"To-morrow," said the brave young subaltern, "if my Company Commander
curses my men for having long hair, I'll whip off his own hat and show
him to be three weeks overdue at the barber's.
"To-morrow, if the Adjutant finds fault with my salute, I'll give him
a faithful imitation of his own ridiculous ear-flip.
"To-morrow, if the Major strafes me for my handling of the platoon on
the barrack-square, I'll challenge him to detail 'presenting arms, by
numbers.'
"To-morrow, if the Colonel checks my men for being slovenly turned out
on parade, I'll publicly point out to him that the buttons of his own
pockets are undone and that the ends of his bootlaces are hanging out.
"To-morrow, if the General curses a man for rubbing his nose while
at attention, I'll openly suggest to him that it is not smart and
soldierlike to slouch along with one hand in your pocket while
inspecting the ranks.
"To-morrow, if I get the chance, I'll do all these things. I have put
off doing them far too long."
So spake the brave young subaltern, knowing full well that he is to be
demobbed to-day.
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