Barry's face fell. “To-morrow?” he said blankly, with a quick look at Phyllis. “And you are all going?”
“Not I,” said Mrs. Vincent, “but why should you not join the party? You need just such a change. It would do you good.”
“Sure thing he will,” cried Captain Neil.
During the supper they had firmly resolved to taboo the war. They talked on all manner of subjects, chiefly of the proposed motor trip, but in spite of the ban their talk would hark back to the trenches. For Captain Neil must know how his comrades were faring, and how his company was carrying on, and Barry must tell him of their losses, and all of the great achievements wrought by the men of their battalion. And Barry because his own heart was full of all their splendid deeds let himself go. He told how Sally and Booth had met their last call, of the M. O. and his splendid work in rescuing the wounded.
“No word in all of this of the Pilot, I observe,” interjected Captain Neil.
“Oh, he just carried on!”
Then he told how at last the M. O. went out, and how on his face there was only peace. He had to tell of Corporal Thom, and how he gave himself for his comrades and how Cameron kept the faith, a long list of heroes he had to enumerate, of whom the world was not worthy, whose deeds are unknown to fame, but whose names are recorded in the books of God. And then reverently he told of McCuaig.
As Barry talked, his heart was far away from London. He was seeing again that line of mud bespattered men, patiently plodding up the communication trench. He was looking upon them sleeping with worn and weary faces, in rain and mudsoaked boots and puttees, down in their flimsy, dark dugouts. He was hearing again the heavy “crash” of the trench mortar, the earth shaking “crumph” of the high explosive, the swift rush of the whizbang. Before his eyes he saw a steady line of bayonets behind a crumbling wall, then a quick rush to meet the attack, bomb and rifle in hand. He saw the illumined face of his dying friend.
As he told his tale, his face was glowing, his eyes gleaming as with an inner fire.
“Oh, God's Mercy!” he cried, “they are men! They are men! Only God could make such men.”