Couldn't write last night: the only thing was to try and forget it all.
I am for permanent duty on No--Ambulance Train (equipped) which goes up to the Front, to the nearest point on the rail to the fighting line. Did you ever know such luck?
they'd had a hot time, but were full of grit.
I've never hated the sound of guns so much; they are almost unbearable.
One could not, he said, continually reflect upon the material and spiritual waste involved whenever that highly trained product, a man in the prime of life, was instantaneously killed by a stray bullet, or life at the front would be one long misery.
I had not yet realised-as I was later to realise through my own mental surrender-that only a process of complete adaptation, blotting out tastes and talents and even memories, made life sufferable for someone face to face with war at its worst.
Personally, after seeing some of the dreadful things I have to see here, I feel I shall never be the same person again, and wonder if, when the War does end, I shall have forgotten how to laugh. The other day I did involuntarily laugh at something and it felt quite strange.
"I had no time to wonder whether I was going to do things right or not," I noted; "they simply had to be done right."
personally I would rather suffer every so much in my work than become indifferent to pain. I don't mind anything really so long as I don't lose my personality-or even have it temporarily extinguished.
To me it is strange that I take this death-sad as it makes me feel-so much as a matter of course when only a short time ago the idea of death made me shudder and filled me with horror and fear.