Somebody in the Old Country discovered, with the aid of a hint or
two, that the tooth (exact molar not specified) of the General Staff
Officer 3 was sweet. As a natural result a certain famous firm of
confectioners was indented upon heavily. Day in, day out, perspiring
orderlies arrived festooned with parcels containing all kinds of
wonderful things crammed with all sorts of wonderful surprises. Life
in the General Staff Office resolved itself into four meals a day
between sweetmeats. The whole routine underwent a complete change.
Everyone who visited the place made, as a matter of course, a bee
line for the General Staff Canteen cupboard, and while searching for
the particular dainty he fancied broached the subject of his visit in
general terms. He then turned to the officer he was addressing and
politely offered him the kind of delicacy he thought would blend best
with the matter in hand.
And then Chockchaw arrived. It began by letting the G.S.O.3 down
badly the first day. All unsuspicious of its properties he rang up a
Division, popped a piece into his mouth and waited. In due time the
call came through, but no word could he utter. "Chockchaw lockjaw" had
set in. Only a horrible sound like the squelching of ten gum-boots in
the mud reached the indignant Staff at the other end. After a minute's
monologue they rang off in disgust.
Yet in spite of all difficulties the vogue of Chockchaw swept through
the Corps. It is such a ripe, rich, full-flavoured irresistible
concoction. Disadvantages there are, of course, but, on the other
hand, if you want to be quiet, it is easy to lure the unsuspecting
intruder on to Chockchaw and leave it at that. After vain efforts the
poor fellow usually creeps away like a cat with too big a bone and
chews himself back to speech round the corner. He seldom returns, and
if he does--there is always more Chockchaw. Should he refuse it this
time you can take a piece yourself and save the trouble of answering,
anyway.
Chockchaw entailed more perilous chances than at first appeared
probable. Indeed at one time it looked like seriously impeding the
course of final victory.
On a certain brown November day the G.S.O.2 suddenly jumped up from
his chair, ran to the Canteen cupboard, popped a piece of Chockchaw
into his mouth (because he had a difficult March Table to make out and
needed sustenance) and fell to work whistling like an ordinary human
being (who cannot whistle). I.O. (not the gadfly, but the Intelligence
Officer) dropped in with his usual list of suspected hostile
emplacements. He took Chockchaw in case he was asked pertinent
questions. He has to be _so_ careful what he gives away unofficially.
He knows so _much_. Germans try to steal his summaries to find out
what their own intentions really are. The A.D.C. dropped in for his
usual morning chat and Chockchaw. The Staff Officer R.A. (S.O.R.A.),
that inveterate sweet-guzzler, also dropped in.
"Hullo, what are you fellows munching?" asked the General, coming in
muddied all over. "Give me a bit; I've had no breakfast. What's the
news, Intelligence?" (No answer) "Is that Move Order done, by the
way?" (No answer.) "Why, what the--Good Lord, I'm _stuck_! What
stuff is this you've given me?" And there they all stood chumping in
silence.
The telephone rang. The absurdity of a dumb Staff tickled everybody.
They winked their appreciation of the situation at one another. Not to
be able to say "Thank you" on being instructed "with reference to my
telegram of to-day for L/Cpl. Plunkett read L/Cpl. Plonkett," appealed
to them. Amidst the chuckles and gluggels of all, the G.S.O.3 was
obliged to lift the receiver. Something of the seriousness of the
occasion must have communicated itself to the others, for they crowded
round him, mumbling and munching sympathetically. Speechless, the
poor fellow wrote hastily on a buff slip of paper a Name, and passed
it round. It was the name of an Excessively Resplendent One, whose
lightest word results in headlines in the less expensive daily press.
A frightful panic came over all. What--a General Staff ceasing to
function even for a minute? It was unthinkable. The news would
be flashed through to all concerned and become the subject of
conversation in ten thousand messes that evening. It must not be.
Never was there such a kneading and gnashing of teeth. But to no
purpose. You cannot hurry Chockchaw; time, and time alone, will defeat
it. The General tried to pack it all into one cheek. Useless; to
attempt to sculpture in seccotine would have been a simpler task. The
G.S.O.2 tried a frontal swallow, but only lined his throat more and
more thickly until respiration became difficult. The S.O.R.A. nearly
swallowed his tongue. The A.D.C., having cricked his jaw in the first
five seconds, counted ten and threw up the sponge. The voice at the
telephone became louder and more insistent. Flushed, hot and flurried,
the G.S.O.3 thrust the receiver into the hands of the G.S.O.2, who
handed it on to the General, who dropped it. Nobody spoke. Only the
crackling and cackling voice could be heard from the receiver as it
hung face downwards at the end of its cord.
It was a moment demanding imagination. Naturally the Intelligence
Officer felt the responsibility. He stepped forward, slapped the
mouthpiece three times with the palm of his hand, rang off, rang on
and slapped it again. The effect at the other end must have been
horrible, but it achieved its purpose. By the time connection had been
restored and the blood of the Signal Master demanded, the A.D.C. had
cheated with a handkerchief and was able to gasp out that the Corps
Commander would enjoy seeing the Resplendent One any time that day.
Thus the honour of the General Staff was saved, the Intelligence
Officer vindicated and the vogue of Chockchaw brought to an untimely
end.
"You ought," said the General severely to the G.S.O.3--"you ought to
be unstuck for bringing such stuff into the office."
"I have never wished so hard in my life, Sir, to be unstuck," said he.
* * * * *
[Illustration: IN THE TOWER DISTRICT.
"SAY, GUV'NOR, YER MIGHT RESERVE A COUPLE OF FIRST-CLASS DUNGEONS FOR
ME AN' MY FRIENDS ON THE NEXT RAID NIGHT."]
* * * * *