CHAPTERXVI

chapterxvi

itwasastonishinghowloudlyonelaughedattalesofgruesomethings,ofwar'sbrutality-iwiththerestofthem.ithinkatthebottomofitwasasenseoftheironicalcontrastbetweenthenormalwaysofcivilianlifeandthishark-backtothecavemancode.itmadeallouroldphilosophyoflifemonstrouslyridiculous.itplayedthe“hattrick”withthegentilityofmodernmanners.menwhohadbeenbroughtuptochristianvirtues,whohadprattledtheirlittleprayersatmothers'knees,whohadgrownuptoaloveofpoetry,painting,music,thegentlearts,over-sensitizedtothesubtletiesofhalf-tones,delicatescalesofemotion,fastidiousintheirchoiceofwords,intheirsenseofbeauty,foundthemselvescompelledtoliveandactlikeape-men;anditwasabominablyfunny.theylaughedatthemostfrightfulepisodes,whichrevealedthiscontrastbetweencivilizedethicsandtheoldbeastlaw.themorerevoltingitwasthemore,sometimes,theyshoutedwithlaughter,especiallyinreminiscence,whenthetalewastoldinthegildedsalonofafrenchchateau,oratamess-table.

itwas,ithink,thelaughterofmortalsatthetrickwhichhadbeenplayedonthembyanironicalfate.theyhadbeentaughttobelievethatthewholeobjectoflifewastoreachouttobeautyandlove,andthatmankind,initsprogresstoperfection,hadkilledthebeastinstinct,cruelty,blood-lust,theprimitive,savagelawofsurvivalbytoothandclawandclubandax.allpoetry,allart,allreligionhadpreachedthisgospelandthispromise.

nowthatidealhadbrokenlikeachinavasedashedtohardground.thecontrastbetweenthatandthiswasdevastating.itwas,inanenormousworld-shakingway,likeahighlydignifiedmaninasilkhat,morningcoat,creasedtrousers,spats,andpatentbootssuddenlyslippingonapieceoforange-peelandsitting,allofaheap,withsilkhatflying,inafilthygutter.thewar-timehumorofthesoulroaredwithmirthatthesightofallthatdignityandelegancedespoiled.

sowelaughedmerrily,iremember,whenamilitarychaplain(eton,christchurch,andchristianservice)describedhowanenglishsergeantstoodroundthetraverseofagermantrench,inanightraid,andasthegermanscamehisway,thinkingtoescape,hecleftoneskullafteranotherwithasteel-studdedbludgeon—aweaponwhichhehadmadewithlovingcraftsmanshiponthemodelofblunderbore'sclubinthepicturesofafairy-tale.

sowelaughedattheadventuresofayoungbarrister(abrilliantfellowintheoxford“union”)whosepleasureitwastocreepouto'nightsintonoman'slandandlieoinashell-holeclosetotheenemy'sbarbedwire,untilpresently,afteranhour'swaitingortwo,agermansoldierwouldcrawlouttofetchinacorpse.theenglishbarristerlaywithhisrifleready.wheretherehadbeenonecorpsethereweretwo.eachnighthemadeanotchonhisrifle—threenotchesonenight—tocheckthenumberofhisvictims.thenhecamebacktobreakfastinhisdugoutwithaheartyappetite.

inonesectionoftrenchesthemenmadeahabitofbettinguponthosewhowouldbewoundedfirst.ithadalltheuncertaintyoftheroulette-table...oneday,whenthegermangunnerswereputtingoveraspecialdoseofhate,asergeantkeptcomingtoonedugouttoinquireabouta“newchum,”whohadcomeupwiththedrafts.

“isprivatesmithallright?”heasked.

“yes,sergeant,he'sallright,”answeredthemencrouchinginthedarkhole.

“privatesmithisn'twoundedyet?”askedthe,sergeantagain,fiveminuteslater.

“no,sergeant.”

privatesmithwastouchedbythisinterestinhiswell-being.

“thatsergeantseemsaverykindman,”saidtheboy.“seemstolovemelikeafather!”

ayelloflaughteransweredhim.

“youpoor,bleedingfool!”saidoneofhiscomrades.“he'sdrawnyouinalottery!stoodtowinifyou'dbeenhit.”

iningnewtrenchesandnewdugouts,bodiesandbitsofbodieswereunearthed,andputintosand-bagswiththesoilthatwassentbackdownalineofmenconcealingtheirworkfromgermaneyeswaitingforanynewactivityinourditches.

“bitofbill,”saidtheleadingman,puttinginaleg.

“anotherbitofbill,”hesaid,unearthingahand.

“bill'suglymug,”hesaidatalaterstageintheoperations,whenaheadwasfound.

astoldafterward,thatlittleepisodeinthetrenchesseemedimmenselycomic.generalschuckledoverit.chaplainstreasuredit.

howweusedtoguffawattheanswerofthecockneysoldierwhometagermansoldierwithhishandsup,crying:“kamerad!kamerad!mercy!”

“notsomuchofyour'mercy,kamerad,'”saidthecockney.“'andusoveryourbloodyticker!”

itwastheman'swatchhewanted,withoutsentiment.

onetalewasmostpopular,mostmirth-arousingintheearlydaysofthewar.

“where'syourprisoner?”askedanintelligenceofficerwaitingtoreceiveagermansentdownfromthetrenchesunderescortofanhonestcorporal.

“ilosthimontheway,sir,”saidthecorporal.

“losthim?”

thecorporalwasembarrassed.

“verysorry,sir.myfeelingsovercameme,sir.itwaslikethis,sir.themanstartedtalkingonthewaydown.saidhewasthinkingofhispoorwife.i'dbeenthinkingofmine,andifeltsorryforhim.thenhementionedashowhehadtwokiddiesathome.i'avetwokiddiesat'ome,sir,andicouldn't'elpfeelingsorryforhim.thenhesaidashowhisoldmotherhaddiedawhileagoandhe'dneverseeheragain.whenhestartedcryin'iwassosorryforhimicouldn'tstanditanylonger,sir.soikilledthepoorblighter.”

ourmeninthetrenches,andoutofthem,uptothewaistinwatersometimes,lyinginslimydugouts,lice—eaten,rat-haunted,ontheedgeofmine-craters,underharassingfire,withjusttheflukeofluckbetweenlifeanddeath,seizeduponanykindofjokeasanexcuseforlaughter,andmanyatimeinruinsandintrenchesandindugoutsihaveheardgreatlaughter.itwastheprotectivearmorofmen'ssouls.theyknewthatiftheydidnotlaughtheircouragewouldgoandnothingwouldstandbetweenthemandfear.

“youknow,sir,”saidasergeant-major,oneday,wheniwalkedwithhimdownacommunicationtrenchsoedthatmytop-bootswerefullofslime,“itdoesn'tdototakethiswarseriously.”

and,asthoughinanswertohim,asoldierwithoutbreechesandwithhisshirttiedbetweenhislegslookedatmeandremarked,inaphilosophicalway,withjustaglintofcomedyinhiseyes:

“thattheregrandfleetofoursdon'tseemtobeveryactive,sir.it'sapityitdon'tcomedowntheseblinkin'trenchesanddoabitofwork!”

“havingaclean-up,myman?”saidabrigadiertoasoldiertryingtowashinabasinaboutthesizeofakitchenmug.

“yes,sir,”saidtheman,“andiwishiwasablastedcanary.”

oneofthemostremarkablebattlesonthefrontwasfoughtbyabattalionofworcestersforthebenefitoftwoenglishmembersofparliament.itwasnotaverybigbattle,butmostdramaticwhileitlasted.thecolonel(whohadasenseofhumor)arrangeditafteratelephonemessagetohisdugouttellinghimthattwopoliticianswereabouttovisithisbattalionintheline,andaskinghimtoshowthemsomethinginteresting.

“interesting?”saidthecolonel.“dotheythinkthiswarisapeep-showforpoliticians?dotheywantmetoarrangeamassacretomakealondonholiday?”thenhisvoicechangedandhelaughed.“showthemsomethinginteresting?oh,allright;idaresayicandothat.”

hedid.whenthetwom.p.'sarrived,apparentlyatthefront-linetrenches,theywereinformedbythecolonelthat,muchtohisregret,fortheirsake,theenemywasjustattacking,andthathismenweredefendingtheirpositiondesperately.

“wehopeforthebest,”hesaid,“andithinkthereisjustachancethatyouwillescapewithyourlivesifyoustayherequitequietly.”

“greatgod!”saidoneofthem.p.'s,andtheotherwassilent,butpale.

certainlytherewasallthenoiseofabigattack.theworcesterswerestanding-toonthefire-step,firingrifle—grenadesandthrowingbombswithterrificenergy.everynowandthenamanfell,andthestretcher-bearerspouncedonhim,tiedhimupinbandages,andcarriedhimawaytothefielddressing-station,whistlingastheywent,“wewon'tgohometillmorning,”inamostheroicway...thebattlelastedtwentyminutes,attheendofwhichtimethecolonelannouncedtohisvisitors:

“theattackisrepulsed,andyou,gentlemen,havenothingmoretofear.”

oneofthem.p.'swasthrilledwithexcitement.“thevalorofyourmenwasmarvelous,”hesaid.“whatimpressedmemostwasthecheerfulnessofthewounded.theywereactuallygrinningastheycamedownonthestretchers.”

thecolonelgrinned,too.infact,hestifledafitofcoughing.“funnydevils!”hesaid.“theyaresogladtobegoinghome.”

themembersofparliamentwentawayenormouslyimpressed,buttheyhadnotenjoyedthemselvesnearlyaswellastheworcesters,whohadfoughtashambattle—notinthefront-linetrenches,butinthesupporttrenchestwomilesback!theylaughedforaweekafterward.