marksmen, 8 First Class shots, and 11 Second Class shots. There are 13 more cadets to shoot at the time of writing.
As I said at the beginning the period has not been dull. I think the only discontented people were the recruits, who said they had too much drill!
F/Sgt. D. Wrenn.

CAPTAIN  KING
Replacing Captain Bull this term is Captain N. King, RAEC. Captain King attended Trinity College, Dublin, and Leeds University. He is living in Stirling with his wife and daughter of 2 - Tamasine. Not very fond of haggis-hunting. Captain King is, nevertheless, fairly interested in sailing, and hopes to spend some time with the School Sailing Club. Before coming to QVS Captain King visited the Duke of York's School in Dover for a short time, but we already have his oath of allegiance, and hope he enjoys his time here.

Occupational Hazard
I jumped into the train as it was pulling away from the platform, opened a carriage door, and deposited my brief-case on the rack. Pulling the latest copy of Argosyhom my overcoat pocket, I sat hurriedly down in the remaining corner-seat, and skimmed impatiently through the pages. Yes I There it was! -A Matter of Moments by Edward C. Smith. I looked proudly and tenderly at the title: my first appearance in the public eye as a writer.
Quickly I read through the story which I already knew by heart. I was pleased, and quite naively surprised, that there were no mistakes in the printing: it had seemed inevitable that something should go wrong with my first short story. But no ! there it was -just I had laboriously copied it out on the office typewriter.
I put the magazine down and gazed into the future. I saw myself as the writer of the year's best-selling novel, lauded by the critics, on the short list for the Nobel Prize for Literature - rich, famous, happy. However, my future was jerked back to the present when a voice said :
"Excuse me, but is that the new Argosy?"
I looked up and saw the questioner to be a small, rather ferrety-faced man, regarding me with an ingratiating smile. I replied :
"Yes I Would you like to borrow it ?"
The Ferret said he would and was there anything good in it?
Here was a marvellous opportunity: the chance

to find out what the ordinary "man-in-the-street" thought of my writing. The little man was immediately transformed from an ingratiating ferret to a wise, understanding critic.
"Oh yes," I replied. "There's a rather good story by a chap called Smith, Edward C. Smith. Can't say I've heard of him before, but to my mind he's got something. His story's a bit away from the ordinary, but perhaps you'd like to read it and see what you think?"
The little man seemed agreeable, so I turned back to the beginning of my story and handed it across to him. He took it, put on his glasses and began to read.
The few minutes taken up by his reading were a nightmare for me. What if he didn't like it ? I could, of course, treat his opinion as that of a literary ignoramus, but it was no good deluding myself -the lack of appreciation would rankle. I had just about convinced myself that I had been a fool to let him read it, when he finished. Methodically he removed his glasses, put them in their case and looked up at me. I was in a frenzy of anticipation. If only he'd say something !
He did.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" he said.
"Well?" I asked impatiently. "What did you think of it?"
"Mmmm !" he repeated. "As you say - it's got something."
I almost sighed out loud with relief: he'd liked it after all.
"Of course, it's a little far-fetched," he went on (and my pulse started to beat that little bit faster), "but that's a minor fault. It's really quite well written, and shows promise - definite promise. I think we might hear some more of this Smith fellow."
The man had echoed my sentiments exactly I How on earth could I ever have taken him for a ferret I He was obviously a man of discerning intellect. However, our communion of souls was interrupted, for the occupant of the other corner on my friend's side looked up from his paper.
"Excuse me butting in," he said, "but are you talking about that chappy Smith's story in this month's Argosy 1"
I looked at the questioner who had, up till now, been shrouded in the Financial Times. He was revealed as a large, florid type in a tweed suit of good cut, completely ruined by being teamed with an uncomfortably loud tie. Not at all the sort of chap I would choose as a life-long friend, but, after all, he was one of my "public", and as such his opinion was valuable. So I said :
"Yes, we were.   Have you read it?"
"Indeed I have! Not bad at all! Not bad at all I 'Course I don't hold with all this intellectual twaddle about style and such: give me a good yarn, and I'll read it. Odd sort of tale, really, I suppose, but not at