sir.” Feeling that I ought to jump out of bed and salute, and that it would be appropriate and pleasant to introduce him to “some of my people” (preferably of impeccable social status). Willingness to discuss active service technicalities and revive memories of shared front-line experience.
Middle-aged or elderly Male Civilian : Tendency (in response to sympathetic gratitude for services rendered to King and Country) to assume haggard facial aspect of one who had “been through hell.” Inclination to wish that my wound was a bit worse than it actually was, and have nurses hovering round with discreet reminders that my strength mustn’t be overtaxed. Inability to reveal anything crudely horrifying to civilian sensibilities. “Oh yes, I’ll be out there again by the autumn.” (Grimly wan reply to suggestions that I was now honourably qualified for a home service job.) Secret antagonism to all uncomplimentary references to the German Army.
Charming Sister of Brother Officer : Jocular, talkative, debonair, and diffidently heroic. Wishful to be wearing all possible medal-ribbons on pyjama jacket. Able to furnish a bright account of her brother (if still at the front) and suppressing all unpalatable facts about the War. “Jolly decent of you to blow in and see me.”
Hunting Friend (a few years above Military Service Age) : Deprecatory about sufferings endured at the front. Tersely desirous of hearing all about last season’s sport. “By Jingo, that must have been a nailing good gallop!” Jokes about the Germans, as if throwing bombs at them was a tolerable substitute for foxhunting. A good deal of guffawing (mitigated by remembrance that I’d got a bullet hole through my lung). Optimistic anticipations of next season’s Opening Meet and an early termination of hostilities on all fronts.
Nevertheless my supposed reactions to any one of these hypothetical visitors could only be temporary. When alone with my fellow patients I