Hornet’s Sting by Derek Robinson

which puts Captain Ball far out in front.”
    â€œAnd all done in a Nieuport,” Ogilvy said. “Ball prefers the Nieuport.”
    â€œI want Nieuport,” the duke said abruptly.
    â€œGet me Nieuport too,” the count said.
    Everyone looked. They were serious. They sat straight-backed, heads high, and looked down their beautiful noses at them. “This is not the time or the place,” Ogilvy said. They spoke to each other in Russian. “Two Nieuports,” the duke said. “Quick. Tickety-boo.”
    â€œYou mean lickety-split,” Munday said. “Tickety-boo means all-serene.”
    â€œTickety-boo
and
lickety-split,” the duke said.
    â€œWe’ll discuss it later,” Ogilvy said.
    â€œPlease, sir, can I have a new bicycle?” McWatters said.
    â€œTell me, Uncle,” the doctor said, speaking slowly and clearly so as to distract attention from the Russians, “tell me, why is the British Army so fascinated by Ypres? It’s a smelly bog. I should have thought the Allies had all the bog they needed. Yet every time I pick up the paper, there’s another thumping great Battle of Ypres going on.”
    â€œOnly two battles,” the adjutant said. “Strategic necessity.”
    â€œOh. I see. Well, that’s all right then.”
    â€œRussia got biggest bog,” the count said with a gloomy pride.
    â€œPinsk Marshes. Big as Switzerland.”
    The duke said: “German Army invades Pinsk Marshes. Russian Army attacks German Army.” He knocked his knuckles together. “All lost in marshes. All.” That silenced the rest of the squadron. “Great victory for Tsar,” he added.
    â€œPlenty more armies in Russia,” the count said.
    â€œMy goodness!” the padre exclaimed. “Rice pudding. With currants in it. What a treat.”
    The wind howled suddenly in the chimney, and the stove roared. The doctor glanced at the adjutant. “How are our coal stocks?”
    â€œExcellent. All thanks to Lieutenant Dash and his cousin, the pork sausage maker.”
    â€œAh. Well done, lad.” A dozen fists briefly pounded the table in applause, and Dash nodded. For the first time, he felt accepted by the squadron.
    * * *
    As he walked to his hut, Captain Brazier heard music coming from the orderly room. He found Sergeant Lacey playing the gramophone as he worked at his desk.
    â€œSounds like a fight in a fireworks factory,” the adjutant said.
    â€œStravinsky. His music for the new Diaghilev ballet,
Les Arbeilles
. It’s on in Paris. You’d love it. Pure joy.”
    â€œStravinsky,” said the adjutant. “Isn’t he that anarchist-musician johnny? Caused a riot?”
    â€œAnd a very splendid riot it was,” Lacey said. “At the
première
of
The Rites of Spring.”
    â€œI suppressed a riot once. At the market place in Peshawar. And a very splendid suppression it was.” Lacey rolled his eyes. “I assure you, sergeant. I had the ringleaders tied to the mouths of our cannons and I blew their little Indian lights out. Blew them clean out!”
    â€œRather like a birthday cake,” Lacey said. He was flicking through a batch of signals. He held up a pink form. “Plum jam. Brigade are still unhappy. The quartermaster insists that we have two hundred poundsmore than our entitlement.” Lacey polished his glasses with the flimsy paper.
    â€œWe explained all that. Didn’t we?”
    â€œWe said that he sent us strawberry jam in error and that we returned it.”
    â€œWell, tell him again.”
    â€œNo, no. The man is a halfwit. He needs guidance.” Lacey rolled a form into his typewriter and rattled out a reply:
    Plum jam, squadron entitlement for, mislabelled as supplied, local transfer of. Your PNT/14Q dated 06.03.17. Can confirm manufacturer’s error resulted
200
lbs jam labelled plum in fact contents half strawberry half raspberry therefore