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"
"I'm for the people," said another. "The poor, bloody people, who are
kept in ignorance and then driven into the shambles when their rulers
desire to grab some new part of the earth's surface or to get their
armies going because they are bored with peace."
"What price Christianity?" asked another, inevitably. "What have the
churches done to stop war or preach the gospel of Christ? The Bishop
of London, the Archbishop of Canterbury, all those conventional,
patriotic, cannon--blessing, banner-baptizing humbugs. God! They make
me tired!"
Strange words to hear in a cavalry mess! Strange turmoil in the souls
of men! They were the same words I had heard from London boys in
Ypres, spoken just as crudely. But many young gentlemen who spoke
those words have already forgotten them or would deny them.


XIX

The winter of 1915-16 passed with its misery, and spring came again to
France and Flanders with its promise of life, fulfilled in the beauty
of wild flowers and the green of leaves where the earth was not made
barren by the fire of war and all trees killed.


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