The lieutenant looked at us. He knew what we were thinking. And he knew many other things too, because he came to the company as a noncom and was promoted from the ranks. He lifted the lid from the dixie again and sniffed. Then passing on he said: “Bring me a plate full. Serve out all the rations. We can do with them.”

Ginger looked sheepish as Tjaden danced round him.

“It doesn’t cost you anything! Anyone would think the quartermaster’s store belonged to him! And now get on with you, you old blubber-sticker, and don’t you miscount either.”

“You be hanged!” spat out Ginger. When things get beyond him he throws up the sponge altogether; he just goes to pieces. And as if to show that all things were equal to him, of his own free will he issued in addition half a pound of synthetic honey to each man.

Today is wonderfully good. The mail has come, and almost every man has a few letters and papers. We stroll over to the meadow behind the billets. Kropp has the round lid of a margarine tub under his arm.