"Elijah Twing. Elijah! That's me: signaler corpril, passed aht at Canterbury, expert signaler, wiv two glags up, and droring proficiency pay. Gawd bli-me! Wiv a monniker like Elijah—an' the 'eathen Turks a-chasin' of me through these perishin' 'ills, leavin' me 'ere a-grillin' on the rocks.
"The sparrers fed Elijah in the wilderness, an' took 'im up in a bleedin' chariot of fire—w'ich couldn't 'ave been pleasant, if it was arf as 'ot as this sun on my backside, and the rock a-scorchin' of me in front. And Joshua 'e told the sun to stand still. Why? 'E was a blinkin' genril. 'E 'ad a bloody E.P. tent to sit under the shyde of. Wot did 'e care—grantin' it's all true—if 'is men 'ad to march in the 'eat, carryin' their rifles an' baynits, an' their bleedin' packs. 'E was a perishing officer. It's them as always 'as the best of it. 'Ere's us—roasting. Does the officer oo got us into this mess 'ave to lie 'ere an' bake? Nah. 'E cops it peaceful-like, an' leaves the likes of you an' me to be roasted, an' baked, an' potted, w'ile another officer, miles away across the bleedin' desert 'eliographs to us to trust in 'im—'e'll bloody well get us aht of it.
"Yuss; they'll get us aht of it—w'en we've snuffed it, and the —— wild 'ill Arabs 'as cut an' 'acked us, an' took our clobber off, and left us
