Nissen News - 15.12.1941, Page 16

14
NISSEN NEWS
FaithfuI under Difficulties
“Y o u could surely write us an inter-
esting article for our Unit magazine,” said
He- Who Must Be Obeyed, and there was
that in his voice which hinted that “No”
would not be the appropriate answer.
“Why, sure,” I said with a smile that
matched his own. (At least, I said “Yes,
sir,” — same thing, anyway). There’s
nothing in this writing business; all you
need is' a catchy title and a subject to
write about. Anyone can knock off a few
hundred words if lie feels like it.
So here is the gem of wisdom which
the Powers that Be think I am capable
of writing. The question is, of course,
“What shall we write about?” When one
writes for the public’s edification, one.
s h o u 1 d have something to say —
though that isn’t so essential in these
days, I suppose, when inost scribblings
and orations are intended to convey the
opposite impression to what they declare.
Might say a few words about Christ-
mas — season ol' goodwill and all that
sort of thing. But maybe Christmas will
be over by the time this gets into print
— if it gets into print. Too uncertain
— better leave it alone.
How about a colourful picture of the
Northern Lights? Folk at home might
like that. Hasn’t been much written on
the. subject since we came to Iceland,
Wait a bit though — the boys have seen
as much as they want to see of nocturnal
phenomena. Got to cater for both sides
of the water. ’Fraid that’s out.
Leave! Now there’s a topic that
England a n d Iceland are interested in.
Most important business, too. Hang it, no!
That won’t do. Boys have either had
their leave and don’t want reminding
about it, or else they’ll get it soon, and
will know all about it.
Our garrison in Iceland? How about
that? A lofty impressive theme — all
about our hardships, our grit and our
frozen feet. Might air a few personal
grievances’, too. No, I’m damned if I will!
Duff, Linklater and the Bishop of Aber-
deen and Orknies have forestalled me.
No-one would believe anything I wrote
now, and I’d probably fall foul of the
censor in any case.
There doesn’t seem much left to write
about. I’m beginning to think authorship
is an over-rated pastime after all. Too
many people to please, too many snags,
too many blighters got there first.
Let’s see now. There’s hut building and
road-making — ye gods, the boys would
lynch me! Such cold weather for lynch-
ings too.
Well then, there is one thing left.
Would you like to hear about a holiday
I once spent in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgo-
gerychwrndrobwllandisiliogogoch ? You
wouldn’t? Anyway, I’ve been dying to get
that word in print for a long time.
He Who Must Be Obeyed has just look-
ed through what I’ve written and says
not to bother about the article this time.
There isn’t room for it anyway.
Now I can get back to reading my
“Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”
(in 8 vols.). That fellow Gibbon had
got something to w’rite about!
W.
“SNOWIE’S” ODE TO HIS TRUCK.
“Where are you?
Where have you gone without me?
I can’t go on without you,
Where are you?”
NOT GUILTY.
It wasn’t one of our boys who treated
a “casualty” for a fractured femur he had
not got, and, when asked why, pointed
to the patient’s forehead and said “A.T.S.
— means “Apply Thomas Splint”, don’t
it?”