The sergeant in charge of the clothing store was curt. He couldnt help it: he had run short of tunics, also of pants"-except three pairs which wouldnt fit me, wouldnt fit anybody, unless we enlisted three very fat dwarfs: he had kept on asking for tunics and pants, and theyd sent him nothing but great-coats and water-bottles: I could take his word for it, he wished he was at the Front, he did, instead of in this blessed hole filling in blessed forms for blessed clothes which never came. Impossible, anyhow, to rig me out. I was going on duty, was I? Then I must go on duty in my "civvies. "