and armbands, thirsty for little
cocktails after a dusty drive. Everywhere in the streets and on the
esplanade there was incessant saluting. The arms of men were never
still. It was like the St. Vitus disease. Tommies and Jocks saluted
every subaltern with an automatic gesture of convulsive energy. Every
subaltern acknowledged these movements and in turn saluted a multitude
of majors, colonels, and generals. The thing became farcical, a
monstrous absurdity of human relationship, yet pleasing to the vanity of
men lifted up above the lowest caste. It seemed to me an intensification
of the snob instinct in the soul of man. Only the Australians stood out
against it, and went by all officers except their own with a careless
slouch and a look of "To hell with all that handwagging."

Seated on high stools in the Folkestone, our young officers clinked
their cocktails, and then whispered together.

"When's it coming?"

"In a few days... I'm for the Gommecourt sector."

"Do you think we shall get through?"

"Not a doubt of it. The cavalry are massing for a great drive. As soon
as we make the gap they'll ride into the blue."

"By God!... There'll be some slaughter"

"I think the old Boche will crack this time."

"Well, cheerio!"

There was a sense of enormous drama at hand, and the excitement of it in
boys' hearts drugged all doubt and fears. It was only the older men, and
the introspective, who suffered from the torture of apprehension. Even
timid fellows in the ranks were, I imagine, strengthened and exalted by
the communal courage of their company or battalion, for courage as
well as fear is infectious, and the psychology of the crowd uplifts
the individual to immense heights of daring when alone he would
be terror--stricken. The public-school spirit of pride in name and
tradition was in each battalion of the New Army, extended later to the
division, which became the unit of esprit de corps. They must not "let
the battalion down." They would do their damnedest to get farther than
any other crowd, to bag more prisoners, to gain more "kudos." There was
rivalry even among the platoons and the companies. "A" Company would
show "B" Company the way to go! Their sergeant-major was a great fellow!
Their platoon commanders were fine kids! With anything like a chance--

In that spirit, as far as I, an outsider could see and hear, did
our battalions of boys march forward to "The Great Push," whistling,
singing, jesting, until