The RSM and the Rabbit

Putting my foot down to keep an appointment, I narrowly missed a car coming in the opposite direction on a winding stretch of road between Crickhowell and Brecon. My passenger sucked air through his teeth and said: "That was a close one." I agreed with him and thought to myself: "I should have known better," bringing to mind an incident that occurred on the same stretch of road many years before.
On that day, I was cruising along quite pleasantly when I saw a car lying on its side ahead of me. As I approached, I saw one of the doors open, like the conning tower of a submarine, and a head appear. I pulled up, got out of my car and went across to the other vehicle to see if I could help. The passenger who was climbing out of the car was the Regimental Sergeant Major of the unit with which I was serving. I placed my arms around him and with me pulling and he pushing, he came out of the car like a whelk out of a shell. The second whelk in the same shell was the Provost Sergeant. With more heaving, he was also lifted clear.
A small crowd had gathered, all eager to help, but there were no serious injuries. The RSM appeared to be concussed though as he was sitting on the bank with a dazed expression on his face. "Are you alright RSM?" I asked. "Yes thank you, sir," he replied, "but its my rabbit I'm worried about. It's still in the car."
I looked at the car and saw petrol starting to flow from underneath; I hurried across the road and peered inside through one of the windows. Huddled in the corner of the passenger door, under the glove compartment was a large white rabbit.
"Hang on to my legs," I shouted to someone who was standing close by. "Don't be a fool," he said. "The car may blow up any minute." "Just do what I tell you," I commanded. When I felt his hands grip me by my ankles, I reached downwards through the horizontally positioned door, grabbed the rabbit and wriggled my way up again. Petrol was pouring out of the car as the fellow who was holding me by the legs gave a final pull which deposited me and the rabbit onto the road. A cheer went up from the onlookers and a few of them patted me on the back. One woman who had a camera took a photograph of me and said: "That's the bravest thing I've ever seen. I'm going to tell the RSPCA what you've done." I accepted all these plaudits and felt a warm glow of pride.
I had assumed that the rabbit was either concussed, like the RSM, or was so tame that it was thankful to be in my arms. But when I looked at it closely, I could see its eyes were open and lifeless. The glow of pride was overtaken by a feeling of sadness. "One little boy or girl is going to shed tears when he or she is told that the rabbit has met with a fatal accident," I thought.
I took the corpse across to the RSM and said: "I'm very sorry but the rabbit is dead." I put it gently in his hands and he inspected it closely. "You had me puzzled for a minute, sir," he said. "It's been dead for some time. I bought it in the butcher's this afternoon. I'm having it for my supper tonight."
I hastily asked the woman who had taken the photograph not to bother about going to the RSPCA. I told her I was shy about publicity.