nurses entered the compartment. A sub officer,
fresh-faced, slender, typical, had come to see them
off. They smiled back at him with an attempt at
brightness. He didn't quite hide a slight nervous.
ness, an expression in his eyes sadly prophetic.
One of the girls spoke impulsively.
"I am sorry you are going up to the front."
He glanced away, tapping at his shoe with his walking stick.
Stupid, isn't it? And just when I'm beginning to know and like the people here."
Certainly he meant that. It wasn't the familiar English emotional screen, for he followed it at once with:
"I wonder what will get me up there?”
It was symptomatic of a vital evolution in the Englishman who has experienced this war. I have seen many examples since. Such a shift of psychology seemed more important to the Allied cause than the rehearsal of a bayonet charge I had recently witnessed.
Nor was there any attempt on the part of the young nurses to shirk the hard facts.
"At any rate you can choose your own hospital," one of them suggested.
The officer's petulant striking at his boot continued.
“Wish I was sure of that," he said, “but I
