Duncan was talking about awkward moments to-night, and he told of the
shock he got when he joined the army and found that the sergeant of his
squad was an old pupil of his.
"I think I can beat that, Duncan," I said, and told him the story of an
army lecture. I had a commission in the R.G.A. for a short time, and
one morning I had to give a lecture to the men of the battery on lines
of fire. They were mostly miners, and I tried to make the lecture as
simple as possible. I began with the definition of an angle and went
on to circular measurement. I noticed that one man stared at the
blackboard in bewilderment, a very stupid looking fellow he was. When
the lecture was over I approached him.
"I don't think you understood what I was trying to tell you," I said.
"I did have some difficulty in following it, sir," he said.
"H'm! What were you in civil life?"
"Mathematical master in a secondary school, sir."
I could not rise to the occasion. I fled to the mess and ordered a
brandy and soda.
Speaking about rising to the occasion brings to my mind another army
incident in which I did not shine. I was a recruit in the infantry,
and a gym sergeant was putting us through physical jerks. He told us
the familiar tale that although we had broken our mothers' hearts we
wouldn't break his; in short he put the wind up us. I got very nervous.
"Right turn!" he roared, and I thought he said "Right about turn."
He told the squad to stand easy, and then he eyed me curiously.
"You! Big fellow! Take that smile off your face!"
I don't know why he said that for I couldn't have smiled at that moment
for anything less than my ticket. He studied me carefully for a bit,
then enlightenment seemed to dawn on him.
"I got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
"I know wot's wrong with you! You've got a stupid face; you can't
think; you never thought in yer life."