jolly, laughing officers, who apparently
had no thought in the world other than the enjoyment of various wines
and viands, were soon to set out on a pioneer raid against a far-distant
German industrial centre. For the Bedouins made the best of the
present; they all knew what a long-distance raid over Germany usually
meant; many of their jolly comrades would not be seen again. So they
made merry at dinner and drank each other's health. The wine, however,
was light, and even the most reckless Bedouin drank it in tiny sips, for
the work to be done was important. The personal dangers of the raid the
reckless Bedouins might ignore, but they knew that these raids fitted
into the general tactical plan of operations; consequently, every
Bedouin was imbued with a spirit of determination in spite of an
apparent frivolity.

On entering the ward-room a few moments before dinner, the guest of the
Bedouin mess would have been greeted joyfully by the officers who were
singing lustily in perfect tune with a piano which was very much out of
tune. A few moments later he would see these rollicking fellows stand
silently at attention on the entry of the Commanding Officer until
"Good-evening, gentlemen," from the C.O. granted them permission to
"carry on."

Before the chief steward announced dinner, "aperitifs" were passed
around; then the C.O. led the way from the ward-room into the adjoining
mess, where the officers stood at attention on each side of the long
table until the C.O. said, "Gentlemen, be seated." If any one came in
late to dinner, he apologized to the C.O. before taking his place at the
table; and no matter how oily and dirty he may have been a few moments
earlier, he entered the mess clean, freshly shaven, and in neat uniform.
This mess etiquette, as it was called, did not interfere in any way with
the good-fellowship existing between the C.O. and his junior officers;
but it prevented men who had been away from home and the society of
ladies for many years from growing lax in manners and careless of
personal appearance.

After dinner, decanters of port were passed around and the King's health
was drunk: "Gentlemen, The King."

This toast means nothing to us Americans unless we have drunk it among
British officers at the front. Under such conditions, "Gentlemen, The
King," is a call to patriotism, a spur to endeavor, and an ideal of
courage which must be lived up to. We Americans are so apt to think of a
king as a despo