An unteroffizier ordered us to march by, one by one, to give the Herr Offizier "Augen Links" in the German fashion, and to the post, which represented another officer, an "Augen Rechts" when we should come to it.
"I'll see him in hell first," I muttered to the man next me. I was in the lead of the party. I shook with excitement and fear of I knew not what.
As the command rang out I stepped out with a swing, and with the action, decision came to me. As I approached the officer he drew up slightly and looked at me expectantly.
I gave him a stony stare, and passed on.
A few more steps and I reached the post. I pulled back my shoulders with a smart jerk, got my arms to swinging freely, snapped my head round so that my eyes caught the post squarely and swung my left hand up in a clean-cut parabola to "Eyes right," in good old regimental order.
A half dozen shocked sentries came up on the double. It was they who were excited now. I was master of myself and the situation. The unteroffizier ordered me to repeat and salute. I did so—literally. The officer was, to all outward appearances, the only other person there who remained unmoved. My ardour had cooled by this time, and his very silence seemed worse than the threats of the guard. Nor was I exactly in love with my self-appointed task. Nevertheless, I saw my mates watching me and inwardly applauding. I was ashamed to quit. I did it again. That won me another five days' cells.