S.-L. Wood. Run away, dear. No time for you. Brass hats expected in
large numbers.
S.-L. B. I've lost my platoon.
S.-L. W. Have you looked in _all_ your pockets, Freddy?
S.-L. B. I sent it up under the Sergeant, and he must have mistaken the
place, strafe him! And I told the Adjutant I'd be the other side of this
wood, doing Visual Training, when the General came round.
S.-L. W. (_impressed at last_). My hat, you're in for it! Look out, here
they come.
Second-Lieutenant Brown _fades into the landscape_.
_Enter the_ General _and the_ C.O., _with_ Staff-Captain, Adjutant _and_
Sergeant-Major. _The Platoon labours on and takes no notice_.
Second-Lieutenant Wood _comes to attention and salutes_. _The_ General
_remarks on the fine physique of the men, inspects the wire entanglement
and explains how_ _he used to do it when he was a subaltern_. Private
Hogg, _a recruit unused to Generals, stands gazing awestruck, but
catches the_ Adjutant's _eye and, gets on feverishly with his work. The
cortège passes on, and the platoon heaves a sigh of relief and stands
easy._
_Re-enter_ Second-Lieutenant Brown.
_S.-L. W._ Go away, my good man; we've nothing for you.
_S.-L. B._ I say, like a good chap----_They confer earnestly._ Curtain.