squeak-squawked

Updated: May 5, 2025

We had lost our individuality, and it was to be months before we regained it in a new aspect, a collective individuality of which we became increasingly proud. We squeak-squawked across the barrack square in boots which felt large enough for an entire family of feet. Our khaki service dress uniforms were strange and uncomfortable. Our hands hung limply along the seams of our pocketless trousers.

James Norman Hall - Kitchener's Mob: Adventures of an American in the British Army