. . . I hate war! And I cannot see sending the boys with whom I have grown up through a depression that in itself was one of the most defeating periods of history in which to reach maturity now giving anything they have managed to achieve to the hollow word, "Freedom." But more and more I am feeling like a lonely voice crying against something so big that the futility of struggle is totally accentuated by a maze of knitting needles for the British and pennies for the Greeks. . . .
. . ....