Good-bye, Mr. Chips by James Hilton — Read

And once, on a night of full moonlight, the air-raid warning was given while Chips was taking his lower fourth in Latin. The guns began almost instantly, and, as there was plenty of shrapnel falling about outside, it seemed to Chips that they might just as well stay where they were, on the ground floor of School House. It was pretty solidly built and made as good a dugout as Brookfield could offer; and as for a direct hit, well, they could not expect to survive that, wherever they were.

So he went on with his Latin, speaking a little louder amid the reverberating crashes of the guns and the shrill whine of anti- aircraft shells. Some of the boys were nervous; few were able to be attentive. He said, gently: "It may possibly seem to you, Robertson--at this particular moment in the world's history--umph-- that the affairs of Caesar in Gaul some two thousand years ago--are-- umph--of somewhat secondary importance--and that--umph--the irregular conjugation of the verb tollo is--umph--even less important still. But believe me--umph--my dear Robertson--that is not really the case." Just then there came a particularly loud explosion--quite near. "You cannot--umph--judge the importance of things--umph--by the noise they make. Oh dear me, no." A little chuckle. "And these things--umph--that have mattered--for thousands of years--are not going to be--snuffed out--because some stink merchant--in his laboratory--invents a new kind of mischief." Titters of nervous laughter; for Buffles, the pale, lean, and medically unfit science master, was nicknamed the Stink Merchant. Another explosion--nearer still. "Let us--um--resume our work. If it is fate that we are soon to be--umph--interrupted, let us be found employing ourselves in something--umph--really appropriate. Is there anyone who will volunteer to construe?"