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?”