"Any room for us there?" asked one of these bronzed fellows as he
marched with his battalion past a cemetery where the fantastic devices
of French graves rose above the churchyard wall.
"Oh, we'll do all right in the open air, all along of the German
trenches," was the answer he had from the lad at his side. They
grinned at their own wit.
IV
I did not find any self-conscious patriotism among the rank and file
of the New Army. The word itself meant nothing to them. Unlike the
French soldier, to whom patriotism is a religion and who has the name
of France on his lips at the moment of peril, our men were silent
about the reasons for their coming out and the cause for which they
risked their lives. It was not for imperial power. Any illusion to
"The Empire" left them stone--cold unless they confused it with the
Empire Music Hall, when their hearts warmed to the name. It was not
because they hated Germans, because after a few turns in the trenches
many of them had a fellow-feeling for the poor devils over the way,
and to the end of the war treated any prisoners they took (after the
killing in hot blood) like pet monkeys or tame bears.
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