Camp Dogs, So! Hildebrand.

So! Hildebrand

I do not like this camp, which it is somewhere in Australia. I would never wish to see it maybe again. No, not even from the air. So I got to be here, is my bad luck. Now, some blokes is lucky, so if they should fall in Sydney Harbour they would come up with the strong room of a sunken ship. But me, I don't never get the breaks, though I got brains and ambition.

Drilling with the troops is so easy, like hard labour in the Bastille, that I wangle a job as runner at batt. orderly room.

But I find a runner's job is not so hot, except only on my poor dogs which is covered with sob-sisters, on account of all the running I am having to do from the early ack emma.

Well, when the last parade is dismissed, and all my cobbers is now enjoying fun and games, I am all set to fade from the scene likewise.

But do I fade? I do not; instead, I get the glad tidings from the R.S.M. that I will be standing by the orderly room telephone until 2400 hours.

He would have made it 9600 hours, only in the Army they don't have so much hours. Also, I would wish to bet our sergeant-major could not count the numbers over 10, unless first he should take off his boots.

So I am all with myself in the orderly room on account there is big doings in the officers' mess, and also so to the sergeants' mess, which it is Formal Night.

Well, I am trying to knock off a few of the hundred hours with an exciting chapter from A.M.R. and Os, when there is a knock at the door, and I see before me two sheilas. One is maybe more like a battleship, but the other is one very sweet eyeful. She comes right up close, and flashes a smile which is like I am in a battery of searchlights and she says, "We would like to speak with Sergeant-Major Bullant." Well, I do not understand why anybody would like to speak with Sergeant-Major Bullant, but I answer, "Yes, miss; I will at once buzz him that you desire his speech."

"Is he not here, then?" I think a boy is running along a fence with a stick, but it is only the battleship which has spoke from the background.

So I explain that it is the night of the doings in the mess, when a pleasant time will be had by all, and every one will enjoy themselves very nice.

"So which," I says, "with your permission I will now buzz the mess and Sergeant-Major Bullant will be right in our midst."

"No-wait, please," says the glamour girl. "It might spoil things." And she goes into a huddle with the battleship. Then she comes right up close and gives me the searchlights again. "We are in great trouble, Mr. . . . ?"

"Trimmer," I squeaks, 'cos somebody has turned off all the air in the room, "but call me George."

"Well, George," she says, "I want that you should do me a great favour, George.

You see, George, this is Mrs. Bullant, so when you buzz the mess I want that you should not buzz that she is here, but only me, George.

So when you get the sergeant-major, if you will just say, 'Hildebrand'-that is his moniker, George-'Hildebrand, Marj. is here', well it would be a very great favour, George dear ... And you can call me Marj., George."

Boy! Has that dame got what it takes! But Hildebrand - strike me flamin' hooray! And the mob calls him "Blood pressure"! Well, I buzz the mess and ask for the S.M., which a voice asks back who the hell I am, which I answers back also in the vernacular, forgetting there is ladies present and because I am feeling pretty good-that I am requiring the S.M., P.D.Q.

When at last he gives me the "Hullo", I think a bomb has gone off in my ear. So I just whisper, "Hildebrand, Marj. is here."

A wood pigeon coos back he is on his way.

While we wait, I get the low-down, which it seems Comrade Bullant gets a nice little note to a lonely soldier in a pair of comforts fund socks which is knitted by Marj. to which Sergeant-Major Bullant writes back that he is not only a very lonely soldier, but also likewise an orphan. Which makes Marj. very sad indeed, and there is more letters and meetings, and what have you. And Marj. is very proud of her lonely soldier,

and tells to the other dames which is knitting socks, and the story goes around and around among all the hens, which they all start trying a lucky-dip with notes. And going around and around, the story comes out here, which it is the distribution centre of the comforts fund where is Ma Bullant which is also doing her bit. So what? Sergeant-Major Bullant is in a spot.

All this I learn while we waits, and when I hear the S.M.'s daisies on the path, bells ring, the light go up and down, and my ears flap, which Ma ducks behind the door.

"Why, Marj. darling!" sez the S.M.

"Don't call me darling, you oily shark!" sez Marj.

"Oh, dear, what can the matter be?" sez the S.M.

"You know what's to do, you heart-breaking, home-wrecking Sultan," sez Marj. in a loud voice. Then the battleship goes into action. She cruises around the door, and she just says, "So, Hildebrand!" But it is like an ack-ack battery, and the windows rattle. Then woosh! I think it is a right arm swing which starts at the floor. When it smacks on his pan I also think someone has fired a double bunger. He does not fall over because it has stood himself against the wall.

"Wait, dear," he sez. "I can explain it all. A little joke. "Ha! Ha!" He laughs, which it sounds so funny, like a well-kept grave.

"Little joke-huh!" sez the better half of the Bullants..... Bang! This time it is a left hook, and the S.M. splits a table with his chin. When he cannons off the wall ' Marj. eases A.M.R. and Os on his bean.

No, I am getting mixed; it was the typewriter. Ma it was which used A.M.R. and Os. Well, all of which they do to Sergeant-Major Bullant it is like a commando raid. Then they breeze, and Marj. sez, "Thank you so much, George."

And Ma sez, "So, Hildebrand!" and breathes in her nose, and it sounds worsen any dirty crack I would bet which the mob could hand him.

They is gone a long, long time while there is no cheerful repartee between us. The Bullant is dusting of himself off.

Me, I am standing by the telephone - till 2400 hours.