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Conger Reynolds correspondence, July 1918
1918-07-27 Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 2
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serve who sit and wait" put it too mild. I've often read about the strain, the awful gait of action. Well, give it to me in place of merely sitting fast and waiting for something to be--gin happening to change the cast of life upon a quiet front. Once in awhile I hear the thump--thump-thump of guns that send a blunt denial of too quick assump--tion war perchance has stopped. But, pooh! They're only shooting "daily hate." No battle there. They'll kill a few unwary Huns, perhaps obliterate a trench, blow up a dugout, then an ammunition dump; but yet the enemy won't budge. And when, tonight, reports come in, I'll bet they say that in Lorraine the day was "very calm." You see, the things that count are scores of miles away -- the ceaseless roar, the fleets on wings, the bursting bombs, the bayonet charge, the moving masses pushing on to win us victory in large. Let's change the subject just for fun. Suppose you tell me how you are and what you're doing to onspeed the time I'm kept so very far away from you. It's tough, indeed, I find, to have to go without a single chance to thump your nose or tell the barber all about my recent family joys and woes. I want to hear your dog-voice bark, "Oh, come on Steve, please do." I'd even like another mark like one you left before you flew the coop at Washington. I'd like to take you to the Powhatan and dine beside you.
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serve who sit and wait" put it too mild. I've often read about the strain, the awful gait of action. Well, give it to me in place of merely sitting fast and waiting for something to be--gin happening to change the cast of life upon a quiet front. Once in awhile I hear the thump--thump-thump of guns that send a blunt denial of too quick assump--tion war perchance has stopped. But, pooh! They're only shooting "daily hate." No battle there. They'll kill a few unwary Huns, perhaps obliterate a trench, blow up a dugout, then an ammunition dump; but yet the enemy won't budge. And when, tonight, reports come in, I'll bet they say that in Lorraine the day was "very calm." You see, the things that count are scores of miles away -- the ceaseless roar, the fleets on wings, the bursting bombs, the bayonet charge, the moving masses pushing on to win us victory in large. Let's change the subject just for fun. Suppose you tell me how you are and what you're doing to onspeed the time I'm kept so very far away from you. It's tough, indeed, I find, to have to go without a single chance to thump your nose or tell the barber all about my recent family joys and woes. I want to hear your dog-voice bark, "Oh, come on Steve, please do." I'd even like another mark like one you left before you flew the coop at Washington. I'd like to take you to the Powhatan and dine beside you.
World War I Diaries and Letters
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