14 
LAND c^' \y A T E R 
May II. 1916 
Bill lit a candle and placed it on the floor while I co\'crcd 
up the window with a gnjund sheet. 
The window looked out on the iirinf;; line, three kilo- 
metres away, and the li^ht, if uncovered, might Ix.- seen 
by the enemy. I j^lanced down the street and saw boys 
in khaki strolling aimlessly about, their cigarettes glow- 
ing. . . , The starshells rose in the sky out behind 
Bully-Grenay, and again I had that feeling of the enemy's 
presence wjilch was mine a few moments before. 
Kore returned from a neighbouring cafe, a thoughtful 
look in his dark eyes and a certain irresolution in his 
movements. His delicate nostrils and pale lips quivered 
nervou^l}', betraying doubt and a little fear of the work 
ahead at dawn. Under his arm he carried a bottle of 
champagne which he placed on the floor beside the 
candle. Sighing a little, he lay down at full length on 
the floor, not before he brushed the dust aside with a 
newspaper. Kore was very neat and took a great pride 
in his uniform, which fltted him like an eyelid. 
Felan and M'Crone came in together, arm in arm. 
The latter was in a great state of subdued excitement ; 
hi^ whole body shook as if he was in fever ; when he 
spoke his voice was highly pitched and unnatural, a sign 
that he was under the strain of great nervous tension. 
Felan looked very nnicli at ease, though now and again 
lie fumbli'd with the pockets of his tunic, buttoning and 
imbuttoning the flaps and digging his hands into his 
jxxkets as if feeling for something which was not there. 
He had no cause for alarm ; he was the comjjany cook 
and, according to regulations, would not cross in the 
charge. 
'■ Blimey ! you're not 'arf a lucky dawg ! " said Bill, 
glancing at Felan. " 1 wish I was the cook to-morrow." 
" I almost wish I was myself.'" 
" Wot d'yer mean ? " 
" Do you expect an Irishman is going to cook bully- 
oeef when his regiment goes over the top ? " asked 
Felan. " For shame ! " 
We rose, all of us, shook him solemnly by the hand, 
and wished him luck. 
" Now, what about the addresses ? " asked Kore. 
" It's time we wrote them down." 
" It's as well to get it over," I said, but no one stirred. 
\\'e viewed the job with distrust. By doing it we 
reconciled ourselves to a dread inevitable ; the writing 
of these addresses seemed to be the only thing that stood 
between us and death. If we could only put it off for 
another little while. . . . 
" We'll 'ave a drink to 'clp us," said Bill, and a cork 
went plonk ! The bottle was handed round and each 
of us, except the Corporal, drank in turn until the bottle 
was emptied. The Corporal was a teetotaler. 
" Now, we'll begin," I said. The wine had given me 
strength. " If I am) killed write to — and — . Tell them 
that my death was sudden, easy." 
" That's the thing to tell them," said the Corporal. 
" It's always best to tell those at home that death was 
sudden and painless. It's not much of a consolation, 
but " 
He paused. 
" It's the only thing one can do," said Felan. 
" I've nobody to write to," said Pryor, when his turn 
came. 
" There's a Miss . But what the devil docs it 
matter. I've nobody to write to, rtobody that cares a 
damn what becomes of me," he concluded. " At least, 
I'm not like Bill. " 
" And who will I write to for you. Bill ? " 1 asked. 
Bill scratched his little white potato of a nose, puckered 
his lips and became thoughtful. I suddenly realised 
that Bill was very dear to me. 
" Not afraid, matey ? " I asked. 
" Naw," he answered, in a thoughtful voice. " A 
Bian has only to die once, anyhow," said Felan. 
" Greedy ! 'Ow many times tl'yer want to die ? " asked 
Bill. " But I s'pose if a man 'ad nine lives like a rat. he 
wouldn't mind dyin' once." 
" But suppose," said Pryor. 
" S'pose," muttered Bill. " Well, if it 'as to be it 
can't be 'elped. . . . I'm not goin' to give any 
address to nobody," he said. " I'm goin' to 'ave a 
drink." 
We were all seated on the floor round the candle which 
was stuck in the neck of an empty champagne bottle. 
-The candle flickered faintly, and the light made feeble 
light with the shadows in the corners. The room was 
full of the anmatic flavour of Turkish cigarettes and 
choice cigars, for money was spent that evening with the 
recklessness of men going out to die. 
I began to feel drowsy, but another mouthful of cham- 
pagne renewed vitality in my body. With tliis feeling 
came a certain indifference towards the morrow. I must 
confess that up to now I had a vague distrust of my 
actions in tlie work ahead. My normal self revolted at 
the thought of the coming dawn ; the experiences of my 
life had not prepared me for one day of savage and ruthless 
butchery. To- morrow I had to go forth prepared to do 
much that I disliked. ... I had another sip of wine ; 
we were at the last bottle now. 
Pryor k>oked out of the window, raising the blind so 
that httle light shone out into the darkness. ' 
" A Scottish division are passing through the street 
now, in silence, their kilts swinging," he said. " My 
God ! it docs look fine." 
He arranged the blind again and sat down. Bill was 
cutting a sultana cake in neat portions and handing them 
round. 
" Come Felan, and sing a song," said M'Crone. 
" My voice is no good now," said Felan. but by his 
way of speaking we knew that he would oblige. 
" Now, F'elan, come along ! " wc chorused. 
Felan wiped his lips with the back of his hand, took 
his cigar between finger and thumb and put it out by 
rubbing the lighted end against his trousers. Then he 
placed the cigar behind hi;; ear. 
" Well, what will I sing ? " he asked. 
" Any damned thing," said Bifl. 
" The ' Trumpeter,' and we'll all help," said Kore. 
Felan leant against the wall, thrust his head back, 
closed his eyes, stuck the thumb of his right hand into a 
buttonhole of his timic and began his song. 
His voice, rather hoarse but very pleasant, faltered a 
little at first, but was gradually permeated by a note of 
deepest feeling, and a strange passion surged through 
the mclodj'. Felan was pouring his soul into the song. 
• Trunipi'tcr, what are you sounding now ? 
Is it the call I'm seeking ? 
Lucky for you if you hear it at all. 
For my trumpet's but faintly speaknig - 
1 in calling 'cm home. Come home ! Come home I 
Tread light o'er the dead in the valley, 
Who are l^'ing around 
Face down to the ground. 
And they can't hear — ■ 
F'elan broke down suddenly, and, conring across the 
floor, he entered the circle and sat down. 
" 'Twas too high for me," he muttered huskily. " My 
voice has gone to the dogs. .... One time " 
Then he relapsed into silence. None of us spoke, but 
we were aware that Felan knew how much his song had 
moved us. 
" Ye're not having a drop at all, Corporal," said 
M'Crone. " Have a sup ; it's grand stuff." 
The Corporal shook his head. He sat on the (loot 
with his back against the wall, his hand imder his thighs. 
" I don't drink," he said. " If I can't do without it 
now after keeping off it so long, I'm not nnich good." 
" Yer don't know wot's good for yer," said Bill, gazing 
regretfully at the last half-bottle. " There's nuflink 
Hke fizz. My ole man's a devil fer 'is suds ; so'm I." 
Our platoon Sergeant appeared at the top of the stairs, 
his red head lurid in the candle light. 
" luijoying yourselves, boj's ? " he asked, with paternal 
solicitude. 
The Sergeant's heart was with his platoon. 
" 'Avin' a bit of a frisky," said Bill. " Will yer 'ave a 
drop ? " 
" I don't mind," said the Sergeant. He spoke almost 
in a whisper, and something seemed to be gripping at his 
throat. 
He put the bottle to his lips and paused for a moment. 
" Good luck to us all ! " he said, and drank. " We're 
due to leave here in lifteen minutes," he told us. " Don't 
forget your rer^pirators, boys, and be' ready when you 
hear the whistle blown out in the street. Have a smoke 
now, for no pipes or cigarettes are to be lit on the march." 
He paused for a moment, then, wiping his moustache 
with the back of his hand, he clattered down the stair* 
