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Eight
hundred
thousand
—
imagine
them
drawn
up
down
there
on
the
sea
—
eight
hundred
thousand
candles
all
blown
out
in
one
gigantic
breath
.
"
December
came
.
The
’
flappers
’
and
the
’
nuts
’
had
disappeared
.
My
father
told
me
one
evening
that
neither
he
nor
my
mother
would
think
the
worse
of
me
if
I
did
not
go
.
I
had
started
at
the
Royal
College
of
Music
,
and
the
atmosphere
there
was
at
first
hostile
to
volunteering
.
The
war
had
nothing
to
do
with
art
or
artists
.
I
remember
my
parents
and
Lily
’
s
discussing
the
war
.
They
agreed
it
was
inhuman
.
But
my
father
’
s
conversation
with
me
became
strained
.
He
became
a
special
constable
,
a
member
of
the
local
emergency
committee
.
Then
the
son
of
his
head
clerk
was
killed
in
action
.
He
told
us
that
one
silent
dinner
-
time
,
and
left
my
mother
and
me
alone
immediately
afterwards
.
Nothing
was
said
,
but
everything
was
plain
.
One
day
soon
afterwards
,
Lily
and
I
stood
and
watched
a
contingent
of
troops
marching
through
the
streets
on
their
way
to
Victoria
.
It
was
wet
after
rain
,
the
pavements
shining
.
They
were
going
to
France
,
and
someone
beside
us
said
they
were
volunteers
.
I
watched
their
singing
faces
in
the
yellow
of
the
gaslamps
.
The
cheering
people
around
us
.
The
smell
of
wet
serge
.
They
were
drunk
,
marchers
and
watchers
,
exalted
out
of
themselves
,
their
faces
set
in
the
rictus
of
certainty
.
Medieval
in
their
certainty
.
I
had
not
then
heard
the
famous
phrase
.
But
this
was
le
consentement
frémissant
a
la
guerre
.
"
They
are
mad
,
I
said
to
Lily
.
She
did
not
seem
to
hear
me
.
But
when
they
had
gone
she
turned
and
said
,
If
I
was
going
to
die
tomorrow
I
should
be
mad
.
It
stunned
me
.
We
went
home
in
silence
.
And
all
the
way
she
hummed
,
I
now
—
but
could
not
then
—
believe
without
malice
,
a
song
of
the
day
.
"
He
paused
,
then
half
sung
it
:
We
shall
miss
you
,
we
shall
kiss
you
,
But
we
think
you
ought
to
go
.
"
I
felt
like
a
small
boy
beside
her
.
Once
again
I
blamed
my
miserable
Greek
blood
.
It
had
made
me
a
coward
as
well
as
a
lecher
.
I
see
,
when
I
look
back
,
that
indeed
it
had
.
Because
I
was
less
a
true
coward
,
a
calculating
coward
,
than
someone
so
innocent
,
or
so
Greek
,
that
he
could
not
see
what
the
war
had
to
do
with
him
.
Social
responsibility
has
never
been
a
Greek
characteristic
.
"
When
we
reached
our
houses
,
Lily
kissed
my
cheek
and
ran
in
.
I
understood
.
She
could
not
apologize
,
but
she
could
still
pity
.
I
spent
a
night
and
a
day
and
a
second
night
in
agony
.
The
next
day
I
saw
Lily
and
told
her
I
was
going
to
volunteer
.
All
the
blood
left
her
cheeks
.
Then
she
burst
into
tears
and
threw
herself
into
my
arms
.
So
did
my
mother
when
I
told
her
.
But
hers
was
a
purer
grief
.
"
I
was
passed
fit
,
accepted
.
I
was
a
hero
.
Lily
’
s
father
presented
me
with
an
old
pistol
he
had
.
My
father
opened
champagne
.
And
then
when
I
got
to
my
room
,
and
sat
on
my
bed
with
the
pistol
in
my
hands
,
I
cried
.
Not
from
fear
—
for
the
sheer
nobility
of
what
I
was
doing
.
I
had
never
felt
public
-
spirited
before
.
And
I
also
thought
that
I
had
conquered
that
Greek
half
of
me
.
I
was
fully
English
at
last
.
"
I
was
pushed
into
the
13th
London
Rifles
—
Princess
Louise
’
s
Kensington
Regiment
.
There
I
became
two
people
—
one
who
watched
and
one
who
tried
to
forget
that
the
other
watched
.
We
were
trained
less
to
kill
than
to
be
killed
.
Taught
to
advance
at
two
-
pace
intervals
—
against
guns
that
fired
two
hundred
and
fifty
bullets
a
minute
.
The
Germans
and
the
French
did
the
same
.
No
doubt
we
should
have
objected
if
we
had
ever
seriously
thought
about
action
.
But
the
current
myth
at
that
time
maintained
that
the
volunteers
were
to
be
used
only
for
guard
and
communication
duties
.
The
regulars
and
reservists
were
the
fighting
troops
.
Besides
,
every
week
we
were
told
that
because
of
its
enormous
cost
the
war
could
not
last
another
month
.
"
I
heard
him
move
in
his
chair
.
In
the
silence
that
followed
I
waited
for
him
to
continue
.
But
he
said
nothing
.
The
stars
shimmered
in
their
dustless
glittering
clouds
;
the
terrace
was
like
a
stage
beneath
them
.
"
A
glass
of
brandy
?
"
"
I
hope
you
’
re
not
going
to
stop
.
"
"
Let
us
have
some
brandy
.
"
He
stood
up
and
lit
the
candle
.
Then
he
disappeared
.
I
lay
in
my
chair
and
stared
up
at
the
stars
.
1914
and
1953
were
eons
apart
;
1914
was
on
a
planet
circling
one
of
the
furthest
faintest
stars
.
The
vast
stretch
,
the
pace
of
time
.
Then
they
came
again
,
those
footsteps
.
This
time
,
they
approached
.
It
was
the
same
rapid
walk
.
But
it
was
much
too
warm
for
rapid
walking
.
Someone
wanted
to
reach
the
house
urgently
,
and
without
being
seen
.
I
got
quickly
to
the
parapet
.
I
was
just
in
time
to
glimpse
a
pale
shape
at
the
far
end
of
the
house
move
up
the
steps
and
under
the
colonnade
.
I
could
not
see
well
,
my
eyes
had
been
dazzled
,
after
the
darkness
,
by
the
candle
.
But
it
was
not
Maria
;
a
whiteness
,
a
flowing
whiteness
,
a
long
coat
or
a
dressing
gown
—
I
had
only
a
second
’
s
sight
,
but
I
knew
it
was
a
woman
and
I
knew
it
was
not
an
old
woman
.
I
suspected
,
too
,
that
I
had
been
meant
to
see
her
.
Because
if
one
wanted
to
get
into
the
house
unheard
,
one
wouldn
’
t
cross
the
gravel
,
but
approach
the
house
from
the
rear
,
or
the
far
side
.
There
was
a
sound
from
the
bedroom
and
Conchis
appeared
in
the
lamplit
doorway
,
carrying
a
tray
with
a
bottle
and
two
glasses
.
I
waited
till
he
had
set
it
by
the
candle
.
"
You
know
someone
has
just
come
in
downstairs
.
"
He
betrayed
not
the
least
surprise
.
He
uncorked
the
bottle
and
carefully
poured
the
brandy
.
"
A
man
or
a
woman
?
"
"
A
woman
.
"
"
Ah
.
"
He
handed
me
my
brandy
.
"
This
is
made
at
the
monastery
of
Arkadion
in
Crete
.
"
He
snuffed
the
candle
and
went
back
to
his
chair
.
I
remained
standing
.
"
You
did
say
you
lived
alone
.
"
"
I
said
that
I
liked
to
give
the
islanders
the
impression
that
I
lived
alone
.
"
The
dryness
in
his
voice
made
me
feel
that
I
was
being
very
naïve
.
The
woman
was
simply
his
mistress
,
whom
for
some
reason
he
did
not
want
me
to
meet
;
or
perhaps
who
did
not
want
to
meet
me
.
I
went
and
sat
down
on
the
lounging
chair
.
"
I
’
m
being
tactless
.
Forgive
me
.
"
"
Not
tactless
.
Perhaps
a
little
lacking
in
imagination
.
"
"
I
thought
perhaps
I
was
meant
to
notice
what
obviously
I
’
m
not
meant
to
notice
"
"
Noticing
is
not
a
matter
of
choice
,
Nicholas
.
But
explaining
is
.
"
"
Of
course
.
"
"
Patience
.
"
"
I
’
m
sorry
.
"
"
Do
you
like
the
brandy
?
"
"
Very
much
.
"
"
It
always
reminds
me
of
Armagnac
.
Now
.
Shall
I
continue
?
"
As
he
began
to
speak
again
I
smelt
the
night
air
,
I
felt
the
hard
concrete
under
my
feet
,
I
touched
a
piece
of
chalk
in
my
pocket
.
But
a
strong
feeling
persisted
,
when
I
swung
my
feet
off
the
ground
and
lay
back
,
that
something
was
trying
to
slip
between
me
and
reality
.
"
I
found
myself
in
France
a
little
more
than
six
weeks
after
I
enlisted
.
I
had
no
aptitude
with
the
rifle
.
I
could
not
even
bayonet
an
effigy
of
Kaiser
Bill
convincingly
.
But
I
was
considered
’
sharp
’
and
they
also
discovered
that
I
could
run
quite
fast
.
So
I
was
selected
as
company
runner
.
"
My
training
company
commander
was
a
Regular
Army
officer
of
thirty
or
so
.
His
name
was
Captain
Montague
.
He
had
broken
his
leg
sometime
before
and
so
had
been
unfit
for
active
service
till
then
.
A
kind
of
phosphorescent
pale
elegance
about
his
face
.
A
delicate
,
gallant
moustache
.
He
was
one
of
the
most
supremely
stupid
men
I
have
ever
met
.
He
taught
me
a
great
deal
.
"
Before
our
training
was
finished
,
he
received
an
urgent
posting
to
France
.
That
same
day
he
told
me
,
as
if
he
were
giving
me
a
magnificent
present
,
that
he
thought
he
could
pull
strings
and
have
me
posted
with
him
.
Only
a
man
as
blank
as
he
would
have
failed
to
see
the
hollowness
of
my
enthusiasm
.
But
unfortunately
he
had
grown
fond
of
me
.
"
He
had
a
brain
capable
of
only
one
idea
at
a
time
.
With
him
it
was
the
offensive
a
outrance
—
the
headlong
attack
.
Foch
’
s
great
contribution
to
the
human
race
.
’
The
force
of
the
shock
is
the
mass
,
’
he
used
to
say
—
’
the
force
of
the
mass
is
the
impulsion
and
the
force
of
the
impulsion
is
the
morale
.
High
morale
,
high
impulsion
,
high
shock
—
victory
!
’
Thump
on
the
table
—
’
Victory
!
’
He
made
us
all
learn
it
by
heart
.
At
bayonet
drill
.
Vic
-
tor
-
ree
!
Poor
fool
.
"
I
spent
a
last
two
days
with
my
parents
and
Lily
.
She
and
I
swore
undying
love
.
The
idea
of
heroic
sacrifice
had
contaminated
her
,
as
it
had
contaminated
my
father
.
My
mother
said
nothing
,
except
an
old
Greek
proverb
:
A
dead
man
cannot
be
brave
.
I
remembered
that
later
.
"
We
went
straight
to
the
front
.
One
of
the
company
commanders
had
died
of
pneumonia
,
and
it
was
his
place
Montague
had
to
take
.
This
was
early
in
1915
.
It
sleeted
and
rained
incessantly
.
We
spent
long
hours
in
stationary
trains
in
railway
sidings
,
in
gray
towns
under
grayer
skies
.
One
knew
the
troops
who
had
been
in
action
.
The
ones
who
sang
their
way
to
death
,
the
new
recruits
,
were
the
dupes
of
the
romance
of
war
.
But
the
others
were
dupes
of
the
reality
of
war
,
of
the
ultimate
Totentanz
.
Like
those
sad
old
men
and
women
who
haunt
every
casino
,
they
knew
the
wheel
must
always
win
in
the
end
.
But
they
could
not
force
themselves
to
leave
.
"
We
spent
a
few
days
on
maneuvers
.
And
then
one
day
Montague
addressed
the
company
.
We
were
going
into
battle
,
a
new
sort
of
battle
,
one
in
which
victory
was
certain
.
One
that
was
going
to
bring
us
to
Berlin
in
a
month
.
The
night
of
the
next
day
we
entrained
.
The
train
stopped
somewhere
in
the
middle
of
a
flat
plain
and
we
marched
eastwards
.
Dikes
and
willows
in
the
darkness
.
Endless
drizzle
.
It
crept
down
the
columns
that
the
place
we
were
to
attack
was
a
village
called
Neuve
Chapelle
.
And
that
the
Germans
were
to
receive
something
revolutionary
.
A
giant
gun
.
A
mass
attack
by
the
new
airplanes
.
"
After
a
while
we
turned
into
a
field
,
thick
with
mud
,
and
were
marched
up
to
some
farm
buildings
.
Two
hours
’
rest
before
taking
up
position
for
the
attack
.
No
one
can
have
slept
.
It
was
very
cold
,
and
fires
were
forbidden
.
My
real
self
began
to
appear
,
I
began
to
be
afraid
.
But
I
told
myself
that
if
I
was
ever
to
be
really
frightened
,
I
should
have
known
it
before
then
.
This
is
what
I
had
willed
to
execute
.
That
is
how
war
corrupts
us
.
It
plays
on
our
pride
in
our
own
free
will
.
"
Before
dawn
we
filed
forward
slowly
,
many
stops
,
to
the
assault
positions
.
I
overheard
Montague
talking
with
a
staff
officer
.
The
entire
First
Army
,
Haig
’
s
,
was
engaged
,
with
the
Second
in
support
.
And
there
seemed
to
me
a
safety
,
a
kind
of
warmth
in
such
numbers
.
But
then
we
entered
the
trenches
.
The
terrible
trenches
,
with
their
stench
of
the
urinal
.
And
then
the
first
shells
fell
near
us
.
I
was
so
innocent
that
in
spite
of
our
so
-
called
training
,
of
all
the
propaganda
,
I
had
never
really
been
able
to
believe
that
someone
might
want
to
kill
me
.
We
were
told
to
halt
and
stand
against
the
walls
.
The
shells
hissed
,
whined
,
crashed
.
Then
silence
.
Then
a
splatter
of
falling
clods
.
And
shivering
,
I
awoke
from
my
long
sleep
.
"
I
think
the
first
thing
I
saw
was
the
isolation
of
each
.
It
is
not
the
state
of
war
that
isolates
.
It
is
well
known
,
it
brings
people
together
.
But
the
battlefield
—
that
is
something
different
.
Because
that
is
when
the
real
enemy
,
death
,
appears
.
I
no
longer
saw
any
warmth
in
numbers
.
I
saw
only
Thanatos
in
them
,
my
death
.
And
just
as
much
in
my
own
comrades
,
in
Montague
,
as
in
the
invisible
Germans
.
"
The
madness
of
it
,
Nicholas
.
Standing
in
holes
in
the
ground
,
thousands
of
men
,
English
,
Scots
,
Indians
,
French
,
Germans
,
one
March
morning
—
and
what
for
?
If
there
is
a
hell
,
then
it
is
that
.
Not
flames
,
not
pitchforks
.
But
a
place
without
the
possibility
of
reason
,
like
Neuve
Chapelle
that
day
.
"
A
reluctant
light
began
to
spread
over
the
eastern
sky
.
The
drizzle
stopped
.
A
trill
of
song
from
somewhere
outside
the
trench
.
I
recognized
a
hedge
sparrow
,
the
last
voice
from
the
other
world
.
We
moved
forward
again
some
way
and
into
the
assault
trenches
—
the
Rifle
Brigade
was
to
form
the
second
wave
of
the
attack
.
The
German
trenches
were
less
than
two
hundred
yards
ahead
,
with
our
front
trench
only
a
hundred
yards
from
theirs
.
Montague
looked
at
his
watch
.
He
raised
his
hand
.
There
was
complete
silence
.
His
hand
fell
.
For
some
ten
seconds
nothing
happened
.
Then
,
from
far
behind
us
,
there
was
a
gigantic
drum
-
roll
,
a
thousand
tympani
.
A
pause
.
And
then
the
whole
world
ahead
exploded
.
Everyone
ducked
.
A
shaking
of
earth
,
sky
,
mind
,
all
.
You
cannot
imagine
what
the
first
few
minutes
of
that
bombardment
were
like
.
It
was
the
first
massive
artillery
barrage
of
the
war
,
the
heaviest
ever
delivered
.
"
A
runner
came
from
the
front
trenches
,
down
the
communicating
trench
.
His
face
and
uniform
were
streaked
with
red
.
Montague
asked
if
he
was
hit
.
He
said
everyone
in
the
front
trenches
was
splashed
with
blood
from
the
German
trenches
.
They
were
so
close
.
If
only
they
could
have
stopped
to
think
how
close
.
"
After
half
an
hour
the
barrage
was
moving
over
the
village
.
Montague
,
at
the
periscope
,
cried
,
’
They
’
re
up
!
’
And
then
—
’
The
Boches
are
done
for
!
’
He
leapt
onto
the
parapet
and
waved
to
all
of
us
around
him
to
look
over
the
edge
of
the
trench
.
A
hundred
yards
ahead
a
long
line
of
men
trotted
slowly
across
the
scarred
earth
towards
some
shattered
trees
and
broken
walls
.
A
few
isolated
shots
.
A
man
fell
.
Then
stood
up
and
ran
on
.
He
had
simply
tripped
.
The
men
about
me
began
to
shout
as
the
line
reached
the
first
houses
and
a
cheer
came
back
.
A
red
light
soared
up
,
and
then
we
in
our
turn
advanced
.
It
was
difficult
to
walk
.
And
as
we
went
forward
,
fear
was
driven
out
by
horror
.
Not
a
shot
was
fired
at
us
.
But
the
ground
became
increasingly
hideous
.
Nameless
things
,
pink
,
white
,
red
,
mud
-
bespattered
,
still
with
rags
of
gray
or
khaki
.
We
crossed
our
own
front
trench
and
traversed
the
no
-
man
’
s
-
land
.
When
we
came
to
the
German
trenches
there
was
nothing
to
see
.
Everything
had
been
buried
or
blown
out
of
them
.
There
we
halted
for
a
moment
,
lying
down
in
the
craters
,
almost
in
peace
.
To
the
north
the
firing
was
very
intense
.
The
Cameronians
had
been
caught
on
the
wire
.
In
twenty
minutes
they
lost
every
officer
except
one
.
And
four
-
fifths
of
their
men
were
killed
.
"
Figures
appeared
between
the
wrecked
cottages
ahead
,
their
hands
high
.
Some
of
them
being
held
up
by
friends
.
They
were
the
first
prisoners
.
Many
of
them
were
yellow
with
lyddite
.
Yellow
men
out
of
the
white
curtain
of
light
.
One
walked
straight
towards
me
,
lurching
,
with
his
head
tilted
,
as
if
in
a
dream
,
and
fell
straight
into
a
deep
crater
.
