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Page 7
We wiped our plates on an old sock or a rag or a piece of newspaper and
packed them into our haversacks together with our mugs and rations for
the day--a chunk of bread and a dirty piece of cheese. I tied up my
boots--the laces were covered with liquid clay--and put on my puttees
which were hard and stiff with caked mud. It was a quarter-past five and
I lay down at full length, glad to have a few minutes to myself. But the
pain in my feet became intolerable--I jumped up and stamped the floor of
the tent, grinding my teeth with mortification.
Several of the men had not come in yet with their breakfasts. We could
tell by the banging of mess-tins, mugs and plates, and by the angry
shouts of "Get a move on," that a long queue was still waiting in front
of the cook-house.
Suddenly the tent-flap bulged inwards and two hands, the one holding a
full mug and the other a plate, forced their way through. They were
followed by a head and shoulders. Thereupon the man tried to step in,
but he tripped over the brailing underneath the flap, and plunged
forward, spilling the greater part of his tea. He uttered a savage,
snarling oath, walked over to his place and sat down, growling and
cursing under his breath.
Another man followed. As he pushed his way through the entrance the
shoulder-strap of his tunic caught one of the hooks on the flap and his
progress was sharply arrested. He held out his mug and plate helplessly,
but no one moved to assist him.
"Take these bloody things orf me, can't yer!" he shouted with furious
resentment. Someone jumped up and took the mug and plate, while the
newcomer freed himself from the hook.
It was five-and-twenty past five when the last of us came in with his
breakfast. But before he could reach his place there was a loud blast of
a whistle, and a distant voice shouted, "On Parade!"
The irritation that had been accumulating since reveill� burst out.
"Why can't they let yer finish yer breakfast--'tain't 'alf-past yet, not
be a long way!"
"They treat yer like pigs!"
"We're a bloody lot o' fools ter stand it--that's the worst o' this mob
though, yer'll never get 'em ter stick together an' do anythink."
"I bet the C.O.'s enjoyin' 'isself...." A stream of filthy language
followed--abuse of the Commanding Officer, abuse of the army, abuse of
the war, and abuse of the Government. The man could find no other way of
expressing himself with adequate force and crudity. At times he became
incoherent.
He was not grumbling at the little hardships and discomforts of this
particular morning. He was grumbling at an entire life of discomfort. He
was rebelling against his degrading slavery and enforced misery, and it
was the harrowing consciousness of his own impotence that added such
bitterness to his anger.
Not one of us left the tent. There was a second blast of the whistle,
louder and more prolonged than the first, followed by an angrier "On
Parade!"
We stepped out into the cold air one by one and splashed and plodded
through the slush in surly reluctant fashion. The day had just begun to
dawn, and in the grey twilight I could perceive innumerable dingy
figures moving slowly towards the parade ground amid the falling snow.
A long double line of men had already formed up. The Sergeant-Major blew
his whistle a third time and shouted "On Parade--get a bloody move on!"
Masses of men came straggling up and the line grew longer and longer.
Another double line was formed behind it, and then a third and fourth.
Nearly everybody was on parade, only a few here and there were coming
over from the tents. The Sergeant-Major observed them and shouted to the
Corporal of the Police: "Corporal, take those men's names--have 'em up
for orderly room this evening." Then he turned to us. "If you can't turn
out a bit smarter, I'll have you on parade ten minutes earlier--this is
the last warning yer'll get."
The Police Corporal was standing over by the tent-lines, entering the
names of the stragglers in his notebook. I could see a solitary figure
issue furtively from a tent and slink round the bottom of the parade
ground in order to join us from behind and escape observation. I wished
him success and followed his movements with interest. But just as he was
darting into the ranks, one of our Sergeants caught sight of him and
said to the Sergeant-Major: "There's a man what's just fell in over
there, sir."
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