At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a daily
inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also the
officers' quarters.
In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.
We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that he
had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.
I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came to
the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
complaints?"
The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to him,
and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me in
the best _maître d'hôtel_ style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir. I
tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."
[Illustration: "'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"]
Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!" And
then, in a louder voice, "_Ve_ are. 'Ow long 'ave _you_ bin a partner
in the firm?"--_Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18._