“I don’t. I believe we are in the right, or I should never have joined up.” When really moved, there came into Dormer’s grey inexpressive face a queer light, that might have made the Germans pause, had they seen it. He was a man of few theories, but he was literally ready to die for those few, when they were attacked. He went on shyly: “But I don’t believe in war as a permanent means of settling ‘disputes.’” “Bravo!” cried Kavanagh. “I like you when you speak out. I only wish you did more of it. You’re quite right, but what you don’t see is that modern society is so rotten that it can only be kept alive by violent purges, credit cycles, strikes, and wars. If it were not for such drastic remedies people of the twentieth century would perish of ease and comfort.” “Come, ease and comfort never killed anyone.” “Spiritually!” “Oh, I don’t go in for spiritualism!” Dormer was saying, when his servant brought him his tea. There was bread, that had rolled on the floor of a lorry until it tasted of dust, oil, blood, and coal. There was butter. There was marmalade. There was some cake they had sent him from home. Leaning his elbows on the board on which they wrote, he held his enamel mug in both hands and swilled his chlorinated-water, condensed-milk tasting tea. For the first time, as he clasped the mug and filled his gullet he was warm, hands, mouth, neck, stomach, gradually all his being. He put the mug down nearly empty and shoved the cake over to Kavanagh. “Have some?” he mumbled. * * * * * They found themselves in a village of the Somme country, hardly recognizable for the division that had come there for the offensive, five months before. Just infantry, with the necessary services, without artillery, or cavalry, they were billeted in barns and cottages up and down a narrow valley, with cliff-like downs rising each side and a shallow, rapid stream flowing between poplars and osier beds at the bottom. Dormer was entrusted with the critical military operation of organizing Football, Boxing and entertainment, and spent his time to his great satisfaction, up and down the three miles of road that ran through the Divisional Area, notebook in hand, listing the battalions or companies as entering for one or another of these sports. He liked it and it suited him.