In the general ignoble screech the pronouncements of the one or two dignified and thoughtful London newspapers passed unheeded....
I drew what comfort I could from the sight of the continually passing troops; a platoon off to musketry training; a battalion, brown and dusty, on a route march with full equipment, whistling "Tipperary"; sections of an Army Service train cursing good-humouredly at their mules; a battery of artillery thundering along at a clean, rhythmical trot which, considering what they were like in their slovenly jogging and bumping three months ago, afforded me prodigious pleasure.

On the passing of these last-mentioned I felt inclined to clap my hands and generally proclaim my appreciation.

Indeed, I did arrest a fresh-faced subaltern bringing up the rear of the battery who, having acquaintance with me, saluted, and I shouted: "They're magnificent!" He reared up his horse and flushed with pleasure.
"We've done our best, sir," said he.

"We had news last week that we should be sent out quite soon, and that has bucked them up enormously." He saluted again and rode off, and my heart went with him.

What a joy it would be to clatter down a road once again with the guns! And other people passed.