Energy books

"I shall
be badly wounded."
The hard man, who loved flowers, drank his fourth glass of whisky.
"It's going to be damned uncomfortable," he said. "I wish the filthy
thing were over. Our generals will probably arrange some glorious
little massacres. I know 'em! . . . Well, good night, all."
They went out into the darkness of the village lane. Battalions were
already on the move, in the night. Their steady tramp of feet beat on
the hard road. Their dark figures looked like an army of ghosts.
Sparks were spluttering out of the funnels of army cookers. A British
soldier in full field kit was kissing a woman in the shadow-world of
an estaminet. I passed close to them, almost touching them before I
was aware of their presence.
"Bonne chance!" said the woman. "Quand to reviens--"
"One more kiss, lassie," said the man.
"Mans comme to es gourmand, toi!"
He kissed her savagely, hungrily. Then he lurched off the sidewalk and
formed up with other men in the darkness.
The Scots Guards moved next morning.


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