Page:War's dark frame (IA warsdarkframe00camp).pdf/37

Rh vulgar patrons of the most blatant hotels. Khaki was the colour note by day and by night. Those wearing it went about with women soberly dressed. And in nearly every bravely smiling face you caught an appreciation of imminence. The eyes of soldiers and the eyes of wives, sweethearts, and relatives seemed strained to regard an unknown and melancholy prospect.

In a sense, you felt yourself an intruder. Civilian clothing was an anachronism in London. You realised that the soldier was responsible for this city, crowded and a trifle unreal. You wondered if all of England was like this. You felt that you must see the country districts.

For this excursion an American acquaintance and I took advantage of one of the bank holidays. We drove first of all to Cambridge. Even on the road we were taught that rural England was more thoroughly transformed than the metropolis. We passed aviation instruction grounds. We saw practice observation balloons in the air unwieldy, misshapen objects, carrying boys ambitious to make themselves targets for German anti-aircraft guns. Transport trains rumbled by. In one or two villages we saw artillery parked. Khaki clad figures paced the sidewalks or strolled among the fields. All England, you felt, was in brown.