, Palestine, and Mesopotamia.

The winter was over and the fine weather had set in. For several months
we had been working in a wood-yard and saw-mills. Our lives had become
unspeakably monotonous, but the coming of warm days banished much of our
dreariness. The hazy blue sky was an object of real delight. I often
contrived to slip away from my work and lean idly against a wall in the
mild sunshine. At times I was so filled with the sense of physical
well-being, and so penetrated by the sensuous enjoyment of warmth and
colour, that I even forgot the war.

At the bottom of the wood-yard was a little stream, and on the far bank
clusters of oxlips were in bloom. Here we would lie down during the
midday interval and surrender to the charm of the spring weather. It
seemed unnatural and almost uncanny that we should be happy, but there
were moments when we felt something very much like happiness. Moreover,
it was rumoured that leave was going to start. How glorious it would be
to spend a sunny May or June in England!

Once a fortnight we paraded for our pay outside one of the bigger sheds
of the yard. As a rule, I was filled with impatience and irritation at
having to wait in a long queue and move forward step by step, but now it
had become pleasant to tarry in the sunshine. One day, when we were
lined up between two large huts, a deep Yellow Brimstone butterfly came
floating idly past. It gave me inexpressible delight, a delight tempered
by sadness and a longing for better times. I drew my pay and saluted
perfunctorily, being unable and unwilling to think of anything but the
beauty of the sky, the sun, and the wonderful insect.

I held my three ten-franc notes in my hand and thought: "I _will_ enjoy
this lovely day to the full. When we get back to camp I will do without
the repulsive army fare, I will dine at the St. Martin and buy a bottle
of the best French wine, even if it costs me twenty francs. And then
I'll walk to the little wood on the hill-slope and there I'll lie all
the evening and dream or read a book."

The whistle sounded. It was time to go back to work. But I cursed the
work and decided to take the small risk and remain idle for an hour or
two. I went to an outlying part of the yard and sat down on a patch of
long grass and leant back against a shed. The air was hot and several
bees flew by. Their buzzing reminded me of summer holidays spent in
southern France before the war. I thought of vineyards and orc