“Sarge,
Sarge,” called the skinny youth, poking his head into the tent. “Private
Futter, how many times do I have to tell you. When you approach a senior rank,
you march up smartly, salute and wait to be spoken to,” Sergeant Acorn said
wearily. These conscripts were not a patch on the men he had served with
in the 1st battalion, the Norfolks, in India. Too many had fallen in
the shambles in France earlier in the year; CSM George Gristock had been
awarded a posthumous VC. Private
Futter hastily saluted. “But Sarge, two blokes are at the road block.
Foreigners, but they’ve got passes and want to speak to the officer.”
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Gold-A-Kings-Ransom-ebook/dp/B00HT7NUP4
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