ctorian era. While reading The Young British Soldier one can perfectly picture a group of such men belting out the words of the song over mugs of beer:
             When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
             'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
             An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
             Ere 'e fit for to serve as a soldier,
             Here Kipling echoes the fatalistic humor that seems to infect every soldier in every war. More fatalism and the unwillingness to speak directly of the horrors of battle surface in The Widow's Party:
             ...For half my comp'ny's laying still
             ...We broke a King and we built a road--
             A courthouse stands where the regiment goed.
             ...