A toast to the field marshals

August may not be the cruellest month but it is often the most dangerous one. Now that it is over, and rosé is giving way to grouse, we can console ourselves. There has not been a world war. We merely face a number of middle–ranking crises.

Over fortifying bottles, I was chatting about such matters with friends who had known the late Peter Inge, a dominating figure even by field marshal standards. It was said that in his company, brigadiers’ coffee cups would rattle with tension. I once taxed him with the contrast between his reputation as a martinet’s martinet and his geniality in private life. ‘If there is any truth in what you say – which of course I deny – remember that as Commander-in-Chief in Germany, I could put brigadiers and indeed major-generals through the fire, just as I had been by Baggy [Field Marshal Nigel Bagnall] and see what they were made of.