Called for service

– Young men marched about the village yesterday to the accompaniment of one grotesquely sounding brass instrument – difficult to imagine anything uglier or less dignified than this music, to which even dignified, portly, grave firemen in uniform will consent to parade themselves. I asked the barber what the noise was about and he explained that it was the young conscripts who had the previous day received their marching orders (feuilles de route) and were being merry (no doubt factitiously) previous to their departure a fortnight hence. Immediately afterwards entered another customer, a middle-aged man who put the same question as I had put. ‘C’est qu’il sont reçu leurs feuilles,’ replied the barber; these were his exact words, I think. The enquirer’s eyes questioned for a second or two, and then he understood. Several middle-aged men began talking about the shortness of service nowadays. They were all agreed; ‘Deux ans – c’est rien.'
                                                                                Arnold Bennett;s Journals, September 23rd 1907