"Will you run?" repeated the subaltern in a feverish tone.
I began to trot ponderously, steadying my water-bottle and my haversack. Two or three of the men did the same, but at the end of twenty yards we gave it up, out of breath....
I turned round and saw one of my chaps fall. I ran up.
"Well, Loriot, what's up now?"
"Oh, the blighters!" he groaned. "Oh, the bloody bastards!"
"What's the matter?"
His hands were glued to his front. He shrieked.
"Ow! my rupture!"
It was put on. I was not going to be caught!
"Get up!"