THE MEN WITH THE SPADES

The graves at Frere were dug by our own men, or rather by a small

fatigue party from a regiment near by. Nearly every morning they came,

the men with the spades. There were six of them, with a corporal, and

they came up jauntily, with their spades on their shoulders and with

pipes in their mouths. They were in their shirt-sleeves, and there was

much display of belt and of unbuttoned neck. Their helmets were apt to

be stuck on their heads in informal attitudes. They were inexpressibly

untidy, and they made in their march a loose, shambling suggestion of a

procession.

They came past my tent about breakfast time, and every morning I

wondered whether the men with the spades would come, since, when they

came, I knew that a death had taken place in the night, and wondered who

it was.

As in some way symbols of death, as elements in the last services to be

rendered to the dead, the men with the spades filled me with great

curiosity. They came up cheerily, and when they reached the outskirts of

the hospital the corporal would call out to any orderly he saw: "Well,

nipper, how many have we got to dig to-day?"

When they had finished they went by my tent on their way back to camp:

still the same untidy, shambling lot; still, as a rule, smoking, and

still with the appearance of being infectiously cheerful.

I know well enough, however, that there was little cheeriness among

these men with the spades. They were dull enough in their inmost

hearts. The soldier is much impressed by a burying and by the

formalities which surround the dead. And as he knows he must not "give

way" he is prone to cover his easily stirred feelings by an attempt at a

"devil-may-care" attitude, and by an assumption of rollicking

indifference. It is, however, a poorly executed pretence, and it needed

no exceptional acumen to see that in reality no small shadow of

unhappiness followed the little shuffling procession, in spite of their

pipes and their jauntily posed helmets and their laboured jokes.

If a soldier's grave is to be dug by sympathising hands, let it be dug

by the hands of these very men with the spades.

The Tale of a Field Hospital · 第 29 / 61 题