We had hardly settled down to Mess when an orderly, armed with a buff
slip, shot through the door, narrowly missed colliding with the soup,
and pulled up by Grigson's chair. Grigson is our Flight Commander--one
of those rugged and impenetrable individuals who seem impervious
to any kind of shock. There is a legend that on one occasion four
machine-gun bullets actually hit him and bounced off, which gave the
imitative Hun the idea of armour-plating his machines.
Grigson took the slip and read, slowly and paraphrastically: "Night
operations. A machine will be detailed to leave the ground at 10:30
pip emma and lay three fresh eggs on the railway-station at ----.
At the special request of the G.O.C.R.F.C., Lieutenant Maude, the
well-known strafer, will oblige. Co-operation by B and C Flights."
Lieutenant Maude, commonly known by a loose association of ideas as
Toddles, buried a heightened complexion in a plate of now tepid soup.
Someone having pulled him out and wiped him down, he was understood
to remark that he would have preferred longer notice, as it had been
his intention that night to achieve a decisive victory in the Flight
ping-pong tournament.
"Oh, but, Toddles," came a voice, "think how pleased old Fritz will
be to see you. You'll miss the garden party, but you'll be in nice
time for the fire-works--Verey lights and flaming onions and pretty
searchlights. Don't you love searchlights, Toddles?"
Toddles stretched out an ominous hand towards the siphon, and was only
deterred from his fell intention by the entry of the C.O.
"Oh, Grigson," said the C.O. pleasantly, "the Wing have just rung
through to say they want that raid done at once, so you might get your
man up _toute suite_."
Toddles was exactly halfway through his fish.
Now, though Toddles has never to my knowledge appeared before the C.O.
at dead of night attired in pink silk pyjamas, begging with tears in
his eyes to be allowed to perform those duties which the dawn would in
any case impose upon him (this practice is not really very common in
the R.F.C.), he is a thoroughly sound and conscientious little beggar.
And, making allowances for the fallibility of human inventions,
and the fact that two other young gentlemen were also engaged in
the congenial task of making structural alterations to the railway
station at ----, Toddles comes out of the affair with an untarnished
reputation.
Whether it was that his more fastidious taste in architecture detained
him I do not know, but it was fully ten minutes after the others had
landed before we who were watching on the aerodrome became aware that
Toddles was coming home to roost. The usual signals were exchanged,
and Toddles finished up a graceful descent by making violent contact
with the ground, bouncing seven times and knocking over two flares
before finally coming to rest. His machine appeared to be leaning on
its left elbow in a slightly intoxicated condition.
"Bust the V strut," said Toddles cheerfully. We assured him that one
would hardly notice it. Grigson meanwhile had been examining the under
carriage with scientific care, and turned to ask him how he had got
on.
"Bong," said Toddles, beaming; "absolutely bong. They spotted us, but
Archie was off colour."
"Did you see your pills burst?"
Toddles beamed more emphatically than ever. "One in what I took to
be the station yard, one right on the line, and one O.K. ammunition
truck; terrific explosion--nearly upset me. Three perfectly good
shots."
So far Toddles' account agreed very fairly with the two we already
had.
"Didn't have any trouble with the release gear, I suppose?" said
Grigson. "Nasty thing that. I've known it jam before now."
"Well," answered Toddles, "it did stick a bit, but I just yanked it
over and it worked."
"Splendid!" said Grigson brightly. "A nice bit of work, and very
thoughtful of you to bring home such jolly souvenirs."
"Look here," replied Toddles with warmth, "who the devil are you
getting at?"
"Nothing; oh, nothing at all."
Grigson moved away towards the Mess. "By the way," he said, "you're
quite certain they were your own shots? I should have a good look at
that under carriage if I were you."
We all went down on hands and knees. Lying placidly in the rack with
an air of well-merited ease born of the consciousness that they had,
without any effort of their own, avoided a fatiguing duty, were three
large bombs.
"Er--ah--hum," said Toddles. "Now then, Sergeant, hurry up and get
this machine back into the shed!"
And the Sergeant's face was the best joke of all.
* * * * *
"Man, handy at vice, been in motor repair shop."--_Daily
Chronicle_.
Still, it must not be assumed that life in a garage is necessarily
fatal to virtue.
* * * * *
[Illustration: PERFECT INNOCENCE.