Gentleman, I Am Hardening On This Enterprise.

Thus I Got Into My Bones The Essential Structure Of The Ordinary British Sentence, Which Is A Noble Thing.

The Pictorial Battlefield Becomes A Sea Of Mud Mercifully Veiled By The Fog Of War.

We Are Stripped Bare By The Curse Of Plenty.

It Is Always Wise To Look Ahead, But Difficult To Look Further Than You Can See.

We Hoped To Land A Wild Cat That Would Tear Out The Bowels Of The Boche. Instead We Have Stranded A Vast Whale With Its Tail Flopping About In The Water.