Page 22 - The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

Chapter 1

BILL’S STORY

ar fever ran high in the New England town
Wto which we new, young officers from Platts-
burg were assigned, and we were flattered when the
first citizens took us to their homes, making us feel
heroic. Here was love, applause, war; moments sub-
lime with intervals hilarious. I was part of life at last,
and in the midst of the excitement I discovered liquor.
I forgot the strong warnings and the prejudices of my
people concerning drink. In time we sailed for “Over
There.’’ I was very lonely and again turned to alcohol.
We landed in England. I visited Winchester Cathe-
dral. Much moved, I wandered outside. My attention
was caught by a doggerel on an old tombstone:
“Here lies a Hampshire Grenadier
Who caught his death
Drinking cold small beer.
A good soldier is ne’er forgot
Whether he dieth by musket
Or by pot.”

Ominous warning—which I failed to heed.
Twenty-two, and a veteran of foreign wars, I went
home at last. I fancied myself a leader, for had not the
men of my battery given me a special token of appre-
ciation? My talent for leadership, I imagined, would
place me at the head of vast enterprises which I would
manage with the utmost assurance.
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