Great Britain -- History -- George V, 1910-1936 -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
"Bugler, call two sanitary lance-corporals and four men. Two sanitary
corporals and four men." A prolonged wailing with interruptions
transfused the night, mournful, resigned, and prolonged.
Tietjens thought that, thank God, someone would come and relieve him of
that job. It was a breathless affair holding up the corpse with the fire
burning his face. He said to the other runner:
"Get out from under him, damn you! Are you hurt?" Mackenzie could not
get at the body from the other side because of the brazier. The runner
from under the corpse moved with short sitting shuffles as if he were
getting his legs out from under a sofa. He was saying:
"Poor ---- O Nine Morgan! Surely to goodness I did not recognice the
pore ---- . . . Surely to goodness I did not recognice the pore ----"
Tietjens let the trunk of the body sink slowly to the floor. He was more
gentle than if the man had been alive. All hell in the way of noise
burst about the world. Tietjen's thoughts seemed to have to shout to him
between earthquake shocks. He was thinking it was absurd of that fellow
Mackenzie to imagine that he could know any uncle of his. He saw very
vividly also the face of his girl who was a pacifist. It worried him not
to know what expression her face would have if she heard of his
occupation, now. Disgust? . . . He was standing with his greasy, sticky
hands held out from the flaps of his tunic. . . . Perhaps disgust! . . .
It was impossible to think in this row. . . . His very thick soles moved
gluily and came up after suction. . . . He remembered he had not sent a
runner along to I.B.D. Orderly Room to see how many of his crowd would
be wanted for garrison fatigue next day, and this annoyed him acutely.
He would have no end of a job warning the officers he detailed. They
would all be in brothels down in the town by now. . . . He could not
work out what the girl's expression would be. He was never to see her
again, so what the hell did it matter? . . . Disgust, probably! . . . He
remembered that he had not looked to see how Mackenzie was getting on in
the noise. He did not want to see Mackenzie. He was a bore. . . . How
would her face express disgust? He had never seen her express disgust.
She had a perfectly undistinguished face. Fair . . . O God, how suddenly
his bowels turned over! . . . Thinking of the girl . . . The face below
him grinned at the roof--the half face! The nose was there, half the
mouth with the teeth showing in the firelight. . . . It was
extraordinary how defined the peaked nose and the serrated teeth were in
that mess . . . The eye looked jauntily at the peak of the canvas
hut-roof. . . . Gone with a grin. Singular the fellow should have
spoken! After he was dead. He must have been dead when he spoke. It had
been done with the last air automatically going out of the lungs. A
reflex action, probably, in the dead. . . . If he, Tietjens, had given
the fellow the leave he wanted he would be alive now! . . . Well, he was
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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