s strongly
tempted to turn back, but having got so far, I resolved to go on. My
teeth began to chatter. The man who had passed by me had already reached
the ablution shed and I could see a faint gleam from his candle in the
distance, so that I did not fear to lose my way.

I reached the shed and saw him standing with bared chest and shoulders,
gasping and shivering. I picked up a zinc basin and once more stepped
into the outer gloom. The well was only a few yards off--I could just
distinguish its black mouth. I placed my basin on the edge. I grasped
the cold, wet rope and lowered the bucket into the depth. I drew it up
again and emptied it into my basin--the bits of ice floating in the
water knocked sharply against the zinc.

I carried the basin back and placed it on the bench. My fingers were so
cold that it nearly slipped from them. I plunged my hands into the water
and quickly splashed face, chest and shoulders. The water was a dirty
grey colour and full of sand and grit. I rubbed myself with my towel and
began to glow. I emptied the basin and left the shed, glad to think that
this one unpleasant duty had been performed. My face was burning.

It was still snowing and the wind was blowing hard. I trudged through
the mud and soon felt frozen through and through again. Several dark
figures went by on their way to the shed. I could now just distinguish
the duckboards and I quickly reached my tent. I lifted the flap and
stepped in. Some of the mud, with which my boots were smothered up to
the tops, splashed on to the blankets belonging to a man who lay near
the entrance. He growled incoherently at me. Most of the other men were
up.

I finished dressing and put on my great-coat. I picked up my tin plate
and mug and went out into the darkness once again. I was afraid I might
have to stand in a long queue outside the cook-house, but fortunately
only a few men were waiting before me. I joined them and we marked time
at the double in a vain attempt at stilling the intolerable pain in our
frozen feet.

About ten minutes passed and then the front of the cook-house was thrown
open. A light appeared and a voice shouted: "Breakfast up!" We raised a
feeble cheer and filed past while one of the cooks poured tea into our
mugs and placed a fragile wisp of bacon on to each plate.

I balanced my mug in one hand, fearing to spill the tea, and the plate
in the other, fearing that the wind might blow away the thin bacon
fragment. The