We marched eight kilos and then halted in front of a French estaminet.
The Captain gave the order to turn out on each side of the road and
wait his return. Pretty soon he came back and told B Company to occupy
billets 117, 118, and 1l9. Billet 117 was an old stable which had
previously been occupied by cows. About four feet in front of the
entrance was a huge manure pile, and the odor from it was anything but
pleasant. Using my flashlight I stumbled through the door. Just before
entering I observed a white sign reading: "Sitting 50, lying 20," but,
at the time, its significance did not strike me. Next morning I asked
the Sergeant-Major what it meant. He nonchalantly answered:

"That's some of the work of the R. A. M. C. (Royal Army Medical
Corps). It simply means that in case of an attack, this billet will
accommodate fifty wounded who are able to sit up and take notice, or
twenty stretcher cases."

It was not long after this that I was one of the "20 lying."

I soon hit the hay and was fast asleep, even my friends the "cooties"
failed to disturb me.

The next morning at about six o'clock I was awakened by the
Lance-Corporal of our section, informing me that I had been detailed
as mess orderly, and to report to the cook to give him a hand. I
helped him make the fire, carry water from an old well, and fry the
bacon. Lids of dixies are used to cook the bacon in. After breakfast
was cooked, I carried a dixie of hot tea and the lid full of bacon to
our section, and told the Corporal that breakfast was ready. He looked
at me in contempt, and then shouted, "Breakfast up, come and get it!"
I immediately got wise to the trench parlance, and never again