not right to ask the
youngest his age. Parenthetically, let it be said that he is trying to
start a moustache. They had come fresh from Sandhurst to swift
tuition in gruelling, incessant warfare.

"Has anyone asked him it yet?" one inquired, referring to some
question to the guest.

"Not yet? Then all together: When do you think that the war will be
over?"

It was the eternal question of the trenches, the army, and the world.
We had it over with before the soldier-cook brought on the roast
chicken, which was received with a befitting chorus of approbation.

Who would carve? Who knew how to carve? Modesty passed the
honour to her neighbour, till a brave man said:

"I will! I will strafe the chicken!" 'Gott strafe England!' Strafe has
become a noun, a verb, an adjective, a cussword, and a term of
greeting. Soldier asks soldier how he is strafing to-day. When the
Germans are not called Boches they are called Strafers. "Won't you
strafe a little for us?" Tommy sings out to the German trenches when
they are close. What hopes? That gallant youngster of the K.O.P.F. in
the midst of bantering advice succeeded in separating the meat from
the bones without landing a leg in anybody's lap or a wing in
anybody's eye. Timid spectators who had hung back where he had
dared might criticize his form, but they could not deny the efficiency of
his execution. He was appointed permanent strafer of all the fowls
that came to table.

Everybody talked and joked about everything, from plays in London
to the Germans. There were arguments about favourite actors and
military methods. The sense of danger was as absent as if we had
been dining in a summer garden. It was the parents and relatives in
pleasant English homes in fear of a dread telegram who were
worrying, not the sons and brothers in danger. Isn't it better that way?
Would not the parents prefer it that way? Wasn't it the way of the
ancestors in the scarlet coats and the Merrie England of their day?
With the elasticity of youth my hosts adapted themselves to
circumstances. In their lightheartedness they made war seem a keen
sport. They lived war for all it was worth. If it gets on their nerves
their efficiency is spoiled. There is no room for a jumpy, excitable
man in the trenches. Youth's resources defy monotony and death
at the same time.

An expedition had been planned for that night. A patrol the previous
night had brought in word that the Germans had been sneaking up
and p