"My wife was in fashion too, you know. Not a tear! I kept waiting and
waiting for her to begin to scream and beg me at last to get out of the
train, and not go with the others--beg me to be a coward for her sake.
Not one of them had the courage to. They just wanted to be in fashion.
Mine, too! Mine, too! She waved her handkerchief just like all the
rest."
His twitching arms writhed upwards, as though he were calling the
heavens to witness.
"You want to know what was the most awful thing?" he groaned, turning to
the Philosopher abruptly. "The disillusionment was the most awful thing
--the going off. The war wasn't. The war is what it has to be. Did it
surprise you to find out that war is horrible? The only surprising thing
was the going off. To find out that the women are horrible--that was the
surprising thing. That they can smile and throw roses, that they can
give up their men, their children, the boys they have put to bed a
thousand times and pulled the covers over a thousand times, and petted
and brought up to be men. That was the surprise! That they gave us up--
that they sent us--_sent_ us! Because every one of them would have
been ashamed to stand there without a hero. That was the great
disillusionment. Do you think we should have gone if they had not sent
us? Do you think so? Just ask the stupidest peasant out there why he'd
like to have a medal before going back on furlough.
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