"Party--Tshn! Into File--Right Turn! By the Right--Quick March!"

As we passed out of the camp each of us drew a shovel or a pick from a
great heap of tools near the entrance.

We got on to the road and formed fours, and at last began the longed-for
march which would restore our circulation and warm our frozen feet.

The snow was still falling heavily and the wind blew it into our faces.
We bowed our heads and pulled our caps down over our eyes. Our feet
began to glow but our ears became painfully cold instead. We held our
hands over them and as our ears grew warm our fingers became numb and
frozen, so that we put our hands back into our pockets (although it was
against regulations) and tried to think of something else.

Gradually, however, I became warm in every member and was filled with a
sense of physical comfort that released my thoughts from immediate,
material things. I thought of home and made plans for the future. I had
a long, stubbornly contested argument with an imaginary opponent about
the issues of the war. And then physical discomfort made itself felt
again, all my free and wandering thoughts were gathered in by a
wide-flung net and roughly thrown into a narrow dungeon.

I was growing unpleasantly hot and I longed to get rid of my heavy,
sodden great-coat. The strap of my haversack was making my shoulder
ache. I became peevish and fretful once more.

We swung along the road with rapid strides. Some of the feebler marchers
showed signs of weariness and began to grumble at our speed. There was