His inspection of the section billet was carried out with a thoroughness hitherto unheard of. He directed Corporal Greenstock's attention to a hole in the roof with an air of faint reproof which suggested that a really efficient N.C.O. would have remedied such defects without being told; after which the usually imperturbable corporal, losing his nerve entirely, followed his platoon commander round the billet agitatedly explaining away defects before the officer had time to criticise. Sergeant Lees, who was accustomed with the ordinary subaltern to act as spokesman and master of the ceremonies, hung about anxiously in the offing. Even he was plainly feeling the strain of living up to this super-efficient new officer. Bill began to understand why he had seemed to have "something on his mind." As Mr. Stockley concluded his examination and turned to go, his eye rested on Alf and Bill. "Two men here I don't know, sergeant," he said. "Names, please." "Higgins and Grant, sir." "Where from?" "Leave, sir." "Umph! Corporal!!" "Sir!" Corporal Greenstock's attitude of attention might well have been photographed and used as a model for recruits. "See those two get cleaned up before I see them again. May do for Blighty, won't do for me." Bill looked after the officer's retreating form. "Lumme!" he commented. "'Ot stuff, eh?" "You bet," said the corporal. "An' arter what 'e said you'd better be 'ot stuff too, my lad, by to-morrow, or 'e'll be biting you in the neck--an' me, too." "'As 'e been in the line yet?" asked Alf. "Not with us, 'e 'asn't. But 'e was a fair terror with 'is old battalion, they say. 'E's killed nigh on fifty Fritzies 'imself, first an' last, an' on'y for a bit o' bad luck 'e'd 'ave 'ad the V.C. Some soldier!" "I expect," put in a gloomy voice, "as 'ow 'e's one o' these 'ere interferin' fellers as can't let well alone. When 'e gets into the trenches 'e'll never be satisfied with a quiet life, you'll see." Corporal Greenstock grinned. "Quiet life?" he said. "Not much! This blinkin' platoon'll spend all its time crawlin' about No-Man's Land on its stummick, when it ain't doin' bombing raids into Fritz's trenches. You'll see." Bill had an instinctive feeling that the corporal was right. Mr. Stockley had the air of a man who did not do things by halves; and the ribbons of the Military Medal, the D.C.M. and the Military Cross (a distinction only rarely conferred on sergeant-majors) testified to his fighting qualities. As to his thoroughness on parade, it was not long before both Higgins and Grant became painfully aware of that. Their long spell of leave had left them rather out of touch with military life, and they fell very far short of their new commander's minimum standard. "This life ain't what it was, Alf," Bill confided one day, busy with oil-bottle and pull-through on the working parts of his rifle.