The Sergeant-Major
eyed him curiously and then stepping to his side whispered something; we
knew he was explaining to him that he was infringing orders, but a
non-commissioned officer is not permitted to bawl out another non-com in
the presence of the men. Hastily bestowing the quid in his hand he
stood to attention. Roll call finished and we retired to our bunks.
Early next morning when we emerged from our quarters the first person we
saw was the odd-appearing individual that had joined up with us the
night before, with his inevitable note book in his hand. He was still
busily sucking his indelible pencil in the corner of his mouth, and, in
the light of the morning sun, there was nothing about his mug that was
any more prepossessing than appeared in the twilight of the previous
night. He also had on the sleeve of his coat a crown, indicating that he
was to be our acting Sergeant-Major in the absence of the regular
officer, and when not so acting, he was to be the First Sergeant of the
section.
The official activity of our new friend commenced to be evidenced in a
number of ways; he lost no time in making us understand that he was
First Sergeant.
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