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.

SMITH.  If ever I get home ...!

WHISTON.  Well?

SMITH.  Won’t I paint the town red, that’s all!

WHISTON.  If ever I get home ... well, I guess I’ll go home.  No more razzle-dazzle for master!  No, there’s a little girl awaiting, and I know she thinks of me.  Shan’t wait any longer.

HANCOCK (heavily).  Don’t think a chap’s got any right to marry a girl under present circs.  It’s ten to one she’s a widow before she’s a mother.

SMITH.  Oh, shut up!

CAPTAIN DODD (gently).  To some women the kid would be just the one thing that made life bearable.

HANCOCK (reddening).  Sorry, sir; forgot you’d just done it.  Course you’re right.  Depends absolutely on the girl.

CAPTAIN DODD.  Thanks.  I say, Whiston, I’m going to B.H.Q.  Care to come along?

    (They go out together.)

    SCENE. A path through a wood.  CAPTAIN DODD and WHISTON
    walking together, followed by a LANCE-CORPORAL.

DODD.  D’you believe in presentiments, Whiston?

WHISTON (doubtfully).  A year ago I should have laughed at you for asking.  Now ...

DODD.  More things in heaven and earth ...?

WHISTON.  My rationalism is always being upset!

DODD.  How exactly?

WHISTON.  For instance, I simply can’t believe that old John is finished.  Can you?

DODD (quietly).  No.

WHISTON.  Funny thing.  As far as I’m concerned I can quite imagine myself just snuffing out.  You can put one word on my grave, if I have one—­“Napu.”  But as for John, no.  I want something else.  Something about Death being scored off after all.

DODD.  I know.  “O Death, where is thy sting?  O Grave, where is thy victory?”

WHISTON.  Just that.  Mind you, I don’t think I’m afraid of Death.  I don’t want to get killed.  But if I saw him coming I think I could smile, and feel that after all he wasn’t getting much of a bargain.  But the idea of his getting old John sticks in my gullet.  I believe in all sorts of things for him.  Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all that.

DODD.  What do you think about it, Corporal?

LANCE-CORPORAL.  Same as Mr. Whiston, sir.

WHISTON.  But what about presentiments?