When a man plays the game, he does things which it requires a braver
man than himself to accomplish; he never knows when he's done; he
acknowledges no limit to his cheerfulness and strength; whatever his
rank, he holds his life less valuable than that of the humblest; he
laughs at danger not because he does not dread it, but because he has
learnt that there are ailments more terrible and less curable than
death.
The men in the ranks taught me whatever I know about playing the
game. I learnt from their example. In acknowledging this, I own up to
the new equality, based on heroic values, which this war has
established. The only man who counts "out there" is the man who is
sufficiently self-effacing to show courage. The chaps who haven't done
it are the exceptions.
At the start of the war there were a good many persons whom we were
apt to think of as common and unclean. But social distinctions are a
wash-out in the trenches. We have seen St. Peter's vision, and have
heard the voice, "What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common."
Until I became a part of the war, I was a doubter of nobility in
others and a sceptic as regards myself. The growth of my personal
vision was complete when I recognised that the capacity of heroism is
latent in everybody, and only awaits the bigness of the opportunity to
call it out.
THE GLORY OF THE TRENCHES
We were too proud to live for years
When our poor death could dry the tears
Of little children yet unborn.
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