eleven
o'clock
They recognised his flawless boots before they realised his nationality . And , following his , the worst boots in the world -- worn by a couple of sauntering Italian officers , gay in olive and silver uniform . German men in black slouch hats hurried along the streets . It had been arranged that they should eat their meals in a room overlooking the canal , at the foot of the Cathedral -- and there at eleven o'clock they went , to be a little dashed in spirit by the reappearance of the Bar-le-Duc crockery . The same yellow dish carried what seemed the same rationed jam ; the square blocks of meat might have been cooked in the Bar cook-hut , and brought with them over the desert ; two heavy loaves stood as usual on the wooden table . The French Army ration was the same in every town . `` Mesdames , '' said the orderly assigned to them , `` there are two sous-officers without who wish to speak with you . ''