"Those generals and staff fellows," he said, "must have a lot of brains after all." And we have come to the conclusion that we will not criticise them any more, for they must know as well as we do, if not still better, how to win the war. VIII THE "KNUT" We were sitting round the fire in the club, discussing that individual colloquially known as the "knut." "The 'knut,'" said Green, "is now virtually extinct, he is killed by war. As soon as he gets anywhere near a trench, he drops his cloak of affectation, and becomes a reasonable human being--always excepting, of course, certain young subalterns on the staff." Rawlinson leant forward in his chair. "I'm not sure," he said, "that I agree with you. It all depends upon how you define a 'knut.'" "A 'knut' is a fellow with a drawl and an eyeglass," said someone. "That just fits my man. I know of an exception to your rule. I know of a 'knut' who did not disappear at the front." "Tell us about him," suggested Jepson. Rawlinson hesitated, and glanced round at each of us in turn. "It's not much of a story," he said at length, "but it stirred me up a bit at the time--I don't mind telling it you if you think it sufficiently interesting." We filled up our glasses, and lay back in our chairs to listen to the following tale: * * * * * "When I was at Trinity I kept rooms just above a fellow called Jimmy Wynter. He wasn't a pal of mine at all, as he had far too much money to chuck about--one of these rich young wastrels, he was. He could drop more than my annual allowance on one horse, and not seem to notice it at all. In the end he got sent down for some rotten affair, and I was rather glad to see the last of him, as the row from his rooms was appalling. He always had an eyeglass and wonderfully cut clothes, and his hair was brushed back till it was as shiny as a billiard ball. I put him down, as did everyone else, as an out-and-out rotter, and held him up as an example of our decadent aristocracy. "When I went out to the front, our Regular battalion was full up, and I was sent to a Welsh regiment instead. The first man I met there was none other than this fellow Wynter, still with his eyeglass and his drawl. In time, one got quite accustomed to him, and he was always fairly amusing--which, of course, is a great thing out there--so that in the end I began to like him in a sort of way. "All this seems rot, but it helps to give you an idea of my man, and it all leads up to my story, such as it is. "We came in for that Loos show last year. After months and months of stagnation in the trenches, we were suddenly called to Headquarters and told that we were to make an attack in about two hours' time.