We created a gratifying sensation at Kensingtowe.  It was exhilarating to have a friend come up to me and exclaim:  “By Jove, Ray, you’re no end of a dog now,” and to notice that he didn’t heed my self-depreciatory answer because he was busy looking into every detail of my uniform.  “What devilish fine fellows we are, eh what?” cried our admirers, and we blushed and said “Oh, shut up.”  We met old Dr. Chappy, who looked us up and down, roared with laughter, and said “Well, I’ll be damned!” We were welcomed into Radley’s room, and were boys enough to address him as “sir” as though we were still his pupils.  He examined our appearance like a big brother proud of two young ones, and said after a silence: 

“So this is what it has all come to.”

I took a lot of my cronies out to tea in the town, and, as we walked to the shops, stared down the road to see if any Tommies were coming who would salute me in front of my guests.  Luck was kind to me.  For a large party, marching under an N.C.O., approached us; and the N.C.O. in a voice like the crack of doom cried “Party—­eyes RIGHT!” Heads and eyes swung towards me, the N.C.O. saluted briskly, and, when the party had passed us, yelled “Eyes FRONT!” It was one of the most triumphant moments of my career.

Scarcely, however, had this pride-tickling honour been paid to me before there happened as distressing a thing as—­oh, it was dreadful!  I passed one of your full-blooded regular-army sergeants, and, since he raised his hand towards his face, I apprehended he was about to salute me.  Promptly I acknowledged the expected salute, only to discover that the sergeant had raised his hand for no other purpose than to blow his nose with his naked fingers.  Believe me, even now, when I think of this blunder, I catch my breath with shame.

What young bucks we were, Doe and I!  We bought motor-bicycles and raced over the country-side, Doe, ever a preacher of Life, calling out “This is Life, isn’t it?” I remember our bowling along a deserted country road and shouting for a lark:  “Sing of joy, sing of bliss, it was never like this, Yip-i-addy-i-ay!” I remember our scorching recklessly down white English highways, with a laugh for every bone-shaking bump, and a heart-thrill for every time we risked our lives tearing through a narrow passage between two War Department motor lorries.  I see the figure of Doe standing breathless by his bicycle after a break-neck run, his hair blown into disorder by the wind, and the white dust of England round his eyes and on his cheeks, and saying:  “My godfathers, this is Life!” Oh, yes, it was a rosy patch of life and freedom.

Sec.4

But, in our abandonment, we tumbled into more sinister things.  It was disillusionment that bowled us down.  The evil that we saw in the world and the army smashed our allegiance to the old moral codes.  We suddenly lost the old anchors and blew adrift, strange new theories filling our sails.  We ceased to think there was any harm in being occasionally “blotto” at night, or in employing the picturesque army word “bloody.”  Worse than that, we began to believe that vicious things, which in our boyhood had been very secret sins, were universally committed and bragged about.