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Sowce: Licutenant Henry, in Emest Heeinzway, A Farewselito Ars. 1979
was aways canbarrassed by the words sacred, glorious,” and sacrifice.”… . . We bad beard them, sometimes standing in the raia alesost out of carsbot, so that cely the ssouted words caros throogh, aod had read them, on prostmaloos what were slapoed up by billposters over ober proclamatioas, now for a loos tiese, and I and seco pothing sacred, and the thines that were slopious had no slory asd the sacrifices were like the ssockyard at Caseaso if bothing was ooos to ty useat except bury it libere were toasy words that you could bot stand to bear and finally oaly the names of places bad dignity. … Abstract words soch as “clory,”bocor, villages, the cumber of roads, the names of rivers.
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Source: Makolm Cowley, Exile’s Return, autobiography published in 1934.
We were physically uprooted … placked froes our own soil. .. and dumped, scattered among strange people…. We were fed, lodged, cloched by strangers, commanded by strangers. … Then, as soddealy as it began for us, the war eoded.
Wbea we first beard of the Armistice we felt a sease of relief too deep to express. …. We had coens through, we were still alive, and nobody wold be killed tomorrow. The composite fatherland for which we had fought and in which some of us Believed–France, Italy, the Allies, our English bonelasd, democracy, the self-determination of small sations dad triumphed. We dasced in the streets … Bat slowly, as the days went by, the intoxication passed, and the tears of joy. it appeared that our composite fatberiand was dissolving into quarreling statessoco and oil and steel magnates
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