from a diary dated 25 december, 1914...
By Mary Rose Corkery '18
The Western Front is wild--
The Western Front is raw
Every day screams of hope exiled--
Every night howls with paranoia.
I used to play in the mud--
As a child of three or four
Never did my mind deliver--
Premonitions of mud and war.
One fateful dawn of December--
I awoke to a sight of fear
My friend, my brother, my ally--
Mouthing footsteps very clear.
Maybe my silent night is upon me—
And only weapons will sing their carols
From this trench I am ready to forever flee--
Until one clear call from the distance rings:
[Vivre et laisser vivre,
Live and let live.
- 12. 25. 1914.