A Hospital Alone Shows What

This Book Is To Be Neither An Accusation Nor A Confession, And Least Of All An Adventure, For Death Is Not An Adventure To Those Who Stand Face To Face With It. It Will Try Simply To Tell Of A Generation Of Men Who, Even Though They May Have Escaped Shells, Were Destroyed By The War.

Suddenly I Become Filled With A Consuming Impatience To Be Gone.

The Soldier Is On Friendlier Terms Than Other Men With His Stomach And Intestines. Three-quarters Of His Vocabulary Is Derived From These Regions, And They Give An Intimate Flavour To Expressions Of His Greatest Joy As Well As Of His Deepest Indignation. It Is Impossible To Express Oneself In Any Other Way So Clearly And Pithily. Our Families And Our Teachers Will Be Shocked When We Go Home, But Here It Is The Universal Language.

But Now, For The First Time, I See You Are A Man Like Me. I Thought Of Your Hand-grenades, Of Your Bayonet, Of Your Rifle; Now I See Your Wife And Your Face And Our Fellowship. Forgive Me, Comrade. We Always See It Too Late. Why Do They Never Tell Us That You Are Poor Devils Like Us, That Your Mothers Are Just As Anxious As Ours, And That We Have The Same Fear Of Death, And The Same Dying And The Same Agony - Forgive Me, Comrade; How Could You Be My Enemy?

-why Does A Man Live? -in Order To Think About It.