“Daily shaving,” he told us when we got outside, “ought to be compulsory in our army as it is in the British. When a man hasn’t shaved he isn’t at his best, physically, morally, or mentally. When he has he’s got more confidence in himself; his morale is better. Shaving has a psychological effect, and I try to impress my men with the importance of it. They say it’s a difficult operation here, but I guess if the Tommies can do it in the trenches, we can in these billets.”

We remarked on the increasing popularity of mustaches among the men.

“I don’t object to them,” said the major. “Neither do I see any sense to them. To my mind they’re in a class with monocles or an appendix. But so long as the men keep their cheeks and chins smooth, they’re at liberty to wear as much of a misplaced eyebrow as they can coax out.”

The major showed us his hospital and his dentist shop and marched us up a steep hill, where, in the rain, we saw a great many interesting things and promised not to write about them.