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A writing-man, who was an observer and recorder, like myself, does not sit in judgment. He has no right to judge. He merely cries out, "O God!... O God!" in remembrance of all that agony and that waste of splendid boys who loved life, and died. On Sunday, as I have told, the situation was full of danger.
She was brave pointed out the line of the German advance on the map and it was in a troop-train crowded with French soldiers and then burst into wild weeping, clasping the hand of an English writing-man so that her nails dug into his flesh. I remember her still. "Courage, maman! Courage, p'tite maman!" said the boy of eight. Through Amiens at night had come a French army in retreat.
It sounds like a romance, doesn't it? I think of turning it into a book, and getting it printed. But I am not a writing-man myself. They say my nephew has some aptitude that way I will get him to write it for me. But the best thing would be, if you would collaborate with him, because the conclusion of the story is not known to me so well."
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