One Of The Parodoxes Of War Is

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

War Makes Strange Giant Creatures Out Of Us Little Routine Men Who Inhabit The Earth.

All The Rest Of Us - You And Me And Even The Thousands Of Soldiers Behind The Lines In Africa - We Want Terribly Yet Only Academically For The War To Get Over.

For A Lifetime I Had Bathed With Becoming Regularity, And Thought The World Would Come To An End Unless I Changed My Socks Every Day. But In Africa I Sometimes Went Without A Bath For Two Months, And I Went Two Weeks At A Time Without Even Changing My Socks. Oddly Enough, It Didn't Seem To Make Much Difference.

Someday When Peace Has Returned To This Odd World I Want To Come To London Again And Stand On A Certain Balcony On A Moonlit Night And Look Down Upon The Peaceful Silver Curve Of The Thames With Its Dark Bridges.