The author wrote “Teutonic Peoples,” but the native compositor thought he knew better—­and perhaps he did.

* * * * *

One star.

Occasionally I receive letters from friends whom I have not seen lately addressed to Lieutenant M——­ and apologising prettily inside in case I am by now a colonel; in drawing-rooms I am sometimes called “Captain-er”; and up at the Fort the other day a sentry of the Royal Defence Corps, wearing the Crecy medal, mistook me for a Major, and presented crossbows to me.  This is all wrong.  As Mr. Garvin well points out, it is important that we should not have a false perspective of the War.  Let me, then, make it perfectly plain—­I am a Second Lieutenant.

When I first became a Second Lieutenant I was rather proud.  I was a Second Lieutenant “on probation.”  On my right sleeve I wore a single star.  So: 

* (on probation, of course).

On my left sleeve I wore another star.  So: 

* (also on probation).

They were good stars, none better in the service; and as we didn’t like the sound of “on probation” Celia put a few stitches in them to make them more permanent.  This proved effective.  Six months later I had a very pleasant note from the King telling me that the days of probation were now over, and making it clear that he and I were friends.

I was now a real Second Lieutenant.  On my right sleeve I had a single star.  Thus: 

* (not on probation).

On my left sleeve I also had a single star.  In this manner: 

*

This star also was now a fixed one.

From that time forward my thoughts dwelt naturally on promotion.  There were exalted persons in the regiment called Lieutenants.  They had two stars on each sleeve.  So: 

* *

I decided to become a Lieutenant.

Promotion in our regiment was difficult.  After giving the matter every consideration I came to the conclusion that the only way to win my second star was to save the Colonel’s life.  I used to follow him about affectionately in the hope that be would fall into the sea.  He was a big strong man and a powerful swimmer, but once in the water it would not be difficult to cling round his neck and give an impression that I was rescuing him.  However, he refused to fall in.  I fancy that he wore somebody’s Military Soles which prevent slipping.

Years rolled on.  I used to look at my stars sometimes, one on each sleeve; they seemed very lonely.  At times they came close together; but at other times, as, for instance, when I was semaphoring, they were very far apart.  To prevent these occasional separations Celia took them off my sleeves and put them on my shoulders.  One on each shoulder.  So: 

*

And so: 

*

There they stayed.

And more years rolled on.

One day Celia came to me in great excitement.