When he goes over the top and works away in front of the parapet with
the moon shining full and the machine guns busy all along; when he
gets back to billets, and throws off his cares and bathes and plays
games like any irresponsible schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and
is found by the M.P. skylarking in ----, you can't help loving him.
Most of all, when he lies still and white with a red stream trickling
from where the sniper's bullet has made a hole through his head, there
comes a lump in your throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away
so that you shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes.
Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because they hate
war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a "Minnie" falls into
the trench near them, and then they smile to hide their weakness. They
hate going over the parapet when the machine guns are playing; so
they don't hesitate, but plunge over with a smile to hide their fears.
Their cure for every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every
prompting of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism
to help them--only the sporting instinct which is in every healthy
British boy.
Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring to the
imagination, less sensitive, but who grow upon you more and more as
you get to know them. Any one over twenty-three or so is an "old
man." They have lost the grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility
of youth. Their eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more
deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose for a
patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart are what is
wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They are less responsive to
your advances. But when you have tested them and they have tested you,
you know that you have that which is stronger than any terror of night
or day, a loyalty which nothing can shake.
And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love and
loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that can find no
expression either in word or deed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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