Strange Meeting

A gust of wind blew the tent flap open, blew rain inside.
'It's going to be bloody wet and bloody cold,' Hilliard said looking down at his groundsheet. They ought to finish their sleep, though he had no idea of the time.
Barton let his arm drop, and moved a pace away. He said, 'I love you, John.'
Hilliard looked at him. 'Yes.' He was amazed at himself. That it was so easy.
'Yes.'

'It's the other which is the real luck- what we have. Thats another matter altogether. Things don't happen like this often in a lifetime.'
'Have you- do you have other friends who- is it the same with anyone else?'
'No.'
Hilliard felt a rush of joy and his mouth was filled up with the words he wanted to say, his head rang with them and he could say nothing.

'You've been here before then?'
'No.' But then he thought that that was not true. he had been here, he had spent hours here with Barton, as they had talked in the apple loft and the tents and dugouts and billets, he could walk down the lane and paths for miles around. He knew it.

Susan Hill- Strange Meeting

By far the best war novel I have read so far. The simplicity of love between Barton and Hilliard is enough to make me choke up just thinking about it. Real human love.
I miss my friends.