“No marching?”
“None.”
Sounds easy, I thought. “What do you do?”
“I draw rations.”
“So I see,” I observed.
Conversation flagged. Dmitri helped himself to more tea and Stepanovna questioned me further as to how Ivan Sergeievitch was doing.
“What were you in the old army?” I continued at the first opportunity to Dmitri.
“An orderly.”
“What are you now?”
“A driver.”