saw was good.

With wounds dressed and bandaged, the men went out again. They were
led across the camp to the quartermaster's stores and given clean
underclothes in place of shirts and drawers sweat soaked, muddy,
caked hard with blood. With these in their arms they went to the
bath-house, to hot water, soap, and physical cleanness. Then they
were fed, and for the moment all we could do for them was done.

These were all lightly wounded men, but, even remembering that, their
power of recuperation seemed astonishing. Some went after dinner to
their tents, lay down on their beds and slept. Even of them few
stayed asleep for very long. They got up, talked to each other,
joined groups which formed outside the tents, wandered through the
camp, eagerly curious about their new surroundings. They found their
way into the recreation huts and canteens. They shouted and cheered
the performers at concerts or grouped themselves round the piano and
sang their own songs. Those who had money bought food at the counter.

But many had no money and no prospect of getting any. They might have
gone, not hungry, but what is almost worse, yearning for dainties and
tobacco, if it were not for the generosity of their comrades. I have
seen men with twopence and no more, men who were longing for a dozen
things themselves, share what the twopence bought with comrades who
had not even a penny. I passed two young soldiers near the door of a
canteen. One of them stopped me and very shyly asked me if I would
give him a penny for an English stamp. He fished it out from the
pocket of his pay-book. It was dirty, crumpled, most of the gum gone,
but unused and not defaced. I gave him the penny. "Come on, Sam," he
said, "we'll get a packet of fags."

They say a lawyer sees the worst side of human nature. A parson
probably sees the best of it; but though I have been a parson for
many years and seen many good men and fine deeds, I have seen nothing
more splendid, I cannot imagine anything more splendid, than the
comradeship, the brotherly love of our soldiers.

The very first day of the rush of the lightly wounded into our camp
brought us men of the Ulster Division. I heard from the mouths of the
boys I talked to the Ulster speech, dear to me from all the
associations and memories of my childhood. I do not suppose that
those men fought better than any other men, or bore pain more
patiently, but there was in them a kind of fierce resentment. They
had no