13 OCTOBER 1944, Page 14

The Soldier Woodman I got to know one oldish woodman

quite well. He was a glassy-eyed soldier and his spats never met the ends of his trousers. One day he approached me rather sheepishly, and spoke over his shoulder as though ready for flight. He was so em- barrassed that his glassy eyes lost even their small resemblance of con- centration. He said he understood that I was " in the writing way," a phrase that suggests a fecundity the writer all too seldom feels. He then went on to remark about the oddity of this, because he had once known another chap in the same way of life; in fact, had served under him in the Great War and had won the M.M. under him. And then he named one of the most famous of our poets who is now also a don. The out- come of this confidence was an exchange of letters between the old com- rades, the woodman and the poet. This is only one example of the discoveries and recognitions which have made me grateful for the time spent in the Home Guard. I have becpme a member of the countryside here, and wherever I go I am at once in friendly contact with fellows whom it would have been possible otherwise to meet only across a barrier of unfamiliarity in trade, training, outlook, education and knowledge.