"'Close the door, Nick Nock,' someone would say. 'It's too blurry cold. Close the door, will yer?"
"'I'll not close the door,' the old man would answer. 'I'll get every man of you out o' bed 'fore I leave 'ere. They're up in all the huts bar this'n.'
"'Oh! Close the door,' one would say, rising up in bed and lighting a cigarette.
"'I'll not close the door,' the sergeant would answer. 'Wot I want to know is this: where's Flanagan?'
"'Dead,' one would say. 'Gassed in the knees.'
"''E's 'angin' on the wires,' from another.
"''Is bed wasn't slept on last night,' from Nick Nock. 'When I see 'im, 'e'll be for it. And you'll all be for it if ye're not out o' kip when I come back 'ere in ten minutes from now. Mind that.'
"'Close the door, Nick Nock,' the hut would shout, as the sergeant turned to go out.
"'I'll not shut the door.'
"'Leavin' it like that and it so cold,' all would expostulate. 'Please shut the door.'