"Ring 'em up and ask," said the General. "Don't, of course, mention
the word 'raid' on the telephone. Call it--um--ah, oh, call it
anything you like so long as they understand what you mean."
At times, to the casual eavesdropper, strange things must appear to
be going on in the British lines. It must be a matter of surprise, to
such a one, that the British troops can think it worth their while to
inform each other at midnight that "Two Emperors of Pongo have become
attached to Annie Laurie." Nor would it appear that any military
object would be served in passing on the chatty piece of information
that "there will be no party for Windsor to-morrow." This habit of
calling things and places as they most emphatically are not is but a
concession, of course, to the habits of the infamous Hun, who rightly
or wrongly is supposed to overhear everything one says within a mile
of the line.
Thinking in the vernacular proper to people who keep the little
knowledge they have to themselves, the Brigade Major grasped the hated
telephone in the left hand and prepared to say a few words (also in
the vernacular) to his fellow Staff Officer a mile away.
"Hullo!" Br-rr--Crick-crick. "Hullo, Signals! Give me S-Salmon."
"Salmon? You're through, Sir," boomed a voice apparently within a foot
of his ear.
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