James Lusk, James Lusk: Letters & Memories
“ It is Christmas Eve once more, and I have just come back from wading through the mud and water of front line trenches. I am tired and wet and dirty, and would that the men of strife would cease their noise and hear the Angels sing. But we must keep up our hearts. One gets sick to death sometimes of it all, but still it goes on and on, and we somehow live or dream through it. The night is clear with a bright moon, and it is dry at the moment. ”
