“Get a move on, you idlers!” RSM Deblin shouted. “We’re going on another little cruise! I hope you enjoyed your holiday in Cyprus. Move it!”
“Where to this time?” Miller asked. “Malta? Through the Gut to England? Or over to Egypt?”
“Do you know what I think?” Bullard asked and continued before Miller could reply. “I think the politicians and officers don’t know what to do. I can see them sending us back to India before long. We’ll never see England again!” He whistled a few bars and began to sing:
“A gay fusilier was marching down through Rochester,
Bound for the war in the Low Country,
And he cried as he tramped through the dear streets of Rochester,
Who’ll be a soldier for Marlbro with me?
Who’ll be a sojer, who’ll be a sojer for Marlbro with me?
And he cried as he tramped throug
