Joys of Being a Second Looey

Flak, Volume 1, Issue 7, 11 June 1943, Page 5

Joys of Being a Second Looey

Gifted writers have told us some of the joys of being a Second Looey; of having the privilege of being blackmailed into going to dances, of receiving blasts from higher up, of carrying out the orders of one superior and earning his blessing while getting a kick in the neck from another, but no one' has yet mentioned • the bane of all second looey’s lives —to wit Courts of Inquiry.” Evidently someone thought I was too happy, so I received a duckie little chit one day ordering me to report to a certain H.Q. (military secret) to inquire into the loss of two botles of wine. After duly being installed behind a table laden with a Bible, one pen (useless), one bottle of water, a waddie (for self protection), and a beautiful Waac perched two feet away with a typewriter, I started. Me: What do you know of the looting of liquor? Witness: The liquor was looted from the liquor locker. Me: Was there a lock on the liquor locker? Witness: Yes, a black lacquer lock was on the liquor locker. Me: Did you notice if the liquor locker lacked a black lacquer lock? Witness: Yes, when I looked the black lacquered lock on the liquor locker was lacking. Here wild screams and frenzied sobbing interrupted my examination. I looked round, and the por Waac typewriteress was gibbering and tearing her hair. I hastily adjourned the Court and cirank the evidence.

At one time I was defending a man at a court martial. He’d been absent 30 days. “Here’s my chance to shine,” thought I. “Not only will I get him off, I’ll probably get promotion too.” I visualised hard-boiled Colonels and Majors bursting into tears at my stiring defence, the prisoner being found

“Not Guilty,” and cheered lustily by the Court. Altogether a beautiful picture. However, it didn’t work out that way. They called on me to speak. My beautiful speech was. forgotten. I swallowed hastily and said: “The accused worked on the wharf for three days; he was drunk on the proceeds the rest of the time.” I sat down, absolutely done. My next coherent thought was one of admiration at the ob- - scenities directed at me by my client as they lead him away to six weeks’ hard labour. Aw’ gee, wot’s the use? Who’d be a second looey? — GYPYSY QUEEN “ODE TO AEWS” When first the AEWS Was born, I really must confess I thought the thing would more-or-less be one colossal b —-— mess. But no; the scheme has come to stay, Arrangements now are on the way, To make our Army life more gay, And P’r’aps increase our post-war pay. They teach you French and Latin prose, And how a Diesel engine goes, And Waacs, to subjugate their woes Can try designing pretty clothes. You’ll learn all these, and other tricks, And once a week you see the “flicks.” They even teach young Country hicks The gentle art of sexing chicks. So if you want to stitch or sew, Or learn just how to dig and hoe, Or how to take a Waac in tow, Why then, consult your UEO.