The boys in the office were, I fancy, a bit prejudiced against him before he arrived. It wasn't his fault, for he was a stranger to them all, but it got about that the dear old "chief" had decided to engage a real good Sunday-school boy. Someone had heard him say, or, more likely, thought it would be funny to imagine him saying, that the advent of such a boy might "improve the general tone" of the place. That, you'll admit, was pretty rough on Sydney Baxter-the boy in question. Now Sydney Baxter is not his real name, but this I can vouch is his true story. For the most part it is told exactly in his own words. You'll admit its truth when you have read it, for there isn't a line in it which will stretch your imagination a hair's breadth. It's the plain unvarnished tale of an average young man who joined the army because he considered it his duty-who fought for many months. That's why I am trying to record it; for if I tell it truly I shall have written the story of many thousands-I shall have written a page of the nation's history. And so I need not warn you at the beginning that this book does not end with a V.C. and cheering throngs. It may possibly end with wedding bells, but you will agree there's nothing out of the common about that-and a good job too.
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