VIII

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS


II

SCENE. _A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. Officers at
tea._

HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing trench,
anyway. (_A dull report is heard in the distance._) There goes another
torpedo! Wonder who's copt it this time!

SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else!

HANCOCK (_ignoring him_). Are we coming back to the same trenches,
sir?

CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so.

HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall last another two spells. I hate
this sort of bisnay. You go on month after month losing fellows the
whole time, and at the end of it you're exactly where you started. I
wish they'd get a move on.

WHISTON. Tired of life?

HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war is going on
another two years, I hope to God I don't live to see the end of it.