ironical cheers:

"What yer bin doin' all day? Swingin' the lead?"

A squeaky voice retorted: "I've bin up since four in the mornin' workin'
a bloody sight 'arder 'n what you 'ave. Yer never satisfied, yer
bleed'n' lot o'...." The rest was drowned in a storm of derisive shouts.

Then the men in the queue took up the argument again.

"Yer too slow--yer could'n catch the measles!"

"You come an' do my job an' see 'ow yer like it!"

"Do _your_ job! No bloody fear, why, 'tain't a man's job at all, it's
only old women what goes inter the cook-'ouse."

"Go on, get a move on--don't stand there talkin'!"

Another cook appeared. He dipped his ladle into a receptacle behind the
till and emptied into the first man's plate. The next man held out his
plate, and then the next. The cumbrous serpent moved forward inch by
inch while a counter movement began of men straggling back through the
slush, holding up tins or plates of steaming stew.

Two candles were burning inside my tent. The men were sitting on their
kits. The noisy manner in which they ate was irritating beyond measure.

After the meal I went over to the tent of a friend. He was sitting by a
flickering candle in moody silence. I asked him to come with me to the