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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

Co-operation, Common sense, and Consolidation'*
he had that morning been co-operating with nothing
except his confident ambition to add a bar to his
D.C.M. (which, I am glad to say, he ultimately did).
I suppose it was partly my fault. Both of us ought
to have known better than to behave like that. The
outcome was absurd, but logical. And to say that I
was well out of it is an understatement of an extremely
solemn fact.

Ill

THUS ENDED my last week at the War. And there,
perhaps, my narrative also should end. For I
seem to write these words of someone who never re-
turned from France, someone whose effort to succeed
in that final experience was finished when he lay
down in the sunken road and wondered what he ought
to say.

I state this quite seriously, though I am aware that
it sounds somewhat nonsensical. But even now I won-
der how it was that Wickham's bullet didn't go
through my skull instead of only furrowing my scalp.
For it had been a fixed idea of mine that something
like that would happen. Amateur psychologists will
say that I had a "death-wish", I suppose. But that
seems to me to be much the same as wanting peace
at any price, so we won't argue about it.

Anyhow I see a sort of intermediate version of
myself, who afterwards developed into what I am
now; I sec him talking volubly to Velmore and Howitt
on the way back lo company H.Q.; and saying good-
bye with a bandaged head and assuring them that
he'd be back in a week or two, and then walking
797