The remaining tables were empty and no more wounded were brought in for a while.  The bearers were obeying the surgeon’s order and were taking a rest.  The officers and sisters in the theatre were in high spirits.  They were trying to speak French and ridiculing each other’s efforts.  Captain Wycherley began to hum a tune and wave his amputation knife like the conductor of an orchestra, whereupon the others locked arms and danced up and down the theatre, talking and joking.  Then Captain Calthrop broke away and danced by himself, kicking his legs up in the air.  The Sisters watched him and laughed loudly.  One of them could hardly control herself, and shrieking with laughter, cried: 

“Oh, Captain Calthrop, you really are too funny!”

Captain Dowden had not joined in the merrymaking.  He was standing by the table on which the corpse was lying.  He smiled uneasily and said to an orderly:  “Tie up his jaw and his feet and hands and take him away.  And tell the bearers to get a move on.  Let’s get finished as quickly as possible.”

The orderly pushed the dead man’s lower jaw sharply against the upper, so that the teeth clicked, and kept it in position by tying a bandage right round the head.  Then he crossed the dead hands and feet and tied them together also.

He went to the door and shouted, “Bearers!”

But only one bearer appeared with a stretcher over his shoulder.  I helped him to lift the corpse on to it and carry it away.  It was an intensely black night.  All was silent except for an occasional muffled boom in the distance and the sound of someone whimpering in one of the wards.  Our load was very heavy and we had to feel our way slowly along the duckboards.  When they came to an end we walked through the grass.  I was in front and all at once I tripped over some obstacle.  With a strenuous effort I retained my balance but nearly tipped the dead man off the stretcher.  We walked on, but did not reach the mortuary, although we should have done so long ago.  We put the stretcher down and looked around.  The darkness enveloped us like a mantle.  We could see nothing except a few shafts of light that shone through chinks in the walls of the distant operating theatre.  Roughly guessing our direction we continued our journey.  I felt a tent rope brushing against my leg.  I stepped over it and encountered another, while the orderly knocked his foot against a peg.  We put the stretcher down a second time.  It rested partly on the ground and partly on the ropes, and we held the corpse for fear it should roll off.  We shouted for a light.  Someone answered near by and struck a match.  The momentary glimmer was sufficient to show that we were standing amongst the ropes of the mortuary marquee.  The man struck another match to show us the way in.  We entered and added our burden to a double row of other dead, who lay there in the flickering match-light staring at the roof with sightless eyes and rigid, expressionless faces.