leadswingers!" [idlers] We leaned against the wood and rested, but a few
minutes had hardly passed when a Corporal appeared and shouted
peremptorily: "Come on out o' that--get on wi' yer job an' put a jerk in
it." We struggled reluctantly back to our work.

The wearisome, monotonous trudge began again. As the first stacks
disappeared the journey became longer and longer. I again looked at my
watch--it was twenty to eleven. The quarter-past ten seemed several
hours ago! The way the time dragged drove us to despair. But there was
no escape--we had to live through every minute of this dismal day.

My partner and I worked on in silence. Gradually the men slackened their
pace and tried to miss their turn. We did the same. Others, who were
behind us, followed suit, refusing to do more than their share. Our
progress became slower and slower until at length it stopped altogether.
There was a long straggling queue in front of the half-demolished stack.
The first pair of men refused to take the sleeper held in readiness for
them, protesting that there were others who ought to have gone before,
and the others refused to work until the first two had taken their turn.
A deadlock ensued and then a Sergeant came up with "What's the matter
now? This ain't a bleed'n' picnic! Don't yer know there's a war on? Yer
like a lot o' school kids. Go an' get a bloody move on!"

A chorus of voices asserted that some people couldn't play the game and
were swinging the lead and dodging their turn. Thereupon the Sergeant
formed us up into two ranks and ordered us to proceed with the work.
This interruption made at least a portion of our time pass more quickly.
Then we continued our wearisome tramp. An age seemed to pass. I looked
at my watch, but it was only twenty-three minutes after eleven. To and
fro we went with bruised shoulders, aching backs and numbed