He flushed, but his eyes mocked his confusion. "It was devilishly lonely in London", he said slowly; "there were too many girls." And then, with an embarrassed smile, "I wanted to go straight because of her."
So because he wanted to go straight for her, he's out in No Man's Land tonight, re-testing his worth and taking his life in his hands. There's a woman at the back of each one of us who inspires most of our daring. With some of us she's the woman whom we hope to meet, with others the woman whom we've met. Whether she lives in the future or the present, we carry on in an effort to be worthy of her. And when it's ended, will she be worthy? Will she guess that we did it all for her? We shall never tell her; if she loves us, she will guess.
A sunken road, rotten with rain and mud, runs twenty yards to my left. I shall know when the raiders return, for I shall hear the weary tread of the wounded and the prisoners as they pass this point. A little higher up the road I can already hear the muffled panting of an ambulance, waiting to carry back the dead. Should I miss them, the quickened beat of the engine will warn me. The enemy knows that this is the route by which they must return; he's lobbing over gas-shells and searching with whizz-bangs. A messy way of spending life Did God know that it was for this that He was creating us when He launched us on our adventure through the world?
IT'S morning. We're always safe when the light has come. The most dangerous hour in the twenty-four is the one when day is dawning Throughout that hour the infantry always "stand to" with rifles, bombs and Lewis guns, on the alert for an attack. S. O. S. rockets are kept handy, so that help can be summoned. At every observation-post an especially keen look-out is kept; at the batteries the sentries stand with eyes fixed on the eastern horizon to catch the first signal of distress.
The anxious hour is over and morning has come. For another day men breathe more freely; till night returns, death has been averted. The narrow slit, just above the level of the ground, through which I spy on the enemy, reveals a green and dewy country. The little flowers of the field are still asleep, their faces covered by their tiny petal-hands. I want to shout to them to wake up and be companionable. After watching many dawns I have discovered that poppies are the early risers among the flowers and that dandelions are the sleepy heads.