At this point in the novel, and especially in his dealings
with the ambulance drivers, Henry comes off as rather stoic. His
engagement with the men as they discuss victory and defeat seems
academic rather than passionate; he appears indifferent to the sense
of loss, fear, and anger that fuels the Italians’ arguments, indifferent
even to whether he lives or dies. In this context, his recurring
thoughts of, and increasing feeling for, Catherine are somewhat
curious. The notion of visiting her interrupts his daydreaming about
the war the night before he leaves for the front. In a very beautiful,
sensuous passage, Henry imagines himself and Catherine stealing
away to a hotel, where she pretends that he is her dead lover: “we
would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a
sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all
night in the hot night in Milan.” Even though his attachment to
Catherine is, at this point, casual, Henry is beginning to develop
feelings that extend beyond the game he plays with her. The sorrow
that he feels when Helen Ferguson announces that Catherine is sick
and cannot see him surprises him and hints at the depth of feeling,
commitment, and attachment of which this usually stoic soldier is
capable.
