There Is No Sense In The Struggle,

Our Artillery... The Germans Feared It Almost More Than Anything We Had.

For Me War Has Become A Flat, Black Depression Without Highlights, A Revulsion Of The Mind And An Exhaustion Of The Spirit.

The Front-line Soldier Wants It To Be Got Over By The Physical Process Of His Destroying Enough Germans To End It. He Is Truly At War. The Rest Of Us, No Matter How Hard We Work, Are Not.

Some Day I'd Like To Cover A War In A Country As Ugly As War Itself.

The Closest Fires Were Near Enough For Us To Hear The Crackling Flames And The Yells Of Firemen. Little Fires Grew Into Big Ones Even As We Watched. Big Ones Died Down Under The Firemen's Valor Only To Break Out Again Later.