He spoke a strange sentence in English as he glanced over to me.
“I am beginning to think we are all slaves of a system. None of us can break the chains.”
It was after that day that Brand took a fancy to me, for some reason, inviting me to his mess, where I met Charles Fortune and others, and it was there that I heard amazing discussions about the philosophy of war, German psychology, the object of life, the relation of Christianity to war, and the decadence of Europe. Brand himself sometimes led these discussions, with a savage humour which delighted Charles Fortune, who egged him on. He was always pessimistic, sceptical, challenging, bitter, and now and then so violent in his criticisms of England, the Government, the Army Council, the Staff, and above all of the Press, that most of his fellow-officers—apart from Fortune—thought he went “a bit too far.”
Dear old Harding, who was Tory to the backbone, with a deep respect for all in authority, accused him of being a “damned revolutionary” and for a moment it looked as though there would be hot words, until Brand laughed in a good-natured way and said, “My dear fellow, I’m only talking academic rot. I haven’t a conviction. Ever since the war began I have been trying to make head or tail of things in a sea-fog of doubt. All I know is that I want the bloody orgy to end; somehow and anyhow.”
“With victory,” said Harding solemnly.
“With the destruction of Prussian philosophy everywhere,” said Brand.
They agreed on that, but I could see that Brand was on shifting ground and I knew, as our friendship deepened, that he was getting beyond a religion of mere hate, and was looking for some other kind of faith. Occasionally he harked back, as on the day in Lille when I walked by his side.