‘Yes, sir.’ Higgs sipped his tea noisily and stared down into the mug, avoiding the colonel’s look. ‘I waited. That’s why I took so long with the tea. There was nothing for you. Or for you, sir,’ he added, turning to Norman.

‘Thank you, Higgs,’ said the colonel dully. ‘Don’t wait. You’d better get some sleep in case we have to move off again.’

‘I’ll leave the bucket, sir,’ said Higgs, ‘in case you want some more tea. It’ll stay warm for a bit.’ There was a clatter as he put the bucket on the table.

‘It wasn’t much of a mail, sir,’ he said. ‘Only a few letters and newspapers. There’s sure to be another one up in a day or two.’

Higgs went. They sat in silence, listening again to the busy rats.

‘Get your head down for a couple of hours,’ said Norman. ‘I’ll wake you at two o’clock and you can relieve me.’

‘You sleep,’ answered the colonel.

‘No. That’s all right.’

‘God Almighty!’ exploded the colonel. ‘Do as I tell you. It’s bad enough to have my batman feeling sorry for me without you behaving like a wet nurse.’

‘All right.’ Norman rose, and draped his greatcoat over his shoulders.

‘You know where to find me.’

The colonel smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Noel,’ he said. ‘Good night.’

It was pleasant to lie among the trees, in the cool of the night, not heeding the flicker and rumble of battle in the distance, feeling the blood throb again in aching legs; talking quietly or sinking into the dizziness of a half-sleep.

Charlie Venable eased his boots on over a fresh pair of socks and sighed luxuriously.

‘You should ’a seen my feet,’ he said. ‘I got blisters so big I could walk across the Channel on ’em.’

‘Why don’t you?’ asked Baldy, lying flat on his back.

‘What,’ said Charlie, ‘after we’ve come this bloody far? Be quicker to push old Jerry right back and get a train home from bloody Berlin in comfort.’

‘Roll on, the peace.’ Baldy muttered the soldier’s incantation piously.

‘It’s quiet,’ said one of the men, ‘isn’t it? Reckon we’re out for good?’

‘Oh, sure,’ mocked Charlie, ‘sure. We’re all getting our tickets. Special order from Montgomery.’

‘For a rest, I mean.’

‘We’re on a half-hour,’ interjected Lance-Corporal Feather. ‘You know what that means.’ Whenever the battalion was resting the men were given a period of notice – twelve hours, or three hours, or an hour perhaps; each period indicated a certain state of readiness which had to be maintained. A half-hour’s notice meant that the men had to keep together in platoons, forbidden to wander away, with their weapons and equipment at their sides ready to be donned immediately. It was the most advanced state of readiness.