"In La Granja every room that was not in use had been turned into
a latrine — a frightful shambles of smashed furniture and excrement. The
little church that adjoined it, its walls perforated by shell-holes, had
its floor inches deep in dung. In the great courtyard where the cooks ladled
out the rations the litter of rusty tins, mud, mule dung, and decaying
food was
revolting. It gave point to the old army song:
There are rats, rats,
Rats as big as cats,
In the quartermaster’s store!
The ones at La Granja itself really were as big as cats, or
nearly; great bloated brutes that waddled over the beds of muck, too
impudent even to run away unless you shot at them."
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