Energy books

A chaplain I knew used to try to cheer up despondent boys by
pretending to have special knowledge of inside politics.
"I have it on good authority," he said, "that peace is near at hand.
There have been negotiations in Paris--"
Or:
"I don't mind telling you lads that if you get through the next scrap
you will have peace before you know where you are."
They were not believing, now. He had played that game too often.
"Old stuff, padre!" they said.
That particular crowd did not get through the next scrap. But the
padre's authority was good. They had peace long before the armistice.
It was worst of all for boys of sensitive minds who were lucky enough
to get a "cushie" wound, and so went on and on, or who were patched up
again quickly after one, two, or three wounds, and came back again. It
was a boy like that who revealed his bitterness to me one day as we
stood together in the salient.
"It's the length of the war," he said, "which does one down. At first
it seemed like a big adventure, and the excitement of it, horrible
though it was, kept one going.


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