l as
sergeants and privates, had that strong optimism, not based on any kind
of reason; but gradually it died out, and in its place came the awful
conviction which settled upon the hearts of the fighting-men, that
this war would go on forever, that it was their doom always to live
in ditches and dugouts, and that their only way of escape was by a
"Blighty" wound or by death.

A chaplain I knew used to try to cheer up despondent boys by pretending
to have special knowledge of inside politics.

"I have it on good authority," he said, "that peace is near at hand.
There have been negotiations in Paris--"

Or:

"I don't mind telling you lads that if you get through the next scrap
you will have peace before you know where you are."

They were not believing, now. He had played that game too often.

"Old stuff, padre!" they said.

That particular crowd did not get through the next scrap. But the
padre's authority was good. They had peace long before the armistice.

It was worst of all for boys of sensitive minds who were lucky enough
to get a "cushie" wound, and so went on and on, or who were patched up
again quickly after one, two, or three wounds, and came back again.
It was a boy like that who revealed his bitterness to me one day as we
stood together in the salient.

"It's the length of the war," he said, "which does one down. At first it
seemed like a big adventure, and the excitement of it, horrible though
it was, kept one going. Even the first time I went over the top wasn't
so bad as I thought it would be. I was dazed and drunk with all sorts of
emotions, including fear, that were worse before going over. I had what
we call `the needle.' They all have it. Afterward one didn't know what
one was doing--even the killing part of the business--until one reached
the objective and lay down and had time to think and to count the dead
about... Now the excitement has gone out of it, and the war looks as
though it would go on forever. At first we all searched the papers for
some hope that the end was near. We don't do that now. We know that
whenever the war ends, this year or next, this little crowd will be
mostly wiped out. Bound to be. And why are we going to die? That's what
all of us want to know. What's it all about? Oh yes, I know the usual
answers: 'In defense of liberty,' 'To save the Empire.' But we've
all lost our liberty. We're slaves under shell-fire. And as for the
Empire--I don't give a curse for it. I'm t