re
was no chance of his being allowed to pass down the gangway. But the
husband in him knew no obedience to the stern order, and he dived clean
off the stern of the steamer into the filthy water and swam, khaki and
all, to the steps at the side of the dock. And you may be sure his wife
was there to help him out, and she forgot her grief in her pride at his
daring. So he held her in his arm for a moment (and had three ringing
cheers from his mates into the bargain) before he was collared and
marched back to restraint, dirty but glorious.

Here and there one saw men much the worse for liquor; and I have no
words to describe the folly of those friends who thrust bottles of
spirits into the soldiers' hands as they passed through the streets.
They did them a double cruelty, for the poor fellows, all unstrung by
their partings, gulped the raw spirit thinking they drank courage; and
so once or twice I saw poor women saying good-bye to staggering
maniacs--grim mockeries of the husbands they might never see again, the
poor fools themselves at present oblivious indeed, but doomed to I know
not what horrors of remorse on awaking. Happily, however, there were not
many in this sad condition. Most of the men behaved with a fortitude and
gentleness that was most touching. Indeed I find it hard to express my
admiration of their bearing. There was none of the bluster of the
armchair Jingo, none of the loud hectoring and swaggering and bravado
that distinguish the carpet warrior. On the contrary, when they were
talking of the war amongst themselves they had an air of quiet
determination, of good-humoured banter, and of easy, serious confidence
far more ominous for an enemy than any amount of fluent rant. After the
world of politics, with its hair-splitting and word-mincing, it was good
to be with soldiers--the men who do the work. They knew no fine
political shades, they bandied no epithets; England was at war and they
were going to fight--that was enough. And the spirit in which they
fought all the world knows: every day during the war one read tales of
devotion and heroism that became almost commonplace; it is even a
commonplace to praise them. Yet one could not see the soldiers in this
most trying duty of all, the laying down of home ties and interests (for
I think the heroism of mere fighting is nothing to it), without feeling
a pride in the moral discipline that makes it all possible, and under
the authority of which Tommy is conten