the end of July.

We had much to talk about--son, and his mother and I. It was long
months since we had seen him, and we had seen and done so much. The
time flew by. Maybe we did not read the papers so carefully as we
might have done. They tell me, they have told me, since then, that in
Europe and even in America, there was some warning after Austria
moved on Serbia. But I believe that down there in Australia they did
not dream of danger; that they were far from understanding the
meaning of the news the papers did print. They were so far away!

And then, you ken, it came upon us like a clap of thunder. One night
it began. There was war in Europe--real war. Germany had attacked
France and Russia. She was moving troops through Belgium. And every
Briton knew what that must mean. Would Britain be drawn in? There was
the question that was on every man's tongue.

"What do you think, son?" I asked John.

"I think we'll go in," he said. "And if we do, you know, Dad--they'll
send for me to come home at once. I'm on leave from the summer
training camp now to make this trip."

My boy, two years before, had joined the Territorial army. He was a
second lieutenant in a Territorial battalion of the Argyle and
Sutherland Highlanders. It was much as if he had been an officer in a
National Guard regiment in the United States. The territorial army
was not bound to serve abroad--but who could doubt that it would, and
gladly. As it did--to a man, to a man.