The Reasons

THEY sat before a dugout In the unfamiliar quiet of silenced guns. And one said: "Now that it's over What about a bit of truth? Let us say why we came to fight— No frills— You first, old Fire-eater!"—

One with a whimsical face spoke freely; "I?—I sought some stir, Some urge in living, Some sense in dying. I sought a mountain top With a view!"

"And the answer?"

"I have seen others find What I sought."

"I don't know that it's anyone's business Why I came," (Another spoke as if unwillingly), "A girl laughed, I think— Funny?—Yes, funny as hell!"—

His neighbor said, "I was a business man, No sentiment, Nothing of that kind,— But the band played And, suddenly, I saw My country, A woman, with hands outstretched, Her back to the wall—"

"U—um," they nodded, "She's got a pull, That old lady."

"As for me," the speaker was abrupt, "I was afraid! I saw pictures, I heard things— I couldn't sleep For the Beast that was abroad— Fear! That's what brought me!"

They sat silent for a moment In the sun. Then an older man said briefly, "We were all afraid . . . . . . . . But what of hate? Did no one come because of hate?"

"Yes—I"— They looked at this man Curiously, But he added nothing, And no one questioned.

A fresh-faced boy spoke modestly; "Our family are all Army people— So, of course— And it's all over now. We got through. But it was a near thing— What?"