A tiny village settled in a crook of the hill, and its church-tower sounded seven with a curiously sweet chime.

Otherwise there was no noise but the twitter of small birds and the night wind in the tops of the beeches.
In that moment I had a kind of revelation.

I had a vision of what I had been fighting for, what we all were fighting for.

It was peace, deep and holy and ancient, peace older than the oldest wars, peace which would endure when all our swords were hammered into ploughshares.

It was more; for in that hour England first took hold of me.