I was a pacifist before 1914, but this (I thought with other fools) was a war to end war. It did not make the prospect of being a soldier any more attractive. There was an extraordinary idea among the elderly that 'being a soldier' meant just no more than 'risking your life for your country', and that the man who was unwilling to do this was a coward, and that the man who was willing to do this was a hero. To people like, myself the Great Sacrifice was not the sacrifice of our lives but of our liberties. ......... As the result of an introduction from [Robert] Graves I was commissioned to the 4th Battalion of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, then stationed at Golden Hill in the Isle of Wight. ............ After six experimental weeks in which I learnt to be just a little, but not much, like a soldier, Daphne joined the married strength, and from then on, whenever it was possible, she shared the war with me. Through a variety of accidents I became Signalling Officer. After a nine weeks' course at the Southern Command Signalling School I really knew something about it, with the result that I was kept at home as an instructor until July 1916. ............. An orderly saluted and said the Colonel would like to see me in the Mess. I was for France in forty-eight hours. .......... The attack was timed for midnight. ......... We dashed. The Major went first - he was going to 're-organize the troops'; I went second, God knew why; the sergeant and the signaller came behind me, running out a line neatly and skilfully. No laddering now, no text-book stuff, it was just dropped anywhere. From time to time the Major flung himself down for a breather, and down we flopped and panted, wondering if he would get up again. To our relief each time he was alive, and so were we. We passed one of the signal-stations, no longer a station but a pancake of earth on top of a spread-eagled body; I had left him there that evening, saying, 'Well, you'll be comfortable here.' More rushes, more breathers, more bodies, we were in the front line. ....... We put in a week at Loos after the Somme, and were then due for a long rest. ..... I was now  in the War Office, wore the green tabs of Intelligence and wrote (horrible word) 'propaganda'. I had been marked for Home Service by a succession of medical boards, with the recommendation of 'secondary work'. ......... Demobilization  was not difficult. I rejoined the regiment at Crowborough, where, as a sedentary soldier, I not only lived comfortably at the Beacon Hotel, but found a comfortable stool in the demobilization office from which I could call attention to the hard case of Lieut. A.A. Milne.
from A.A. Milne's Autobiography - Its Too Late Now