The Sergeant did not know. "What did they make us bring our shovels for?" A voice, mocking such a naive questioner, answered: "Don't yer know the army be now?" We broke down a section of the fence. Two men were assigned to each stack. They loaded each sleeper on to the shoulders of a couple of men who carried it across the railway lines into the field, where it would be received and stacked by other men. Hour by hour we trudged to and fro in pairs, bearing our wet and heavy loads. We lost consciousness of everything except driving snow, squelching mud, aching backs and sore shoulders. When one shoulder became so sore that mere contact with our load was intensely painful, we changed over to the other, until that too became bruised, and then we would change back again. And so on, hour by hour. Our legs seemed as heavy as lead and yet they seemed to move of their own accord without any effort of the will. Our minds became blurred and numb--a numbness that was broken from time to time by a sharp stab of pain whenever a sleeper was placed across our shoulders. "For Christ's sake, let's 'ave a blow," said my partner suddenly. I looked at my watch. It was a quarter-past ten--nearly two hours more till lunch! We observed that only a small number of men were working, and my partner blurted out: "I ain't goin' ter do more'n me share. There's a lot o' fellers swingin' the lead be'ind them stacks. I'm goin' ter 'ave a bit of a rest, I'm bloody well done up." We both went behind a stack and found that a crowd of men had gone there before us. One of them shouted cheerfully: "Here come two more leadswingers!" [idlers] We leaned against the wood and rested, but a few minutes had hardly passed when a Corporal appeared and shouted peremptorily: "Come on out o' that--get on wi' yer job an' put a jerk in it." We struggled reluctantly back to our work. The wearisome, monotonous trudge began again. As the first stacks disappeared the journey became longer and longer. I again looked at my watch--it was twenty to eleven. The quarter-past ten seemed several hours ago! The way the time dragged drove us to despair. But there was no escape--we had to live through every minute of this dismal day. My partner and I worked on in silence. Gradually the men slackened their pace and tried to miss their turn. We did the same. Others, who were behind us, followed suit, refusing to do more than their share. Our progress became slower and slower until at length it stopped altogether. There was a long straggling queue in front of the half-demolished stack. The first pair of men refused to take the sleeper held in readiness for them, protesting that there were others who ought to have gone before, and the others refused to work until the first two had taken their turn. A deadlock ensued and then a Sergeant came up with "What's the matter now? This ain't a bleed'n' picnic! Don't yer know there's a war on? Yer like a lot o' school kids. Go an' get a bloody move on!"