In risking their legs or arms, or life itself, they see nothing heroic, dramatic, or extraordinary.

They talk of the war as they would of a cricket-match or a day in the hunting-field.

If things are going wrong they do not whine or blame, nor when fortune smiles are they unduly jubilant.

And they are so appallingly honest and frank.
A piece of shrapnel had broken the arm of one of them, and we were helping him to cut up his food and pour out his Scotch and soda.
Instead of making a hero or a martyr of himself, he said confidingly: "You know, I had no right to be hit.

If I had been minding my own business I wouldn't have been hit.