Judsi made a movement expressive of ignorance. "Someone probably nabbed it, sir! Seein' as I don't wear one." The captain turned to me. "So, you don't see to all this?" I protested that I had told him.... "Told him! Told him!... You see the result! When you have ten or fifteen men down with dysentery...!" He went on to the next. It was done on purpose. Here, a shoulder strap had come unsewn, there one or two buttons missing, this képi had no chin-strap, that bayonet was rusty, a certain rifle was not properly cleaned. Where was the lantern belonging to No. 11 half-section? And the camp gear! It was quite clear that it had been badly distributed. The captain dropped straight on to the weak spot and emphasised it coldly. When the non-commissioned officers were collected afterwards, he gave vent to his feelings. "It's lucky we're not going off this evening! That would be a nice state of affairs! No. 3 platoon is a positive disgrace! I am speaking of section No. 2! Sergeant Dreher, at one o'clock I shall inspect your half-sections and I can assure you that if anything goes wrong this time!" He twirled his long moustache. I was frightfully annoyed. What irritated me above everything was the ironical satisfaction shown by several of my fellow N.C.O.'s; I tried to excuse myself. "It was my day on duty, sir!" But Ravelli interrupted: "Oh, it was you, was it? I wondered who it could be.... You never turned up." * * * * * I was filled with a wild desire to fall upon my corporals, but Bouguet was waiting for me, bristling with rage. Ready to bite his head off I turned upon Donnadieu, who put on a vexed, sheepish expression. I swore at the men roundly, in the approved N.C.O. style. Did they think they could snap their fingers at me? Getting me cursed like that! So they weren't even capable of appearing in service marching order? So jolly difficult, wasn't it? "Such humbug from a blooming plug!" Judsi muttered. I told them about the supplementary inspection, and moderated my tone in view of their obvious bad temper. "Come along, let's look alive. Everyone must do his bit!" Cook-house door had gone. Lamalou exclaimed: "Arf a mo'. Carn't work on an empty belly." A long hour elapsed before any one deigned to start work again and even then they did not put their backs into it. I was horrified at the number of dirty mess-tins and water-bottles, of uncleaned boots, and above all, of the fittings missing; sets of "pull throughs" had to be complete in groups of four! Stores orders must be got and signed by the company sergeant-major, and the things drawn ... and the time was being frittered away in dawdling and gossiping. I think the knaves did it on purpose. My remarks all fell on deaf ears, whatever tone I adopted--I tried them all! I felt a sort of jeering hostility rising against me which infuriated me, though I did not let them see it.