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sequence of events" carried me across to Dublin, and
thence to Limerick. There was snow on the ground
and the Emerald Isle was cold and crunchy under-

By the time I had been at Limerick a week I knew
that I had found something closely resembling peace
of mind. My body stood about for hours on parade,
watching young soldiers drill and do physical train-
ing, and this made it easy for me to spend my spare
time refusing to think. I felt extraordinarily healthy,
and I was seldom alone. There had been no difficulty
in reverting to what the people who thought they
knew me would have called my "natural self5'. I
merely allowed myself to become what they expected
me to be. As someone good-naturedly remarked, I
had "given up lecturing on the prevention of war-
weariness"(which meant, I suppose, that the only
way to prevent it was to stop the War). The "New
Barracks", which had been new for a good many
years, were much more cheerful than the huts at
Clitherland, and somehow made me feel less like a
temporary soldier. Looking at the lit windows of the
barrack square on my first evening in Ireland, I felt
profoundly thankful that I wasn't at Slateford. And
the curfew-tolling bells of Limerick Cathedral soun-
ded much better than the factory hooters around
Clitherland Camp. I had been talking to four officers
who had been with me in the First Battalion in 1916,
and we had been reviving memories of what had
become the more or less "good old days" at Mametz.
Two of them had been wounded in the Ypres battle
three months before, and their experiences had appar-
ently made Mametz Wood seem comparatively pleas-