And later, when the War is won
And each man murmurs, "Well, that's that,"
And reckons up what he has done
To put the Germans on the mat,
I'll say, "It took ten myriad guns
And fighting vessels by the batch;
But we too served, we ancient ones,
Who dug in our potato patch."

ALGOL.

* * * * *

"IT."

PHASE I.

The doctor says, perfectly cheerfully and as though it were really not a
matter of vital importance, that there is no doubt that I have got IT. He
remarks that IT is all over the place, and that he has a couple of hundred
other cases at the present time.

I resent his attitude as far as I have strength to do anything at all. I
did not give permission for him to be called in just to have my sufferings
brushed aside like this. He only stays about three minutes altogether,
during which time he relates two funny stories (at least I suppose they are
funny, because my nurse laughs; I can't see any point in them myself), and
makes several futile remarks about the War. As though the War were a matter
of importance by comparison! Then he goes, talking breezily all the way
down the stairs.