“I can’t do anything for them,” whispered Peter. “When did they eat last?”
“Yesterday evening. We were hustled out of Béthune just as they were starting breakfast. . . . Where are we going? . . . God knows, I don’t. The maps haven’t been served out. You’d better get out of this, P.J. It’s only giving the boys false hopes.”
Peter stepped back; and the company plodded by. As they passed him, sweating heads turned, dusty lips murmured. “Can’t you do nuffink for us, sir? Just a bite, sir. Anyfink’ll do, sir.” They looked like faithful dogs whose masters had betrayed them.
“Cheer up, lads,” said Peter, “cheer up!”
“We’ll do our best, sir. Bit ’ard though, our first time in action, ain’t it, sir? . . .”
The files trudged past him in the dust. Behind them, came other files, thousands of them. All dust-stained. All sleepless. All hungry. “Food!” they cried as they marched. “Food!”
But not a man of them fell out!
| [11] | Observation Post. |