Monday, 16th November.
Reymond's birthday; he is thirty years of age. To celebrate the occasion, we organize a special lunch.
In the afternoon the lieutenant reviews each man's supplies of food: his haversack, spread open at his feet, must exhibit to the officer's vigilant eye two tins of corned beef, a dozen biscuits, two little bags containing sugar, coffee, and two tablets of condensed soup.
One of our men has neither biscuits nor corned beef. Questioning glance of the lieutenant. Evasive gesture of the man, who immediately stands at attention.
"Have you eaten your two tins of corned beef?"
A sign of assent.
"Your biscuits too, naturally?"
Another sign of assent.
"Ah! And why did you eat your tins of corned beef?"