Being in a war zone there's not a lot of things to occupy your time. So I took up a little painting. I can't say I produced any masterpieces, but it did pass the time.
This is a little water-colour of Strong Point "B"
Actually time on your hands can be a problem and lead you into all sorts of difficulties.
In our huts the lockers were arranged to break the hut up into individual cubicles. That way you got a bit of privacy in the otherwise communal world of the army, and being the Corp of Signals rather than Grunt Central the CO was fairly flexible about how we actually arranged the lockers.
Now the guy opposite, I can't remember who, had set up some lockers with their backs to the central aisle. So there I was with two great 6 foot high blank sheets of tin just aching for pictures.
I couldn't resist.
On one I wrote

in foot high letters."If God had wanted me to be in the army he would have given me Baggy Green Skin". This was a joke that was going around at the time which I eventually shamelessly pinched as the title for my play (when I got around to writing it).
The the back of the second locker was a bit more adventurous.
I painted the Corp of Signals insignia, the winged Mercury, and on his upraised digit I sat a curvaceous creature smiling wickedly over her shoulder.

Eventually, of course, there was an inspection. We didn't have many, but we had some. And inevitably there was one after I finished my master works.
The CO prowled through the lines as he was supposed to. Eventually he came to my great works of art.
He paused.
He considered. Should he order the artist be hauled over the coals for desecrating the Corp insignia?
Should he order the offending images expunged?
after a full second he moved on. Without a smile. Without acknowledgement.
I started breathing again.