40

One night I drank some of the whiskey I had bought at Christmas and brooded on injustice. Some time after midnight I wrote a letter to Shirley.

Dear Shirley, I know that you think that my behaviour is altogether selfish. But I am twenty-one. Fifty years ago I would have been sent to be killed in France. What happened in 1914-18 gives a clear picture of the attitude of Society to its young men. Society seeks to exploit its young men, and in that exploitation there is no thought of justice and no thought of mercy. Young men are only educated and trained so that they can be exploited. Society is Woman. Woman is Society.

I should be selfish. I should take what I can and give as little as possible in return. The clock cannot be put back. One cannot regard history as an abstraction that does not affect personal attitudes. The many dead of the Great War are with us. We are always stepping over their bodies. Their vile smell makes us dislike the sunshine, and they ask us questions with their rotted mouths that are so simple and so unanswer­able.

When there is the blowing of bugles in November the women can think beautiful sad thoughts, but men should feel bitterness.

If I had gone to France and been turned into manure, I would have been one of the selfless dead. But I am alive and selfish. How wicked it is not to be dead! Wendy

I read over what I had written. I could not understand why I had written it. Shirley would not be able to understand it. I tore the sheet of paper to pieces.