speak of death almost
lightly. "If I am potted," they say, "I am, and that's all about it."
But that's not all they feel, as I have reason to know. They love
their lives just as much as we do, and they long to go back and spend
their days amongst their loved ones. It is only rare that cowardice is
seen, and it is rarer still for them to make any boast; the average
Englishman is not given to boasting; he has his duty to do, and he just
does it, saying very little about it.

On the night before they were to embark for France, farewell meetings
were held at the Y.M.C.A. huts, and Tom noticed that Alec McPhail found
his way to the hut where he went. Perhaps eight hundred or a thousand
men had gathered, and although high spirits prevailed, each man felt
that he was breathing an atmosphere which was not usual. There was a
look not common in the eyes of the lads; a set, stern expression on
their faces. Afterwards when they had been to the Front and returned,
they would go out again without such feeling as now possessed them.
But these lads had never been to the war before; they were entering
upon an unknown; they knew that in all probability a large number of
them would never come back to England again. Each had a hope that he
might escape, although the chances were against him.

Still they cheered at the old recitations, listened to the old songs,
and joined in the choruses which they liked just as they had been doing
for months; they were not going to show the white feather.

A special speaker had come to the hut that night. He had been working
among the soldiers in the Y.M.C.A. tents on the Continent, and had come
home for a short holiday; now he had come to this camp in order to
speak to the men before their departure. It is said that months before
he had been fond of telling humorous stories, and had delighted in
making the soldiers laugh. He certainly had a sense of humour, and now
and then could not refrain from some witticism which set the highly
strung lads in roars of laughter. But the close of his address did not
inspire mirth.

"My lads," he said, "you have done a brave thing; I don't say that you
deserve much praise for it, because at a time like this if an
able-bodied youth does not join the Army he fails in his duty; and you
are only doing your duty. If you had not done what you have done, I
should be ashamed of you. All the same you are brave lads. You have
offered your all, your very lives, a