CHAPTER XIV
THE APPALLING MINES
WE walked on, discussing this and forgetting the most Gargantuan and terrible practice of all. A serious-faced subaltern, standing with his elbow braced against the corner of a traverse reminded us. At a distance he had an unusual appearance.
As we came up we saw it was because of the degraded state of his uniform—worse than any private's we had seen. Yet it wasn't the familiar yellow mud that stained the brown cloth, that had dried on his checks and hands. This man was nearly blue from head to foot.
“Where is there blue mud around here?" we asked. Something of the subaltern's haggard expression was reflected in Williams' eyes.
"Blue mud?" he repeated. “There!"
We could see now, behind the stained man, a heap of bluish, shiny soil from which water still oozed, running blue and shallow across the floor of the trench. Blue mud! Blue water!
Williams introduced the subaltern to us. He
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