and crutches.
Sam Hughes was regarded by most serving soldiers as a posturing clown, and those forced to use the Ross rifle despised him with an intensity not normally attributed to bland Canadian politicians. We regarded him as a war-profiteer and a murderous buffoon. He had long been a focus for my anger and I suspect that of everyone else in the room.
One of the senior officers jumped in. “Gentlemen, in all my years I have never seen a general officer or a minister of the Crown treated in such an insulting and offensive manner.” To which someone at the back of the room drawled, “Yeah, well then, Sir Sam isn’t exactly a real general is he? More like a Kentucky colonel, don’t you think?”
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