There, conspicuous in the light of the conflagration, lay the dead body of a woman__he white face turned upward, the hands thrown out and clutched full of grass, the clothing deranged, the long dark hair in tangles and full of clotted blood. The greater part of the forehead was torn away, and from the jagged hole the brain protruded, overflowing the temple, a frothy mass of gray, crowned with clusters of crimson bubbles__he work of a shell.The child moved his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures. He uttered a series of inarticulate and indescribable cries__omething between the chattering of an ape and the gobbling of a turkey__ startling, soulless, unholy sound, the language of a devil. The child was a deaf mute.Then he stood motionless, with quivering lips, looking down upon the wreck.
I suppose there hasn__ been a single month since the war, in any trade you care to name, in which there weren__ more men than jobs. It__ brought a peculiar, ghastly feeling into life. It__ like on a sinking ship when there are nineteen survivors and fourteen lifebelts. But is there anything particularly modern in that, you say? Has it anything to do with the war? Well, it feels as if it had. The feeling that you__e got to be everlastingly fighting and hustling, that you__l never get anything unless you grab it from somebody else, that there__ always somebody after your job, that next month or the month after they__l be reducing staff and it__ you that__l get the bird _ that, I swear, didn__ exist in the old life before the war.
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I suppose there hasn__ been a single month since the war, in any trade you care to name, in which there weren__ more men than jobs. It__ brought a peculiar, ghastly feeling into life. It__ like on a sinking ship when there are nineteen survivors and fourteen lifebelts. But is there anything particularly modern in that, you say? Has it anything to do with the war? Well, it feels as if it had. The feeling that you__e got to be everlastingly fighting and hustling, that you__l never get anything unless you grab it from somebody else, that there__ always somebody after your job, that next month or the month after they__l be reducing staff and it__ you that__l get the bird _ that, I swear, didn__ exist in the old life before the war.
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I don't care a damn about men who are loyal to the people who pay them, to organizations...I don't think even my country means all that much. There are many countries in our blood, aren't there, but only one person. Would the world be in the mess it is if we were loyal to love and not to countries?
Priests might divide the world into good and bad. In battle there was strong and weak and nothing else.