suddenly he spotted a man who was not holding his shovel perfectly
horizontally and thundered:

"Hold your shovel properly, that man there!"

The man was disconcerted for a moment but soon re-adjusted his shovel to
the satisfaction of his superior. The ground was so muddy and uneven
that it was sometimes impossible to keep the exact military formation.
Without having noticed it, I was a little more than the regulation
distance 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.