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Curses and prayers surged up in my heart. How long was this to go on--
this massacre of youth, this agony of men? Was there no sanity left in
the world that could settle the argument by other means than this?
When we had taken that ridge to-morrow there would be another to take,
and another. And what then? Had we such endless reserves of men that
we could go on gaining ground at such a price? Was it to be
extermination on both sides? The end of civilization itself? General
Harington had said: "The enemy is still very strong. He has plenty of
reserves on hand and he is fighting hard. It won't be a walk-over to-
morrow."
As an onlooker I was overwhelmed by the full measure of all this
tragic drama. The vastness and the duration of its horror appalled me.
I went to my billet in an old monastery, and sat there in the
darkness, my window glimmering with the faint glow of distant shell-
flashes, and said, "O God, give us victory to-morrow, if that may help
us to the end." Then to bed, without undressing.


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