Talk about a poem, his salute has Shakespeare faded.

Now he's going to move them off.

Watch and listen!" "Ye-a-ou-w!" came the long-drawn cry, fiercely threatening, representing in English speech the word "squad." Then followed an expletive, "Yun!" which for explosive quality made a rifle crack seem a drawl, and which appeared to release in the men a hidden spring drawn to its utmost tension.

The slack and sagging line leaped into a rigid unit, of breathless, motionless humanity.
"Aw-e-ou-aw!" a prolonged vocalisation, expressive of an infinite and gentle pity, and interpreted to the initiated ear to mean "As you were!" released the rigid line to its former sagging state.
"N-a-w then," said the voice in a semi-undertone, slow and tense, "this ain't no arter dinner bloomin' siester.

A little snap--ple--ease!" The last word in a sharply rising inflection, tightening up the spring again for the explosive "Ye-a-ou-w--yun!" (Squad attention.) "Aw-e-ou-r--yun!!! Aw-e-ou-r--yun!!!" Without warning came the commands, repeating "As you were!" "Attention!" He walked up and down before the rigid line, looking them over and remarking casually, "Might be a little worse," adding as an afterthought, "per-haps!" After which, with a sharp right turn, and a quick march, he himself leading with a step of clean-cut, easy grace, he moved them to the bayonet-fighting ground.
"By Jove!" breathed Barry.