BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's wot I
bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move on an' finish it.

FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another stroke in
my natural. The old woman can keep me, ---- 'er, an' if she don't
I'll--well--'er ---- ----.

JIM (_indignantly_). Nice sort o' bloke you are! Arter creatin' abaht
ole Bill makin' you miserable, you goes on to plan 'ow you'll make
other folks miserable! Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin',
I sez, an' keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets
'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, and I'll be a different sort
o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I will! My missus won't
'ave no cause to wish as I've been done in.

BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like to go afore
this war's finished.

JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A bloke's got to
go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get done in doin' my dooty as
I would die in my bed. I ain't struck on dyin' afore my time, and I
don't know as I'm greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you
got ter make the best on it.

BILL (_meditatively_). I woulden mind stoppin' a bullet fair an'
square; but I woulden like one of them 'orrible lingerin' deaths.
"Died o' wounds" arter six munfs' mortal hagony--that's wot gets at
me. Git it over an' done wiv, I sez.

FRED (_querulously_). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives me the creeps, you