As I stood waiting in the dinner queue I had an imaginary fight with our Commanding Officer. I knocked him down and gloated over him as he lay sprawling in the mud with my hand savagely clutching his throat. Our pent up feelings often found relief in vindictive dreams.

The queue stretched along the duckboards and in between the tents like a dingy snake in the gathering gloom. It was rapidly growing in length as more and more men came hurrying up.

But the front of the cook-house was still closed. The men grew impatient and banged their plates and tins. There were shouts of "Get a move on."

Fretful, smouldering impatience increased until it flared up in anger.

"Get a b.l.o.o.d.y move on--we want somethin' ter eat after a 'ard day's work!... _We've_ got a fine b.l.o.o.d.y lot o' cooks, keepin' us waitin' in the b.l.o.o.d.y cold--get a move on, for Christ's sake!"

The shout was taken up all along the line--"Get a b.l.o.o.d.y move on"--and tins and plates were banged until the uproar was deafening. It gradually died down again, although curses and resentful remarks were still frequent.

"'Tain't worth eatin' when yer do get it!"

"Bleed'n' stew, I s'pose, 'nough ter make yer go queer!"

"I wouldn't feed me dog on the stuff they give yer in the army--I wouldn't 'ave the cheek ter orfer it to 'im."

"Come on ... put a jerk in it"--the cry was taken up again. There was hooting and booing and banging of plates until pandemonium reigned once more.

Suddenly the shutter in front of the cook-house was pushed up and one of the cooks appeared in the opening. The booing changed into loud, ironical cheers:

"What yer bin doin' all day? Swingin' the lead?"

A squeaky voice retorted: "I've bin up since four in the mornin' workin'

a b.l.o.o.d.y sight 'arder 'n what you 'ave. Yer never satisfied, yer bleed'n' lot o'...." The rest was drowned in a storm of derisive shouts.

Then the men in the queue took up the argument again.

"Yer too slow--yer could'n catch the measles!"

"You come an' do my job an' see 'ow yer like it!"

"Do _your_ job! No b.l.o.o.d.y fear, why, 'tain't a man's job at all, it's only old women what goes inter the cook-'ouse."

"Go on, get a move on--don't stand there talkin'!"

Another cook appeared. He dipped his ladle into a receptacle behind the till and emptied into the first man's plate. The next man held out his plate, and then the next. The c.u.mbrous serpent moved forward inch by inch while a counter movement began of men straggling back through the slush, holding up tins or plates of steaming stew.

Two candles were burning inside my tent. The men were sitting on their kits. The noisy manner in which they ate was irritating beyond measure.

After the meal I went over to the tent of a friend. He was sitting by a flickering candle in moody silence. I asked him to come with me to the village. He put on his great-coat and we walked along the duckboards on to the road. It was intensely dark and we were conscious of the silent fall of snow.

"What sort of a day did you have?" I asked.

"Undiluted misery. We marched to the quarry and when we got there we found there was nothing to do, because the train hadn't turned up. So we waited in the wind and snow, just walking up and down, stamping with our feet and trying to get warm. Lieutenant Rowlatt was in charge of us. He wouldn't let us leave the quarry or go into an estaminet. And he only gave us half an hour for dinner. Of course he spent most of the time in an estaminet himself, eating eggs and chips and flirting with the girl ... I couldn't keep warm and there was no shelter anywhere. It was like doing an eight-hour guard."

All the windows in the streets of the village were shuttered, but the light shone through cracks and c.h.i.n.ks--a promise of warmth within that cheered us a little.

We entered an estaminet. It was crowded. Soldiers were standing round the walls waiting for vacant seats. We went to another place, but that too was crowded. Indeed, they were all crowded. Nevertheless, it was better to stand in the warmth than to walk about stiff-limbed in the slush and falling snow. We went into the next estaminet we came to. We entered the main room. An oil lamp was hanging from the ceiling. In the middle there was a long table and soldiers were seated round it, squeezed tightly together, eating eggs and chips and drinking wine or coffee. We leaned up against the wall with a number of others and waited our turn. The air was hot and moist and smelt of stale tobacco, burning fat, and steaming clothes. There was a glowing stove at one end of the room. It looked like a red-hot spherical urn on a low black pedestal. A big bowl of liquid fat was seething on the fire. A woman with flaming cheeks was throwing handfuls of sliced potatoes into it while she held a saucepan in which a number of eggs were spluttering. The heat was becoming intolerable and we edged away from the stove. We waited patiently. More and more men came in until there was no standing room left. The conversation was boisterous and vulgar, much of it at the expense of the woman, who laughed frequently and pretended to feel shocked and called the soldiers "Naughty boyss." A few men rose from the table from time to time and at last our turn came, so that we were able to sit down. We ordered eggs and chips and _vin blanc_, but had to wait a long time before we got them. I rested my head on my hand and struggled hard with sleep. At last the woman brought us the things we had ordered and we ate and drank in silence. We would have been glad to sit and doze in this warm place in spite of the smell and noise, but when we had finished we felt obliged to get up and make room for others.

We stepped out into the darkness. The snow had turned into rain that fell in a steady drizzle. I was so tired that I had no desire left except to get back to my tent.

"I wonder how much longer this is going to last?" I said to my friend.

"I've given up hoping. The war's a deadlock that may continue for years.

All I look forward to now is the spring and the warm weather. And perhaps we shall get leave some day."

"We've only been out here six weeks--we won't get leave for another eight or nine months."

"It's something to think about and look forward to, anyhow."

We said good-night to each other and retired to our tents. Most of the men were already in bed. They were smoking their cigarettes as they lay stretched out on the floor. One of them was reading a newspaper by candlelight. I wrapped myself up in my blankets and wedged myself tightly in between my two neighbours. Although I was wearied out, I felt compelled to glance at a paper. There might perhaps be some hint of peace, some little glimmer of hope to go to sleep with and dream about.

I took up my copy of the _Times_ which I received irregularly. I began to read the leading article but was so irritated by its unctuous hypocrisy that I turned the page over and scanned the headlines.

Suddenly a big drop of water splashed on to it. I became aware of the rain outside, swishing down upon the canvas, and, looking up, I saw a glistening patch of moisture collect above my head. Another heavy drop descended, I stretched out my arm and pushing my fist against the wet patch drew it down the canvas as far as the brailing. But the moisture continued to gather, and soon it was dripping in many places. My kit-bag, standing upright next to me, was getting wet, so I placed the _Times_ over it and let the water trickle off towards the ditch. Then a man shouted from the other side of the tent:

"It's coming through like anything, my whole pillow's sopping wet."

It was more than he could bear. Each little discomfort taken separately would have been altogether negligible. But when petty discomforts acc.u.mulate there comes a time when one more, however small it be, has the effect of a sudden infliction. He ground his teeth with fury at those pattering drops of water, but the realization of impotence seemed to descend upon him with such power that he lay back and closed his eyes, a prey to violent mental agitation. Then he uttered a foul oath, blew out his candle, pulled the blanket over his head and tried to go to sleep. I heard one of the other men laugh and say good-humouredly, "'E's gettin' on--'e'll soon be swearin' wi' the best of us."

The man referred to was rather refined and had resisted the habit of swearing far longer than any of us. I was amused, and my own equanimity, which had been on the verge of collapse, was restored by this incident.

I was conscious of irresistible weariness and called out with a yawn: "Good night all," and the answer came "Good-night!" Then I heard someone singing ironically: "When you come to the end of a perfect day." I began to feel warm and was filled with a sense of intense comfort. I could hear the water dripping on to my coat, but I had become indifferent to it. My limbs were so tired that to rest them was an exquisite luxury.

And then sleep came with a sudden, overwhelming rush.

We felt refreshed and yet indolent when we heard the steps of the Police Corporal splashing through the mud at half-past five the next morning.

He banged the tent and shouted: "Reveille--breakfast at six, parade at six-thirty." We enjoyed a few minutes in bed. I ran my fingers through my hair and found that it was soaked. My pillow--a shirt stuffed with spare clothing--was wet also, but the rain was no longer beating down on the canvas. The air inside the tent was pervaded by a foul, acrid stench. I threw the flap aside and looked out. The vast expanse of steely blue was dotted with glittering stars and on the eastern horizon it merged into a faint pallor. The air was deliciously fresh. We got up one by one, yawning, groaning and grumbling, and dressed and went out to wash.

As I stood in the breakfast queue I saw that the east was shot with a delicate rose colour. The purity of the dawn seemed extraordinarily beautiful compared with the sordid dinginess of the mud and khaki that were always with us.

We paraded, but at first the parade did not seem so tedious as usual. I was in the rearmost rank, standing next to a friend, Private Cowan, and we were able to converse in whispers. He remarked that the morning was like a "symphony in blue and gold." Even the glistening mud, usually so hideous, was flecked with luminous patches. But my feet were becoming numb and cold again. I felt that the pain they were giving me was about to deprive me of all pleasure in the rising sun to which I had been looking forward ever since reveille. I fought against it, but it was stronger than I. I became angry and trod the mud in order to get warm. I gave up the attempt and waited impatiently for the end of the parade.

When the sun's rim cut the horizon and sent a shaft of light across the land, it merely irritated me.

Three lorries arrived, our party was called out, we left the parade ground and scrambled into them. They quickly bore us to the place where we had worked the day before.

The sun was shining brightly. The long rows of stacked sleepers stretched out before us. We wondered what our work would be. Someone suggested we would have to restack the sleepers in their former places and we did not consider the suggestion absurd.

Our Sergeant had gone to get instructions. He returned and told us a mistake had been made the day before. We nearly groaned with apprehension. He leered at us and did not, for a moment, say what the mistake had been. Then he told us:

"It's all right, me lads. I was only pullin' yer legs a bit. Yer needn't get the wind up, yer 'aven't got ter put 'em back. This is what 'as 'appened. Yer was supposed ter spend two days on the job an' yesterday yer did two days' work in one. I see the officer about it an' 'e says yer worked b.l.o.o.d.y fine an' says 'e won't 'ave yer workin' ter day although there's plenty o' other things ter do. 'E says yer ter go back ter camp an' 'ave a good rest. 'E ain't 'alf a toff, I tell yer."

This announcement was followed by loud cheers. We scrambled back into the lorries. Everyone was jubilant at the prospect of having a holiday, and there was shouting and singing as the lorries sped along. We reached the camp and jumped out. We were dismayed at seeing our Commanding Officer walking about and conversing with the Sergeant-Major.

As we marched into the camp the C.O. said to our Sergeant: "Where've these men come from?" The Sergeant explained. "They've got the day off, have they? Kit inspection at ten o'clock!"

Our hearts sank and several of the men muttered something between their teeth. Our Sergeant, however, screwed up a little courage for once and explained that we had worked exceptionally hard the day before and that the officer in charge had promised us a holiday. The S.M. intervened in the discussion and pleaded on our behalf. At last the C.O., after walking up and down impatiently, said:

"Very well, we'll drop the inspection--they'll have to go to the baths though!"

We were elated beyond measure and when we were dismissed we saluted with all the smartness of which we were capable in order to please the Captain, and walked off the parade ground in the strictest regulation manner. Once they were off the parade ground the men rushed towards their tents, hallooing like schoolboys.

The baths were not unwelcome, although to stand in a tub under a thin drip of hot water in front of a broken window through which a cold gust of wind came and whistled round our shoulders, was no pleasure. But the ordeal was quickly over and before eleven o'clock in the morning most of us were free to do as we pleased. The greater part of the day was still before us and the morrow was a long way off.