TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

I asked about young Fernby. Durley had been in
the same hospital with him at Rouen and had seen
him once. "They were trying to rouse him up a bit,
as he didn't seem to recognize anybody. They knew
we'd been in the same Battalion, so I was taken into
his ward one night. His head was all over shrapnel
wounds. I spoke to him and tried to get him to re-
cognize me, but he didn't know who I was; he died a
few hours later."

Silence was the only comment possible; but I saw
the red screens round the bed, and Durley whispering
to Fernby's bandaged head and irrevocable eyes,
while the nurse stood by with folded hands,

III

T THE beginning of January David got himself
^^ssed for General Service abroad. I was com-
pletely taken by surprise when he came back and told
me. Apparently the doctor asked him whether he
wanted some more home service, but a sudden angry
pride made him ask to be given G.S. A couple of
weeks later he'd had his final leave and I was seeing
him off at Liverpool Station.

A glum twenty-one-year-old veteran (unofficially
in charge of a batch of young officers going out for the
first time) he butted his way along the crowded plat-
form with shoulders hunched, collar turned up to
his ears, and hands plunged in pockets. A certain
philosophic finality was combined with the fidgety
out-of-luck look which was not unusual with him.
"I've reduced my kit to a minimum this time. No re-
volver. I've worked it out that the chances are about
five to one against my ever using it," he remarked, as

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