They lay down on the grassy bank that sloped from the road to the pond. The road was hidden from them by the tall reeds through which the wind lisped softly. Overhead huge white cumulus clouds, piled tier on tier like fantastic galleons in full sail, floated, changing slowly in a greenish sky. The reflection of clouds in the silvery glisten of the pond's surface was broken by clumps of grasses and bits of floating weeds. They lay on their backs for some time before they started taking their clothes off, looking up at the sky, that seemed vast and free, like the ocean, vaster and freer than the ocean. “Sarge says a delousin' machine's comin' through this way soon.” “We need it, Chris.” Andrews pulled his clothes off slowly. “It's great to feel the sun and the wind on your body, isn't it, Chris?” Andrews walked towards the pond and lay flat on his belly on the fine soft grass near the edge. “It's great to have your body there, isn't it?” he said in a dreamy voice. “Your skin's so soft and supple, and nothing in the world has the feel a muscle has.... Gee, I don't know what I'd do without my body.” Chrisfield laughed. “Look how ma ole ankle's raised.... Found any cooties yet?” he said. “I'll try and drown 'em,” said Andrews. “Chris, come away from those stinking uniforms and you'll feel like a human being with the sun on your flesh instead of like a lousy soldier.” “Hello, boys,” came a high-pitched voice unexpectedly. A “Y” man with sharp nose and chin had come up behind them. “Hello,” said Chrisfield sullenly, limping towards the water. “Want the soap?” said Andrews. “Going to take a swim, boys?” asked the “Y” man. Then he added in a tone of conviction, “That's great.” “Better come in, too,” said Andrews. “Thanks, thanks.... Say, if you don't mind my suggestion, why don't you fellers get under the water.... You see there's two French girls looking at you from the road.” The “Y” man giggled faintly. “They don't mind,” said Andrews soaping, himself vigorously. “Ah reckon they lahk it,” said Chrisfield. “I know they haven't any morals.... But still.” “And why should they not look at us? Maybe there won't be many people who get a chance.” “What do you mean?” “Have you ever seen what a little splinter of a shell does to a feller's body?” asked Andrews savagely. He splashed into the shallow water and swam towards the middle of the pond. “Ye might ask 'em to come down and help us pick the cooties off,” said Chrisfield and followed in Andrews's wake. In the middle he lay on a sand bank in the warm shallow water and looked back at the “Y” man, who still stood on the bank. Behind him were other men undressing, and soon the grassy slope was filled with naked men and yellowish grey underclothes, and many dark heads and gleaming backs were bobbing up and down in the water. When he came out, he found Andrews sitting cross-legged near his clothes. He reached for his shirt and drew it on him.