For two whole days the rain came down on us in bucketfuls. It was like
having the sea bottom turned upwards and the contents poured over us.
At one point tents were floating around like yachts on the lake at the
Welsh Harp. Those who had been foolish enough to get on the wrong side
of their clothes the night before had the devil’s own job to find them
in the morning. Swimming after your things when you wake up isn’t an
aid to quick dressing: _A Private of the Grenadiers_.