I get up at eight o'clock and dress in
silence. If my batman speaks to me I cut myself, throw the razor at
him, and completely break down. In short, as I say, I am the normal
man.
With David it is otherwise. David is a big strong man. He blew into my
dug-out late one night and occupied the other bed--an affair of rude
beams and hard wire-netting. He spread himself there in sleep, and
silence fell. At dawn next morning an awful sound hurled me out of
dreams towards my revolver. I clutched it in sweating terror, and
stared round the dug-out with my heart going like a machine-gun. It
was not, however, a Hun counter-attack. It was David calling for his
servant. As the first ray of the sun lights the Eastern sky David
calls for his servant. His servant is a North-countryman. Sleeping far
off in some noxious haunt, he hears David's voice and instantly begins
to speak. His voice comes swelling towards us, talking of boots and
tunics. As he reaches the dug-out door he becomes deafening.
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