Anne Putnam Sanford, Armistice Day (1927)
“ There, stretched upon the huge cross, every shred of clothing torn from his body by the bursting shell, lay the dead Christus of Oberfells, his arms extended upon the beam, a red flood flowing from his side, the pierced palms near the cruel nails where Christ's had been. The saints stood by unharmed and He still gazed where He, Himself, had hung in agony. The cries of dying men rent the air, the living clung together on their knees, my mate and I were kneeling side by side. He threw his arms about me, trembling. "It is mankind!" ”
