After a little conversation between the brass hat and their Commanding Officer, the latter gave the command and off they set in the darkness for their first route march on English soil.
Through muddy roads and lanes, over fields, slushy and sodden, up hill and down dale, they plodded steadily along.

At the rear of the column marched Barry with the M.O.
Long before they reached their destination, their conversation had given out, the M.O.sucking sullenly at his pipe, the bowl upside down.

The rear end of the column was very frayed and straggling.

Why it is that a perfectly fit company will invariably fray out if placed at the rear of a marching column, no military expert has quite succeeded in satisfactorily explaining.
As he tramped along in the dark by the side of the road, the M.O.
stumbled over a soldier sitting upon the soggy bank.
"Who are you ?" he inquired shortly.
"Corporal Thom, sir." "What's the matter with you ?" "I'm all in, sir.

I've been sick all day, sir." "Why didn't you report sick, then?
Can't you get on ?" "I don't think so, sir.