here, what? Well, we don’t stand that sort of thing. Thank God, we have discipline here!”
“Twenty paces backwards, double march!” he commands.
I am mad with rage. But I cannot say anything to him; he could put me under arrest if he liked. So I double back, and then march up to him. Six paces from him I spring to a stiff salute and maintain it until I am six paces beyond him.
He calls me back again and affably gives me to understand that for once he is pleased to put mercy before justice. I pretend to be duly grateful. “Now, dismiss!” he says. I turn about smartly and march off.
That ruins the evening for me. I go back home and throw my uniform into a corner; I ought to have done that before. Then I take out my civilian clothes from the wardrobe and put them on.
I feel awkward. The suit is rather tight and short, I have grown in the army. Collar and tie give me some trouble. In the end my sister ties the bow for me. But how light the suit is, it feels as though I had nothing on but a shirt and underpants.
I look at myself in the glass. It is a strange sight. A sunburnt, overgrown candidate for confirmation gazes at me in astonishment.
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