It Was A Melancholy Secret That Reality

No Soldier Outlives A Thousand Chances. But Every Soldier Believes In Chance And Trusts His Luck.

I Am Young, I Am Twenty Years Old; Yet I Know Nothing Of Life But Despair, Death, Fear, And Fatuous Superficiality Cast Over An Abyss Of Sorrow. I See How Peoples Are Set Against One Another, And In Silence, Unknowingly, Foolishly, Obediently, Innocently Slay One Another.

Yes, That's The Way They Think, These Hundred Thousand Kantoreks! Iron Youth! Youth! We Are None Of Us More Than Twenty Years Old. But Young? That Is Long Ago. We Are Old Folk.

We Want To Live At Any Price; So We Cannot Burden Ourselves With Feelings Which, Though They Might Be Ornamental Enough In Peace-time, Would Be Out Of Place Here.

Bombardment, Barrage, Curtain-fire, Mines, Gas, Tanks, Machine-guns, Hand-grenades - Words, Words, But They Hold The Horror Of The World.