Of course such an order as this, written by some theorist in a comfortable room two or three hundred miles from the bursting shells, would usually be stopped by the practical men of the staff. When one has inadvertently filtered through, as in this case, can those in the lines be blamed for talking about foolkillers? As is to be expected, the order was ignored until the battalion some time later received a reminder. They protested that this test was surrounded by too many difficulties, and were told to "try it on a small scale." The gruff voice of the Regimental Sergeant Major said that he supposed they would send up "some small scale rats to try it on." As they were not forthcoming, that is as far as the order got. But though Staff Officers are disliked almost as much as Medical Officers, Tommy must bear with them, even if it be with a poorly disguised sneer of disgust and tolerance; for an army without a staff would be as incredible and undesirable as sick and wounded without attention. No doubt, in spite of Tommy's humor and banter, when the truth is told, both of the above types perform their duties as ably as they can according to their lights. -------- While dining with the officers of C Company one evening, I heard two of that company's likable young subalterns arguing as to whether the rum ration, so popular with most of the men out there on cold winter nights, would, after the war, conduce to temperance in the nation. The argument grew quite hot, as it often did there, and one of the debaters stuck his helmet on his head, and strode to the entrance of the dugout where he turned and clinched the argument with the sneering remark: "By gad, Smith, you know less about more things than any other man I've ever met," then made a victorious exit. And speaking of the rum ration, an old soldier once told me that, being the oldest man in his platoon, the serving out of the rum usually fell to his lot, whereupon he always took from his haversack a little tin vessel which held just the right amount for each man, thus showing his absolute fairness and impartiality. But, as he poured the liquor into the little cup, he kept his thumb on the inside, so that at the end of serving some thirty or forty of his comrades he had thirty or forty "thumbs" of the beverage left as his portion--a form of humor, no doubt, better appreciated by himself than it would have been by the rest of his platoon, had they known how absolutely (im-) partial he always was, to himself. CHAPTER XIII COURAGE--FEAR--COWARDICE