JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows on.

ALBERT. What's that, matey?

JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in the bleedin'
trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' send 'em away for a week
to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's intense at the end of
it if they've failed. They'd find a way, sure enough.

ALBERT (admiringly). Ah, that they would an' all. If old "Wait
and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e wouldn't talk about
fightin' to the last man!

JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? Don't yer know
what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter leave the 'Uns in France an'
Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer
the 'Uns. An' if you are done in, you got to go under some day. I
ain't sure as they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done
with. And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave 'ad
two fer our one.

ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't touch 'em.

JINKS. (_but without conviction_). Don't talk silly.

POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they didn't ought
to give a chap short rations. That's what takes the 'eart out of a
chap.