My final defeat was due to a chance remark of my own, made to one of
the fifty-nine officers under whose direct command I served. Upon
my first arriving on his Staff he had said to me, "Oh, by the way,
P.S.C., of course?" Quite affable, frank and to the point; "P.S.C., of
course?"

Not knowing the language, I could not make an equally affable answer.
I asked him to repeat the question, but to change the code.

"You have Passed Staff College, of course?" he said a little less
affably.

I then had the misfortune to answer: "Why, of course, if you mean that
tall building on the right as I came up here from the station?"

He then made up his mind that I was not only wanting in essential
parts, but was also the sort of person who jested on religious
subjects. He never forgot the matter; indeed, when applied to (under
"Secret and Confidential" cover) to suggest a means of getting rid of
me, he very clearly remembered it. At once every department in the War
House got busy; the interest of the Secretary of State was enlisted,
and the War Cabinet decided that for permanent purposes my post
must necessarily be held by a P.S.C. man. Done in by what was little
better, when you come to think of it, than a mere postscript.

Please understand that there was no talk of discharging me; no talk
of demobilising me; no talk even of disembodying me. Without any
reflection on my conduct and merely upon the grounds that, not being
P.S.C., I could not be regarded as quite right in the head, they