THE TRENCH TOUCH.
Warrior in bunker (to caddie, who is seeing if the course is clear). "Keep down, you fool!"
Had there been a scene, he could, he says, have endured the worst bravely, standing to attention and taking it as it came. Not so, however; his was the wrong sort of General for the purpose. As does the partner at the dance, over whose priceless gown you have upset the indelible ice, he said it didn't matter. He said he'd give the division a miss, and return whence they had come. This they began to do, when they had got the car out of the ploughed field, and this they went on doing until the sixth thing happened, which was a burst tyre.
Again, had there been a scene, my man could have explained that this wasn't his fault; but no one said it was his fault. Equally it was never openly alleged that he was to blame for the driver's not being prepared with a spare wheel ready for use. But his embarrassment was such that my man was grateful to heaven for reminding him at this juncture of the existence of R.F.C. Head-quarters, about a kilometre away. He said he'd run and borrow a wheel off them, and before the General could say him nay he'd started.... He ran all the way, and burst, panting, into the officers' mess, where he had the misfortune to strike another itinerant General.
It never rains but it pours, and the area seemed to be infested with Generals of quite the wrong sort. He couldn't have hit upon a more kind and genial and inappropriate one than this. No, he wouldn't allow a word of apology or explanation from this exhausted lieutenant until the latter had rested and refreshed himself with a cup of tea. No, not out of that pot; it had been standing too long. Tea which had stood should not be drunk, for reasons detailed at length. No doubt the Colonel, whose guest he was, would order some more to be made. It would take two minutes—it did take twenty. No, no; there was nothing to say and nothing need be said. It was this General's particular wish that he should be at peace and make himself at home. Let him make his explanations and apologies later.
Whatever you would have done, my overwhelmed friend temporized. He was just edging the conversation round to the other General, waiting alone in the dark wet road, when the General in the nice warm room rose to go, commanding my friend not to disturb himself on that account. Being a man of some years he was a slow goer; being a General, he was not to be interrupted in his going....
I don't know exactly how it all ended, nor, you may not be surprised to learn, does my friend, though he is always expecting to hear.
There was also on our boat a subaltern, coming to France for the first time. He wanted me to tell him all about it. How well I know these subalterns who want to know all about it. I was one myself once. Does he ask you what it's like in the mud? Does he listen if you give him details of bloodshed? Does he inquire about the food, the washing facilities, parapet or parados; what a time-fuse does when its time has expired, or even as to the use and abuse of the entrenching tool? No, he's for war only, and there's only one question in war: Do you or do you not need a Sam Browne belt in the trenches?
It is an old question; there is no solution. I told him that some say one thing and some say another, and, as both are authorities with whom you are not in a position to argue, the only way to get out of the difficulty is to keep out of the trenches.
Yours ever, Henry.