Captain Gray's journal

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An unusual static and void nocturnal silence hovered above Beaumont Hamel. Sitting in his dugout, Captain Gray couldn't find any suitable words to send to his wife. His instincts told him that to write a letter would be equivalent to saying farewell, an idea he deplored as it bordered with superstition. Gray's eyelids were heavy, but no slumber seemed to follow this natural sign of exhaustion. With his brain filled with confused angry thoughts he opened his journal. Seeing the blank page, the monotonous parallel lines made the thoughts in his mind seem grotesque, exaggerated and monstrous! Eventually they twisted themselves into acceptable words that came streaming down onto the page like dark water percolating through a stoved ship's side.

 Gray wrote;

 “Constant vigilance is the key to survive this War. Tommorow we shall attack, or rather poke the hundred headed Ladon with a twig. I know I mustn't break down, for as a commanding officer I must be an example to my men. I shall grit my teeth and be with them until my time comes. The men must must believe in their officers and have reason to do so. It has been agreed that if I am to fall, Wraysford will take over my platoon. I am glad about this arrangement; I like and trust that laddie, despite the fact that I find him difficult to read. He didn't back out when he was given the chance, now I am convinced he'll manage this.

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  Our lives depend on strategies, on strategies and also irresponsible and embarrasingly well educated generals, who still seem to think of this slaughter as of a welcome release from a decadent existance. The 29th Division are waiting for us and I fail to see the point of this codswallop about the wire being cut, when it isn't!?!  One would think we'd have the advantage of the night on our side at least, but no! A generation of young men, to which I belong.  must march in daylight like slow approaching targets up hill oblivious to the suicide they are commiting. ...

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