On Wednesday morning I spoke to a corporal of my
company.
"If you want leave, see the platoon sergeant," he told me. The platoon
sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke harshly when I approached
him. "No business of mine!" he said; "the company clerk will look into
the matter."
But I had no success with the company clerk; the leave which I desired
was a special one, and that did not come under his jurisdiction. "The
orderly sergeant knows more about this business than I do. Go to him
about it," he said.
By Wednesday evening I spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked
puzzled for a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said.
"He'll know more about this matter than I do, and he'll see into it.
But it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't
like to give it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? You're paid
here to do what you're told, not to ask questions."
The lieutenant was courteous and civil. "I can't do anything in the
matter," he said. "The orderly sergeant will take you to the company
officer, Captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you."
"If you're lucky," said the sergeant in a low whisper. About eight
o'clock in the evening I paraded in the long, dimly-lighted passage
that leads to our company orderly-room, and there I had to wait two
hours while the captain was conducting affairs of some kind or another
inside. When the door was opened I was ordered inside.
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