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Oh, of course, I knew John McGuire had gone; but somehow I never thought of him as fightin' not with guns an' bloody gore, in spite of them letters of his. Some way, in my mind's eyes I always see him marchin' with flags flyin' an' folks cheerin'; an' I thought the war'd be over, anyhow, by the time he got there.
"He's bleedin' for his country, is 'Biades, if you really want to know; and if you was helpful you'd lend us that knife o' yours." "What for, missy?" "Why, to take off the injured limb. 'Bert's knife's no good since the fore-part o' the week, when he broke the blade prizin' up limpets an' never guessing how soon this War'd be upon us." "I did," maintained 'Bert. "I was gettin' in food supplies."
"I'll tell yer what the artillery do blow up their own mates what's in the front line, there now!" "If we'd 'ad artillery in August, 1914, the war'd 'a' bin over in three weeks!" "Don't yer believe it! It's the infantry what 'as all the danger an' gits all the rotten jobs. The artillery's cushey compared wi' the infantry." "The artillery 'as a bloody sight 'eavier losses!" "Go on tell us another!
I wish the war'd gone on and on until everyone of them bastards had been killed in it." "Which bastards?" "The men who got us fellers over here." He began coughing again weakly. "But they'll be safe if every other human being...." began Andrews. He was interrupted by a thundering voice from the end of the ward. "Attention!" "Home, boys, home; it's home we want to be," went on the song.
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