This month that saltiest monarch, beloved King George, who swears unprintable quarter-deck oaths exclusively, has been working up through the Royal Air Force and the Army to the final and greatest pageant of his Silver Jubilee year, the naval review last week at Spithead, off Portsmouth. "Fly Past/— Three brand new Baby Rolls-Royces were at His Majesty's disposal when he went down to Mildenhall, Suffolk, to view some $5,000,000 worth of fighting aircraft which had nearly burned up in a huge grass fire night before. Stepping into an apple-green Baby Rolls, and wearing for the first time in his life the blue uniform of Marshal of the Royal Air Force. George V rolled safely along the ground past 38 squadrons totaling 350 planes.
Though machine guns rigged to fire through airplane propellers without hitting the spinning blades were among the first air developments of the War, the King asked with his affection-winning candor: "How is that possible?" His question having been answered at length, the 70-year-old Sovereign chuckled contentedly: "Soon I shall know all about these things."
Next the motorcade sped 32 miles to Duxford where Queen Mary was waiting to have luncheon. In high good humor King George cracked jokes and roared with mirth during the meal. Thus two hours were whiled away, every minute being needed to get 182 fighting ships into the air ready for the "Fly Past" over Duxford. This was made at the unusually high altitude for an air force review of 1,000 feet "because the king is greatly affected by noise." So were 150,000 spectators. Even at 1,000 feet the menacing clatter of the air armada filled Britons less with pride than fear. The great throng at the climax of the "Fly Past" seemed stricken dumb. Sober faces were eloquent of what everyone was thinking: "These are our planes, but they might be Germany's."
"Guns Right!" The Army display, with George V turned out at Aldershot as a Field Marshal in khaki uniform and field boots, was more cheerful. Since His Majesty's horse is also affected by noise, the audience of 50,000 was requested not to cheer until he had safely dismounted. Then pandemonium burst from loyal throats in cheer on cheer while the Royal Field Marshal was got in the shade of a pavilion and 9,000 warriors—a full-strength British war division—began marching, trotting, speeding and clanking past. Over one-half of this modern Army display was not afoot or ahorse. So-called "motor cavalry" dashed past in light cars. Heavy tanks saluted the King Emperor by turning their gun turrets with massive precision to the angle U. S. soldiers call "eyes right." After God Save the King had been played so softly that it sounded like a prayer, the cry rose "Three cheers for His Majesty!" As they were given the royal right hand remained motionless in a long, long appreciative salute, George V's way of thanking his subjects.