade."
The order was repeated, and the voice raised a little.
"Louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant. Then with fine irony: "These
men are very interested in what you've got to tell them.... I don't
think."
Eyeglass essayed another attempt, but stopped in the midst of his
words, frozen into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant.
"For heaven's sake, try and speak up," the adjutant said. "If you
don't talk like a man, these fellows won't salute you when they meet
you in the street with your young lady. On second thoughts, you had
better go back and take up the job of platoon sergeant. Come on,
Glengarry, and try and trumpet an order."
Glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a sturdy youth with sloping
shoulders, took up his post nervously.
"A close column forming column of fours," he cried in a shrill treble,
quoting the cautionary part of his command. "Advance in fours from the
right; form fours--right!"
"Form fours--where?" roared the adjutant.
"Left," came the answer.
"Left, your grandmother! You were right at first. Did you not know
that you were right?... Where's Eyeglass, the platoon sergeant, now?
Who's pinched him?"
This unfortunate officer had dropped his eyeglass, and was now groping
for it on the muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search.
Other officers took up the job of company commander in turn, and all
suffered.
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