Winborough had its Cadet Corps, which was a slight compensation for the utter meaningless absurdity of Latin and Greek—dead studies in a time of live history. At least, one was preparing for a later share in the conflict. The ethics of war and peace did not bother him. War suited him, as a definite opportunity for concerted action; whereas peace appeared a condition infinitely more difficult, more scattered and involved and hesitant. Richard approved of the indubitable simplicity of a nation at war: every mind thinking alike; every effort directed towards the same end; loyalty accepted as a predominant emotion, without need to fuss over lesser problems of one’s personal age. He was animated as yet by no special rancour towards the Germans.... Poor old Grandfather was a German; rotten for him, these days! Pater was naturalized, so he was all right (the yellow press was not circulated at Winborough).... The natural conditions of war demanded an enemy, and the Germans would do as well as anyone else; better, in fact; for they were powerful and well-prepared, so that there was an excellent chance that hostilities would last till Richard was eighteen——
He always came back to that.
The Dunnes were both in the navy; Greville, just about to join the Grand Fleet on H.M.S. “Canada”; young Frank, still at Osborne. Richard spent this Christmas of Greville’s final leave at Mrs Dunne’s jolly, crowded cottage in Essex, on the outskirts of a little country town that was just about the same size as Dorzheim.... He amused the Dunnes exceedingly by his accounts of that place, and of his headlong scramble home with Deb. It was something of an exploit to have been caught in enemy territory on the eve of war: “If we had started for home two days later, we shouldn’t have started at all; they’d have kept us there for weeks, probably, and then goose-stepped us over the frontier under strict official supervision.”
“Deb, not you,” Greville corrected. “I knew a chap of our age who was at Dresden at the time, and they’ve interned him over there.”
“Lord, not really! That would have been a swizzle, missing all the fun, tucked away with a lot of rotten Germans——”
“They’d be English, you ass, in a German internment camp.”
“M’yes, so they would. Still, one would be horribly out of it all; not that Winborough’s much better”—reverting to the old grievance—“I wish I’d plumped for the navy when you did.”
Mrs Dunne smiled rather wistfully. “I wonder if your father shares that wish of yours, Richard.”
“Dunno. Shan’t see him till Easter, I expect. I was glad to be away these hols. out of all the fuss of moving. We’ve let our house, you know.”
“You must have cheered when you got your hoof in England again,” Greville remarked, reverting to the journey from Dorzheim.