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[Page 214]

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To feel that the finger tips of death are not close thrust towards one through day and night

To fall to sleep with the full satisfaction of knowing that neither bomb nor shell will break in to shatter or to slay.

To see and feel and know all this is blessedness itself.

At first there is a strangeness about it all, which rather bears the resemblance of a dream.

The mind wonders how men and women and children can exist as they do, apparently quite unconscious of the war.

Does it matter to them that men are being broken and blown to pieces up there, that men are enduring maddening terror, suffering and fearing.

Yes the mind wonders in this manner for a while.

But not the mind of each

Then in a little while one fails to remember intensely. The scenes of up yonder become faint.

Resilient nature takes poise and finds temper for the recreation of her normal cheerfulness and desire for freedom from care

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