During the snow melt in 1941, Lance-Corporal Pinterman’s mother Gladys was swept away in an avalanche. Group Captain Cocklecarrot summoned Sergeant Baxter-Morley into his office.
“Sergeant, tell Pinterman his mother has died.”
At reveille next morning, the drill-sergeant ran through his usual order of the day. “Johnson and Hodgkinson, report for guard duty. Fotherington-Thomas, you are on latrines. Pinterman, your mother carked it: have the morning off. All right, men: fall out.”
Pinterman — a sensitive soul — was devastated. Not a month later, his father also died, taken by a bear.
Cocklecarrot once again called in his drill-sergeant. “I say, Baxter-Morley, Pinterman’s father popped his clogs. I need to let him know. But look here, Sergeant: the poor chap didn’t get out of his bed for two weeks last time. How about being a little more tactful this time?”
The sergeant clicked heels and exited, calling the unit to assemble at once.
“All right men, fall in. Now we are conducting a parenthood survey. Every one of you whose father is still alive, take three steps forward. PINTERMAN WHAT THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”