"Don't ask any questions, it's against orders. I don't know myself."
It was raining like the mischief.
We splashed along a muddy road for about fifteen minutes, finally stopping at the entrance of what must have been an old barn. In the darkness, I could hear pigs grunting, as if they had just been disturbed. In front of the door stood an officer in a mack (mackintosh). The R. S. M. went up to him, whispered something, and then left. This officer called to me, asked my name, number and regiment, at the same time, in the light of a lantern he was holding, making a notation in a little book.
When he had finished writing, he whispered:
"Go into that billet and wait orders, and no talking. Understand?"
I stumbled into the barn and sat on the floor in the darkness. I could see no one but could hear men breathing and moving; they seemed nervous and restless. I know I was.
During my wait, three other men entered. Then the officer poked his head in the door and ordered:
"Fall in, outside the billet, in single rank."
We fell in, standing at ease. Then he commanded.
"Squad-'Shun! Number!"