cumstances this proximity of men and women
should have stimulated a laughing volubility,
but the stillness down here was violated only by
the swishing of cloth against boards and a perpetual drip of water like the ticking of innumerable
clocks. In a corner sat a circle of women who
inspected and repaired the clothing passed to them
from the steam drying room. They were like a
group of religeuses to whom the chatter of the
world is a thing forgotten.
Upstairs the men splashed in tubs which they filled according to their fancy from alternate vats of hot and cold water. About this cleansing of bare flesh within sound of the cannon there was something providently funereal. It was as if each silent man understood that his self-preparation might be for a shroud.
From a recreation hut near by burst forth the measures of a lively phonograph record, but no feet twitched in rhythm, no voices caught up the words. As we walked on, the lilting phrases made a brave fight against the pervading solemnity until they were smothered beneath the explosions from beyond the village.
A staff officer joined us—a fellow who ought to have been rowing or playing cricket at Oxford. He had the enthusiasm of extreme youth for a scheme he had carried out to entertain the soldiers.
