vengeance.  But if an officer spoke to us kindly or did us some slight service we would call him a “brick,” a “toff,” or a “sport,” and overflow with sentimental devotion.  It was not difficult to please us, indeed it was often touching to observe for how small a thing the men would show the most ardent gratitude and work enthusiastically so as to show their appreciation.  If those with high authority in the army had only realized the tremendous influence just a little kindness and consideration had on the morale of the troops, much hatred and misunderstanding, much useless suffering and humiliation would have been avoided.

Not that the officer was any worse than the common soldier.  In fact, he was usually better.  Most officers, belonging as they did to the comparatively wealthy and leisured classes, had been able to cultivate luxuries like good-nature, benevolence and politeness all their lives.  But mere goodness was not sufficient.

Moreover, the very fact that a man possesses authority separates him from his fellows.  How could it be otherwise?  What man capable of genuine friendship could bear to exert authority over his comrades with the obligation to inflict punishment on them if he should think it “necessary”?  To dominate is worse than to be dominated.  The very feeling that a man has power over others gives him an exaggerated notion of his own importance and merits, it arouses latent brutality, it fosters grandiose thinking (that terribly harmful vice of nearly all our statesmen).  Indeed, most of the cruelty and injustice in the world are due to the demoralizing influence of authority.  And that is why there were some amongst us who would not have accepted promotion whatever material advantages it might have brought.

How could our officers, seeing that they had authority and did not live our lives, understand us and treat us as we ought to have been treated, if they were not men of exceptional imagination, sympathy, and intuition?  We never had an officer who was really a bad man.  At heart they were all good, kindly men—­and yet how often we suffered from their lack of something more than mere goodness!

* * * * *

We were twelve in a tent and going to bed always tried our tempers severely.  Some of us would come in with muddy boots and tread on the blankets of the others.  Those who went to bed early could stretch out their legs until their feet touched the tent-pole.  Those who arrived later would have to wedge themselves in as best they could and remain with knees drawn up for the rest of the night—­any attempt at forcing them down would be sure to create a disturbance and lead to a furious dispute and an exchange of insults and obscenities.  When we were all in bed, no one could stir without causing inconvenience to his neighbours.  A sleepless night, invariably accompanied by the restless impulse to stir and fidget, was unforgettable misery, but fortunately our work was so hard that sleepless nights were very rare.