from the man in front of me.

"Close in there, you with the glasses," bawled the Captain in a
resentful voice, as though my transgression were intended as a personal
insult. But his anger was diverted by another man and he shouted with
gathering fury:

"That tall man over there--hold your pick properly. Not like that, damn
it ... hold it at the point of balance--no, no, no, not like that ...
here, Sergeant, take that man's name and number and give it to the
Corporal of the Police. He'll do half an hour's extra shovel-drill this
evening."

We halted. The Sergeant made a note of the offender's name and then said
to us in an awestruck whisper: "Now mind yer dismiss prop'ly for
Christ's sake!"

We faced to the front and on the command "Dismiss!" we all turned to the
right, raised our picks and shovels and transferred them from our right
hands to our left, touched the peaks of our caps with our right hands,
turning the palms outwards, paused a moment and then broke away.

"Fall in, fall in--very bad, very bad, absolutely disgraceful!" bawled
our infuriated C.O. "If you don't do it correctly this time, you'll get
an hour's extra drill every day for a week! Now dismiss them again,
Sergeant!"

The prospect of extra drill filled us with dismay. Sore shouldered,
stiff, and aching in every limb, oppressed and wearied in mind and body,
we only had one intense desire--to get away, to hide somewhere, to enjoy
at least a brief spell of warmth and comfort.

The Sergeant gave the command, and we dismissed a second time. We went
through the absurd performance with anxious punctiliousness, but three
men, either through fear, weariness or carelessness, made some slight
mistakes and their names were taken for extra drill.

As soon as the men were off the parade ground there was a wild stampede
in the direction of the cook-house.

The scramble became a mad hustle. The men raced along the duckboards or
splashed through the mud in a frantic attempt to get served first,
pulling their mess-tins and plates out of their haversacks as they ran.

It was growing dark and a few snowflakes were floating about in the air.
The sky was a murky leaden colour.

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 stret