Miss. There is an extension in the bathroom Miss. Would you like me to put you through there? The Chief often speaks to Captain Brown from his bath.’
No doubt he did. But I wasn’t going to. I should laugh in the middle of the conversation I was sure, at the thought of the immaculate Captain Brown at the other end and how shocked he would be if he could see me now. Up till then our interviews had been of the most proper, and I decided that for him, anyway, I should wear the white flower of a blameless life.
My secretary, too, was another joy at first. She was a remarkably pretty young woman who arrived with pencil and notebook at 9 a.m. prompt and seated herself opposite me with a vista of empty cigar boxes between us. After the first day, I put up a barrage of flowers which was not quite so depressing. At any rate, it did not suggest ‘the morning after the night before’. But the pretty young woman could not spell – not a little bit – not for little nuts. It would never do for the Education letters to go to the Detached Units – from Brigadiers downwards – with phonetic spelling. Why, they might even want to copy it, as Private Nobbs had wanted to copy my writing. I saw the organiser.
‘What a pretty girl you’ve given me as a secretary,’ I remarked with truth. ‘It’s an awful pity to waste her on me. She’s having such a dull time, poor dear. Look here, can’t you shove her on to one of the men – they’d love her – and give me a plain one, the plainest you’ve got.’
He looked doubtful. ‘The Visitor chose her,’ he said. I gasped. So the Visitor was human after all. ‘She is pretty,’ the organiser went on, after a minute, musingly.
‘Pretty,’ I echoed. ‘She’s the prettiest girl in GHQ. What about the Chief with the white pass – the one that goes to Paris – he’d like her.’
‘That’s an idea,’ said the organiser briskly. ‘So he would. Well, I’ll see about it. I’ll send you in Miss Randel – she’s plain enough to be a good foil.’ I was left wondering which of us had won. At any rate Miss Randel could spell and worked like an automatic machine – we got on swimmingly all the rest of the time.
The work was really interesting. I had files from every one of the Forward Armies with demands for every kind of subject. The man who wanted to learn watchmaking by post was the greatest optimist – I had to break it to him gently that we could not teach that. The musical gentleman in Dublin wrote to me frequently and at great length to explain that organ theory is best taught by post and could I not find him pupils. But we were not allowed to suggest to the troops and none of them thought of organ theory for themselves. At times we really did begin to tap the University class of officer, but as soon as I got the Tutor fixed up, the officer was demobilised. I would receive a polite letter of thanks from Birmingham or from Birkenhead. The letters from the ‘Other Ranks’ were much more friendly in tone. They nearly always sent me their ‘kindest regards’ and on occasion their love and almost invariably began ‘My Dear’. They were not even daunted at my sternly official replies ‘Dear Sir’ and ‘Yours faithfully’. The next letter, on the contrary, would be even warmer and they always thanked me for my trouble.
When a letter came from Cologne asking for advanced mathematics by correspondence, I made a guess at why we were so popular. I happened to know that instruction in this particular subject could be had at Cologne from the Army itself – but this, as my correspondent explained, was just what he did not want. ‘We have enough of the Army – we want something unofficial. You know more and you will help us more.’ That was the gist of many of my letters. They were right about the quality of the instruction available. The names on my list of Tutors – at our Bases, and if necessary, in England – were amongst the most distinguished that England
No doubt he did. But I wasn’t going to. I should laugh in the middle of the conversation I was sure, at the thought of the immaculate Captain Brown at the other end and how shocked he would be if he could see me now. Up till then our interviews had been of the most proper, and I decided that for him, anyway, I should wear the white flower of a blameless life.
My secretary, too, was another joy at first. She was a remarkably pretty young woman who arrived with pencil and notebook at 9 a.m. prompt and seated herself opposite me with a vista of empty cigar boxes between us. After the first day, I put up a barrage of flowers which was not quite so depressing. At any rate, it did not suggest ‘the morning after the night before’. But the pretty young woman could not spell – not a little bit – not for little nuts. It would never do for the Education letters to go to the Detached Units – from Brigadiers downwards – with phonetic spelling. Why, they might even want to copy it, as Private Nobbs had wanted to copy my writing. I saw the organiser.
‘What a pretty girl you’ve given me as a secretary,’ I remarked with truth. ‘It’s an awful pity to waste her on me. She’s having such a dull time, poor dear. Look here, can’t you shove her on to one of the men – they’d love her – and give me a plain one, the plainest you’ve got.’
He looked doubtful. ‘The Visitor chose her,’ he said. I gasped. So the Visitor was human after all. ‘She is pretty,’ the organiser went on, after a minute, musingly.
‘Pretty,’ I echoed. ‘She’s the prettiest girl in GHQ. What about the Chief with the white pass – the one that goes to Paris – he’d like her.’
‘That’s an idea,’ said the organiser briskly. ‘So he would. Well, I’ll see about it. I’ll send you in Miss Randel – she’s plain enough to be a good foil.’ I was left wondering which of us had won. At any rate Miss Randel could spell and worked like an automatic machine – we got on swimmingly all the rest of the time.
The work was really interesting. I had files from every one of the Forward Armies with demands for every kind of subject. The man who wanted to learn watchmaking by post was the greatest optimist – I had to break it to him gently that we could not teach that. The musical gentleman in Dublin wrote to me frequently and at great length to explain that organ theory is best taught by post and could I not find him pupils. But we were not allowed to suggest to the troops and none of them thought of organ theory for themselves. At times we really did begin to tap the University class of officer, but as soon as I got the Tutor fixed up, the officer was demobilised. I would receive a polite letter of thanks from Birmingham or from Birkenhead. The letters from the ‘Other Ranks’ were much more friendly in tone. They nearly always sent me their ‘kindest regards’ and on occasion their love and almost invariably began ‘My Dear’. They were not even daunted at my sternly official replies ‘Dear Sir’ and ‘Yours faithfully’. The next letter, on the contrary, would be even warmer and they always thanked me for my trouble.
When a letter came from Cologne asking for advanced mathematics by correspondence, I made a guess at why we were so popular. I happened to know that instruction in this particular subject could be had at Cologne from the Army itself – but this, as my correspondent explained, was just what he did not want. ‘We have enough of the Army – we want something unofficial. You know more and you will help us more.’ That was the gist of many of my letters. They were right about the quality of the instruction available. The names on my list of Tutors – at our Bases, and if necessary, in England – were amongst the most distinguished that England
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