There was a formula for the password, which always consisted of a seven-letter word, Victory, for example. In theory, the patrol, when challenged, the patrol would prove its bona fides by responding with whichever letter of Victory corresponded with the day of the week using the Morse alphabet. Thus, if it was Sunday, the correct reply was the first letter of Victory, which was Victor. If Monday, Ink, if Tuesday, Charlie, and so on. Who thought this up, I don't know. But if he could have heard Grandarse who seldom knew what day it was at the best of times and couldn't spell anything longer than "pint" trying to persuade Forster that he was not a Japanese White Tiger, he would have thought of something less sophisticated. You may imagine the exchange:
Grandarse: (hoarsely from the dark): Is that thoo, Marra? It's me.
Forster (being awkward): Victory.
Grandarse: Ye wa'at? Awm shit, aye...Victory. Haud on, noo. (to a fellow patroller) 'Eym Wattie, w'at day is't? Thoorsdeh - awreddy? Girraway! Aye, weel, let's see...Moondeh, Choosdeh, Wensdeh, Thoorsdeh - v....i...c...aye, t, that'll be reet! Tock! 'Ey, thoo on stag, Ah'm sayin' Tock! Are ye theer?
Forster (knowing it was Thursday when the patrol left, but that midnight has passed): Booger off, yer a fifth columist!
Grandarse: Bloody 'ell! Whee the 'ell's that? Thoo, Forster, ye git! W'at ye playin' at? It's me, sayin' Tock!
Forster (relenting): It's Friday, ye daft sod!
Grandarse: Ah, the hell! W'at is't then? Orange?
Forster: Awreet, bollock-brain. Coom in if yer feet's clean.
