Read Online Men at Arms by Evelyn Waugh - Free Book Online Page A

the young were out in the town; the older were in neighbouring villas with their wives. No one drank wine except on guest nights. Guy had made the mistake of ordering claret his first evening and had been rebuked with a jocular: ‘Hullo, blood? Is it someone’s birthday?’
    ‘There’s an Ensa show tonight. Shall we go?’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I rather thought of sticking some amendments into the King’s Regulations.’
    ‘I’m told the orderly-room clerk will do it for a pound.’
    ‘Looks better to do it oneself.’ said Apthorpe. ‘Still I think I’ll come for once. The Captain-Commandant may be there. I haven’t spoken to him since the first day.’
    ‘What d’you want to say to him?’
    ‘Oh, nothing particular. Anything that crops up, you know.’
    After a pause Guy said: ‘You heard what the adjutant said about our probably getting companies.’
    ‘Doesn’t that verge rather on shop, old man?’
    Presently the hammer sounded again, the chaplain said Grace and the table was cleared. The removal of the cloth was a feat of dexterity which never failed to delight Guy. The corporal-of-servants stood at the foot of the table. The mess orderlies lifted the candlesticks. Then with a single flick of his wrists the corporal drew the whole length of linen into an avalanche at his feet.
    Port and snuff went round. The party broke up.
    The Halberdiers had their own Garrison Theatre within the barrack walls. It was nearly full when Guy and Apthorpe arrived. The first two rows were kept for officers. In the centre sat the full colonel, who by an idiosyncrasy of the Corps was called the Captain-Commandant, with his wife and daughter. Guy and Apthorpe looked for places, saw only two empty seats in the centre. They hesitated, Guy seeking to withdraw, Apthorpe rather timidly advancing.
    ‘Come along,’ said the Captain-Commandant. ‘Ashamed to be seen sitting with us? Meet madam and the brat.’
    They took their places with the distinguished party.
    ‘Do you go home for the week-end?’ asked the brat,
    ‘No. You see my home’s in Italy.’
    ‘Not really. Are you artistic or something? How thrilling.’
    ‘My home used to be in Bechuanaland,’ said Apthorpe.
    ‘I say,’ said the Captain-Commandant. ‘You must have some interesting yarns, Well, I suppose I’d better get this thing started.’
    He gave a nod; the footlights went up; he rose and climbed the steps to the stage.
    ‘We’re all greatly looking forward to this show,’ he said ‘These charming ladies and accomplished gentlemen have come a long way on a cold night to entertain us. Let’s see we give them a real Halberdier welcome.’
    Then he returned to his place amid loud applause.
    ‘It’s really the chaplain’s job,’ he said to Guy. ‘But I give the little fellow a rest now and then.’
    A piano began playing behind the curtain. The curtain rose. Before the stage was fully revealed the Captain Commandant sank into deep but not silent sleep. Under the Corps crest in the proscenium there was disclosed a little concert party comprising three elderly women, over-made-up, a cadaverous old man, under-made-up, and a neuter beast of indeterminable age at the piano. All wore the costume of pierrots and pierrettes. There was a storm of loyal applause. A jaunty chorus opened the show. One by one the heads in the first two rows sank into their collars. Guy slept too.
    He was awakened an hour later by a volume of song striking him, from a few feet away. It carne from the cadaverous man whose frail northern body seemed momentarily possessed by the ghost of some enormous tenor from the south. He woke the Captain-Commandant, too.
    ‘I say, that’s not “God Save The King”, is it?’
    ‘No, sir. “There’ll always be an England”.’
    The Captain Commandant collected his wits and listened.
    ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘Never can tell a tune till I’ve heard the words. The old fellow’s got a voice, hasn’t he?’
    It was the last item. Soon