TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Gawd blimey, this the whole military High Command? …‘cept you, Pugwash,’ Jack folded over laughing. ‘I ‘eard you guys were having cut backs, a bit like us, but this takes the ship’s biscuit, ward room shut is it, no pink gins?’ and Jack roared more laughter. The General looked nervous, and Pugwash was fuming, the glowing light from the bar bringing out his rusty features, his clenched jaw sinews. The Captain was a tall and slender man with absolutely no presence, a receding chin contributed to that, and Jack thought if Pugwash had not been an arrogant martinet shite, this would serve his simpering manner well; a veritable modern day Uriah Heap, just lacking in the ‘umble.
The General clanked to a stand, to proffer a handshake and to get Len and Jack a drink. He was tugged o
