INCIDENT. REST CAMP

I shall never forget the day I made my first inspection of billets.

While walking through the village street I noticed a structure which
appeared to be inviting some stray breath of wind to cause it to
surrender its last resistance by collapsing into a heap of rubbish.

Many years ago, in days of prosperity, it had served the purpose of a
covering for cattle, for I believe cattle are not very particular in
northern France.

It is quite within reason to suppose that, with a view of misleading
his cattle into a false sense of security, the farmer may have called
it a barn. It had never been an expensive structure, nor did it give
any evidence of having ever laid claim to architectural beauty.

But its simplicity of construction was a marvel of ingenuity. Yes, it
was a barn, but who but a genius of modern arts would have thought it
possible to build even a barn by the simple but equally economical
method of erecting a number of props and simply sticking mud between?

But the stability of the barn was, as might reasonably be supposed,
subject to "wind and weather permitting," and was now sorrowfully
deploring its advancing years, and anxiously waiting an early
opportunity to rest its weary limbs in a well-earned rest in a
shapeless heap on the ground that gave it birth.

How very strange! Out of the numerous holes in the wall I saw familiar
faces, while inside a score of men were laughing and joking, playing
cards or lounging about in loose attire, as though they were enjoying
the freedom and comfort of a West End club.

"But what are you men doing here?" I asked.

"This is our billet, sir," answered a lance corporal.

"Your billet? Do you mean you sleep here?"

"Yes, sir, this was allotted to half my platoon."

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, sir. Quite a treat after the trenches."

"A bit draughty, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir; but, like everything else, we have to get used to it."

"But can't you find a better place than this, and with more room? You
seem to be almost on top of each other."

"There is no other place available. The men are quite satisfied, sir."

I turned away thoughtfully. What magnificent chaps! And yet, when they
were in comfortable billets at Haywards Heath, or in well-built huts
at Fovant, they were far more particular; when they were recruits and
spent their first night in the army, they looked with dismay at the
prospect of sleeping on a clean straw mattress in a well-b