Our Artillery... The Germans Feared It Almost

Some Day I'd Like To Cover A War In A Country As Ugly As War Itself.

The Closest Fires Were Near Enough For Us To Hear The Crackling Flames And The Yells Of Firemen. Little Fires Grew Into Big Ones Even As We Watched. Big Ones Died Down Under The Firemen's Valor Only To Break Out Again Later.

Our Artillery... The Germans Feared It Almost More Than Anything We Had.

In Their Eyes As They Pass Is Not Hatred, Not Excitement, Not Despair, Not The Tonic Of Their Victory - There Is Just The Simple Expression Of Being Here As Though They Had Been Here Doing This Forever, And Nothing Else.

Someday When Peace Has Returned To This Odd World I Want To Come To London Again And Stand On A Certain Balcony On A Moonlit Night And Look Down Upon The Peaceful Silver Curve Of The Thames With Its Dark Bridges.