--who were swopping
battle yarns among themselves, and who were all agreed with respect
to one thing--the extraordinary exhilaration which came of being under
fire. Now I have been under fire for weeks together in my time, and I am
free to confess that I never liked it. I am going to be quite honest; I
never showed the white feather, but I know quite well that many a
time in the course of that campaign, if I could have bolted without
disgracing myself in my own eyes, I should have done it. I stuck to my
place because it _was_ my place, but not in the least degree because
I liked to be there, and all this talk about the exhilaration of being
shot at, and the maddening pleasure inspired by it, hit me very hard
indeed, and set me probing my own mind to ask if I were not, as a
matter of fact, a coward who had just managed to disguise the truth from
himself and others. I went out of the club that night in a melancholy
mood, and as I was wandering purposelessly along the Strand, I felt a
hand upon my shoulder and, turning round, saw Archibald.

Forbes beside me. "You look hit, young 'un," said he, "come and have
a drink." He drew me into the Gaiety bar, and there, over a whisky
and cigar, I unfolded my trouble. "My boy," said Forbes, "I have been
through seventeen campaigns, big and little, and I have had a bit of
experience. You can make your mind quite easy, and the first thing
you can do is to go back to your club and give those fellows my
compliments--Archibald Forbes's compliments--and tell them that they are
liars to a man!" I did not take that message, which was delivered in a
form more emphatic than I have given to it, but I went away a good deal
comforted. I have compared notes since then with many an old campaigner,
and I have never talked seriously with one who has not been in the end
willing to confess to a very serious knowledge of his position at such a
time. In the course of a siege men get inured to it, but even then there
is no particular fun about it, and merely to sit still and endure is
anything but a cheerful experience; to be on the move towards the enemy
is altogether another matter.

I remember, for instance, an incident which occurred at Guemlik, when a
rifle bullet passed so close by my left ear, that for a minute or two I
was deafened on that side, and the ear itself was hot with the passing
of the bullet. I remember that I yelled out to the little party which
accompanied me, "We're under fire!" an