This week the war was a year old. Twelve months of anguish had trespassed on human hope. Young men with smiles had been struck down, boundaries had been swept aside as lightly as snow, loyalties had cringed and sickened, the whole world had learned to fear, suspect, hate. Among other things it had become plain that while Germans were without question the most meticulous, thorough, shrewd, methodical fighters in the world, Britons had dug down to the marrow of each British bone and to the ganglion of each British nerve, and demonstrated...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
