But I believe that down there in Australia they did
not dream of danger; that they were far from understanding the
meaning of the news the papers did print. They were so far away!
And then, you ken, it came upon us like a clap of thunder. One night
it began. There was war in Europe--real war. Germany had attacked
France and Russia. She was moving troops through Belgium. And every
Briton knew what that must mean. Would Britain be drawn in? There was
the question that was on every man's tongue.
"What do you think, son?" I asked John.
"I think we'll go in," he said. "And if we do, you know, Dad--they'll
send for me to come home at once. I'm on leave from the summer
training camp now to make this trip."
My boy, two years before, had joined the Territorial army. He was a
second lieutenant in a Territorial battalion of the Argyle and
Sutherland Highlanders. It was much as if he had been an officer in a
National Guard regiment in the United States. The territorial army
was not bound to serve abroad--but who could doubt that it would, and
gladly. As it did--to a man, to a man.
But it was a shock to me when John said that. I had not thought that
war, even if it came, could come home to us so close--and so soon.
Yet so it was. The next day was the fourth of August--my birthday.
And it was that day that Britain declared war upon Germany. We sat at
lunch in the hotel at Melbourne when the newsboys began to cry the
extras.
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