There was a sameness about the expressions on the men’s faces. As yet it was barely perceptible. The mouths had set in certain rigid lines. The lids of the eyes were narrowed, and beneath them the pupils reflected only a dull apathy. Of each man the shoulders sagged as if bowed down with a dreadful weight.
Hicks lay against the sloping wall of the ravine, his head peeping over, watching an airplane circle lazily above. The drone of its engine was like some enormous bluebottle fly. It was soothing. A slight breeze rippled the wheat. “Ah,” he breathed. But on the breeze was carried a stomach-turning stench. It was sweet and putrid and seemed to take substance around the nostrils. As the heat of the day grew more, the odor strengthened until Hicks felt as if he were submerged in it up to his eyes.
As the sun glided out of sight the odor became less evident, until at last, as the shadows were thrown full length, it ceased entirely to be.
Lieutenant Bedford made his way along the ravine. “Where’s Sergeant Harriman?”
Harriman poked his pallid face out of his burrow.
“Yes, sir?”
“Oh, there you are, Harriman. Pick out four men to go after rations. Right after dark.”
“Shall I go along in charge?”