The Coffin, It Shall Protect Me, Though

The Storm Lashes Us, Out Of The Confusion Of Grey And Yellow The Hail Of Splinters Whips Forth The Childlike Cries Of The Wounded, And In The Night Shattered Life Groans Painfully Into Silence. Our Hands Are Earth, Our Bodies Clay And Our Eyes Pools Of Rain. We Do Not Know Whether We Are Still Alive.

My Rage Outweighs My Shame, As Always Happens When One Is Really Ashamed And Knows He Ought To Be.

In Any Case, The Bayonet Isn't As Important As It Used To Be. It's More Usual Now To Go Into The Attack With Hand-grenades And Your Entrenching Tool. The Sharpened Spade Is A Lighter And More Versatile Weapon - Not Only Can You Get A Man Under The Chin, But More To The Point, You Can Strike A Blow With A Lot More Force Behind It. That's Especially True If You Can Bring It Down Diagonally Between The Neck And The Shoulder, Because Then You Can Split Down As Far As The Chest. When You Put A Bayonet In, It Can Stick, And You Have To Give The Other Man A Hefty Kick In The Guts To Get It Out.

Little By Little Things Began To Assume A New Aspect. The Sense Of Insecurity Vanished, Words Came Of Themselves, I Was No Longer So Painfully Conscious Of Everything I Said. I Drank On And Felt The Great Soft Wave Approach And Embrace Me; The Dark Hour Began To Fill With Pictures And Stealthily The Noiseless Procession Of Dreams Appeared Again Superimposed On The Dreary, Grey Landscape Of Existence.

Never Do Anything Complicated When Something Simple Will Serve As Well. It's One Of The Most Important Secrets Of Living.