"There are millions of what the Germans call 'cannon fodder'
about. But there are few intellects--few men, shall I say?--of
genius, scarcely a poet. And men like myself who can express--
that's the whole vital point--who can EXPRESS the higher
philosophy of the Empire, and can point the way to its realisation
are surely more valuable than the yokel or factory hand, who, as
the sum-total of his capabilities, can be trained merely into a
sort of shooting machine. Just look at it, my dear Major, from a
commonsense point of view--" He forgot, the amazing young idiot,
that he was talking not to a maiden aunt, but to a hard-bitten old
soldier. "What good would it serve to stick the comparatively rare
man--I say it in all modesty--the comparatively rare man like
myself in the trenches? It would be foolish waste. I assure you
I'm putting all my talents at the disposal of the country."
Seeing, I suppose, in my eyes, the maintained stoniness of non-
conviction, he went on, "But, pay dear sir, be reasonable." ...
Reasonable! I nearly choked. If I could have stood once more on my
useless legs, I should have swung my left arm round and clouted
him on the side of the head. Reasonable indeed! This well-fed,
able-bodied, young Oxford prig to tell me, an honourable English
officer and gentleman, to be reasonable, when the British Empire,
in peril of its existence, was calling on all its manhood to
defend it in arms! I glared at him. He continued:--

"Yes, be reasonable. Everyone has his place in this World
conflict. We can't all be practical fighters. You wouldn't set
Kitchener or Grey or Lord Crewe to bayonet Germans--"

"By God, sir," I cried, smiting one palm with the fist of the