Page:For remembrance, soldier poets who have fallen in the war, Adcock, 1920.djvu/64

42 pretended to myself for a bit that I liked it, but it was no good, it only made me careless and unwatchful and self-absorbed; but when one acknowledged to oneself that it was beastly, one became all right again, and cool.' Again, writing from the front of the hard times he was enduring, 'It is all the best of fun,' he said. 'I have never, never felt so well, or so happy, or enjoyed anything so much. The fighting excitement vitalises everything, every sight and word and action.'

There are unforgettable stories of his gallantry on the day when he was mortally wounded. He volunteered to carry a message through to the front line, and got there and back under heavy fire. As he rejoined his General on a hill, he was struck in the head by a shell splinter, and said as he lay bleeding, 'Go down, sir, don't bother about me. I 'm done.' The General helped to carry him down, and Grenfell told a brother officer, 'Do you know, I think I shall die,' and being contradicted said quietly, 'Well, you see if I don't!' At the dressing-station he