to descend upon him with such power that he lay back and closed his
eyes, a prey to violent mental agitation. Then he uttered a foul oath,
blew out his candle, pulled the blanket over his head and tried to go to
sleep. I heard one of the other men laugh and say good-humouredly, "'E's
gettin' on--'e'll soon be swearin' wi' the best of us."

The man referred to was rather refined and had resisted the habit of
swearing far longer than any of us. I was amused, and my own equanimity,
which had been on the verge of collapse, was restored by this incident.

I was conscious of irresistible weariness and called out with a yawn:
"Good night all," and the answer came "Good-night!" Then I heard someone
singing ironically: "When you come to the end of a perfect day." I began
to feel warm and was filled with a sense of intense comfort. I could
hear the water dripping on to my coat, but I had become indifferent to
it. My limbs were so tired that to rest them was an exquisite luxury.
And then sleep came with a sudden, overwhelming rush.

We felt refreshed and yet indolent when we heard the steps of the Police
Corporal splashing through the mud at half-past five the next morning.
He banged the tent and shouted: "Reveillé--breakfast at six, parade at
six-thirty." We enjoyed a few minutes in bed. I ran my fingers through
my hair and found that it was soaked. My pillow--a shirt stuffed with
spare clothing--was wet also, but the rain was no longer beating down on
the canvas. The air inside the tent was pervaded by a foul, acrid
stench. I threw the flap aside and looked out. The vast expanse of
steely blue was dotted with glittering stars and on the eastern horizon
it merged into a faint pallor. The air was deliciously fresh. We got up
one by one, yawning, groaning and grumbling, and dressed and went out to
wash.