III
After three months I had some leave and visited Mrs. Harry. I had to. But I shall not distress you with an account of that interview. I will not even pretend that she was 'brave.' How could she be? Only, when I had explained things to her, as Harry had asked, she said: 'Somehow, that does make it easier for me—and I only wish—I wish you could tell everybody—what you have told me.'
And again I say, that is all I have tried to do. This book is not an attack on any person, on the death penalty, or on anything else, though if it makes people think about these things, so much the better. I think I believe in the death penalty—I don't know. But I did not believe in Harry being shot.
That is the gist of it; that my friend Harry was shot for cowardice—and he was one of the bravest men I ever knew.
[1] It is only fair to say that, long after the supposed date of this conversation, a system of sending 'war-weary' soldiers home for six months at a time was instituted, though I doubt if Foster would have been satisfied with that.