‘Yes,’ grunted Duncan, ‘sad slump from our anticipations. There was some fun in that picture style of doing the job—some sort of dash and honour and glory. No honour and glory about “Bring up the guns” these days. Na poo to-night anyway.’
The Sergeant-Major, sleepily sucking his damp cigarette, wrapped in his sopping British Warm, curling up in a corner on the wet cold earth, utterly spent with the night’s work, cordially agreed.
Perhaps, and anyhow one hopes, some people will think they were wrong.
FRANCE AND BRITAIN: THEIR COMMON MEMORIES.
‘France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other’s happiness.’
Shakespeare, Henry V., Act v. sc. ii.
‘Each the other’s mystery, terror, need and love.’
Rudyard Kipling.