The Sergeant-Major shouted "Come here!" in peremptory tones, but the man pretended he had not heard and remained in the ranks.
"Come here, damn you!"
This second order frightened him, he slunk out of the line, crossed over to the Sergeant-Major and stood to attention before him.
"What's the matter with you, are you deaf? Why aren't you on parade in time? D'you want to sleep all day?"
"I thought—er—parade was at—was at half-past—and—and—I couldn't find my puttees...."
"Who the hell d'you think yer talkin' to—Sir to me, d'you hear!"
"Yes, sir ... I couldn't help it, sir ... I couldn't find...."
"Take this man's name and number, Corporal. We'll have him up for Orderly Room to-night.... Fall in and look sharp, damn you, keeping us all waiting like this."
It was still snowing hard. Our caps and shoulders were covered with a white layer. The parade ground was a big stretch of well-trodden mud and slush. We sank into it up to our ankles. Our feet were torturing us, but only a few men in the rear ranks ventured to stamp the ground a little. The wet had penetrated our boots several weeks before and they had never been dry since.
The Sergeant-Major blew his whistle and shouted: "Listen to the Orders." He held a bundle of papers in his hand and read with the help of a torch: