I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood for vengeance for desolation. War is hell.
We are willing enough to praise freedom when she is safely tucked away in the past and cannot be a nuisance. In the present amidst dangers whose outcome we cannot foresee we get nervous about her and admit censorship.
