Sullivan letter diary, 27 October 1915-9 October 1917 / Eugene Sullivan - Page 247
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[Page 247]
up till now my ferocious aspect, combined with my intelligent use of the half dozen french words which I have learnt, has kept them from molesting me or curtailing my liberty.
I can't blame these fictitious individuals because even without shaven polls an impartial observer would take all of us for lunatics. We live in muddy holes in the ground, and when we venture forth from these nests, confine our peregrinations to certain well defined drains and gutters cut in the earth.
Every now and again this colony of lunatics become possessed with a vicious lust for blood, and, armed with every available weapon of destruction, they sally forth from their holes in the ground, and rushing madly across the intervening space, hack and slash at a similar colony of fanatics. At other times they merely become vicious and hurl projectiles of iron &c. across at their opponents' trenches. At any time the sight of either one is sufficient to send the other into a frenzy and calls forth a hail of leaden bullets.
Our present abode is in what was once a large farm house. I can picture the aged land owner and his wife returning to reoccupy their possessions after the tide of war has swept on. First they see what was once their beautiful orchard - true the trees are still there some uprooted in the midst of shell holes, others standing on the brink with their roots bare but every where the ground is a mass of large hummocks and excavations, the latter filled with old tins and offal.
Then they turn their attention to the house. The tiled square in the front is nice and clean and undamaged, and this raises their