CHAPTER VIII[ToC]
EARLY IMPRESSIONS
BILLETS. A STARTLING INCIDENT. REST CAMP
I shall never forget the day I made my first inspection of billets.
While walking through the village street I noticed a structure which appeared to be inviting some stray breath of wind to cause it to surrender its last resistance by collapsing into a heap of rubbish.
Many years ago, in days of prosperity, it had served the purpose of a covering for cattle, for I believe cattle are not very particular in northern France.
It is quite within reason to suppose that, with a view of misleading his cattle into a false sense of security, the farmer may have called it a barn. It had never been an expensive structure, nor did it give any evidence of having ever laid claim to architectural beauty.
But its simplicity of construction was a marvel of ingenuity. Yes, it was a barn, but who but a genius of modern arts would have thought it possible to build even a barn by the simple but equally economical method of erecting a number of props and simply sticking mud between?
But the stability of the barn was, as might reasonably be supposed, subject to "wind and weather permitting," and was now sorrowfully deploring its advancing years, and anxiously waiting an early opportunity to rest its weary limbs in a well-earned rest in a shapeless heap on the ground that gave it birth.
How very strange! Out of the numerous holes in the wall I saw familiar faces, while inside a score of men were laughing and joking, playing cards or lounging about in loose attire, as though they were enjoying the freedom and comfort of a West End club.