Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

38 страница из 94

"Good night."

Tyson stood at the top of the steps, looking after his guest until he was lost to view in the shadows of the avenue. Returning to his chair by the shaded lamp, he took up his old friend's letter, carefully slit open the envelope, and drew out the sheaf of closely written pages. He lit a cigarette and began to read.

"North Camp: Aldershot." As Tyson's glance fell upon the familiar heading, a gust of emotion swept across his senses. North Camp--how vividly he remembered the place and his own experiences there twenty years before! He saw the rows of old brick barracks, the bare parade grounds with their borders of dusty trees, and men armed with ancient Boer War rifles at squad, platoon, and company drill in the first autumn of the war. "Move to the right in fours! Fo-o-rm, fours!"... "At the halt, on the left, form close column of platoons!" He could hear the voices of those old dependables, the sergeants, whipping Lord Kitchener's First Hundred Thousand into shape. And what men they were, those early volunteers! Never in England's history had there been such an army as that, nor would there be again. He recalled the spirit of those days--the never-to-be-forgotten comradeships, the sense of great events at hand, and, above all, the mingled feeling of happiness and poignant sadness that seemed to be a part of the wan autumn sunshine. He remembered the route marches, the brigade and divisional field days in the early spring of '15, when the bitterness, the tragedy, the disillusionment, of war were yet to come; when the roads of the English countryside were filled with high-spirited lads in the perfection of health and hardness after nine months of training. He saw them marching, rifles at the slope, singing the songs of those days: "Hold Your Hand Out, Naughty Boy!"... "Hello! Hello! Who's Your Lady Friend?" and a score of others. He heard again the bugles of Aldershot sounding retreat, last post, lights out. He sighed deeply. Best to let those memories lie buried with the men who might have shared them with him.

Правообладателям