"
"Don't look so serious about it," he laughed, as we shook hands. "Some
of us will get killed, but what of that? I wanted this war. I prayed
for it. I should have been sad enough if I had died before it came. I
have left a wife and children whom I adore, but I am ready to lay down
my life cheerfully for the victory of which I am so sure. Cheer up. I
think my hour has not yet come. I had three horses killed under me in
Belgium. At Charleroi a bomb exploded in a staircase as I was coming
down. I jumped--not a scratch to show. Things like that make a man feel
immune--but Who knows?"
I did my best to smile, as I said, "I don't wish you courage--you have
that, but--good luck."
"Thank you," he replied, "you've had that"; and away he marched, and
that was the last I saw of him.
I had a strange sensation about these men who had in so few days passed
so rapidly in and out of my life, and in a moment seemed like old
friends.
There was a bustle of preparation all about us. Such a harnessing of
horses, such a rolling-up of half-dried shirts, but it was all orderly
and systematic. Over it all hung a smell of soup-kettles--the
preparations for the midday meal, and a buzz of many voices as the men
sat about eating out of their tin dishes.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178