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Personal Memoirs & Diaries Books
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by:
Keith Henderson
LETTERS TO HELEN June 6, 1916. Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been to sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. And now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to write a letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most Sherlock...
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Arnold Bennett
I The Zone Of Paris From the balcony you look down upon massed and variegated tree- tops as though you were looking down upon a valley forest from a mountain height. Those trees, whose hidden trunks make alleys and squares, are rooted in the history of France. On the dusty gravel of the promenade which runs between the garden and the street a very young man and a girl, tiny figures, are playing with...
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John Cox
RUMOURS OF WAR It was 1938 and the Spanish civil war was still in progress; Germany was flexing her muscles having effected an Anschluss with Austria and having out-manoeuvred Britain and France over the matter of Czechoslovakia. It was obvious that a war was coming but Britain had allowed her forces and armaments to run down and was in no position to engage in one. At...
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William Orpen
CHAPTER I TO FRANCE (APRIL 1917) The boat was crowded. Khaki, everywhere khaki; lifebelts, rain and storm, everything soaked. Destroyers, churning through the waves, played strange games all round us. Some old-time Tommies, taking everything for granted, smoked and laughed and told funny stories. Others had the look of dumb animals in pain, going to what they knew only too well. The new hands for...
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I. It was an afternoon of the brilliancy known only to an afternoon of the American summer, and the water of the swift Piscataqua River glittered in the sun with a really incomparable brilliancy. But nothing could light up the great monster of a ship, painted the dismal lead-color which our White Squadrons put on with the outbreak of the war, and she lay sullen in the stream with a look of ponderous...
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by:
Henry Labouchere
PREFACE. The publishers of these letters have requested me to write a preface. In vain I have told them, that if prefaces have not gone out of date, the sooner they do, the better it will be for the public; in vain I have despairingly suggested that there must be something which would serve their purpose, kept in type at their printers, commencing, "At the request of—perhaps too...
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When he could stand it no longer, he fired a revolver up through the roof of his mouth, but he made a mess of it. The ball tore out his left eye, and then lodged somewhere under his skull, so they bundled him into an ambulance and carried him, cursing and screaming, to the nearest field hospital. The journey was made in double-quick time, over rough Belgian roads. To save his life, he must reach the...
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AUSTRALIA ON THE MARCH. BELMONT BATTLEFIELD. At two o'clock on the morning of Wednesday, the 6th of the month, the reveille sounded, and the Australians commenced their preparations for the march to join Methuen's army. By 4 a.m. the mounted rifles led the way out of camp, and the toilsome march over rough and rocky ground commenced. The country was terribly rough as we drove the transports...
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EASTWARD HO! Our Battalion of the Manchesters was typical of the old Territorial Force, whose memory has already faded in the glory of the greater Army created during the War, but whose services in the period between the retreat from Mons and the coming into action of "Kitchener's Men" claim national gratitude. Their earlier history hardly emerges from parochialism. Founded in 1859 and...
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by:
Conway Evans
We had been travelling for many weeks,—Lyra Nickerson, Katherine Schermerhorn, and I,—and after a beautiful tour through Germany, we arrived at Berlin on the evening of July 29, 1914. We had planned to spend a few days there preparatory to embarking at Hamburg in the Viktoria Luise for a northern cruise, and were looking forward to a short stay in the splendid capital. When we had secured our rooms...
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