What if I can be but one of the little drops
of Water or little grains of Sand? I am ready to rise like a
lioness to my country's call and would, if permitted and not
considered imodest by my Familey, put on the clothing of the
Other Sex and go into the trenches.
What can I do?
It is strange to be going home in this manner, thinking of
Duty and not of boys and young men. Usualy when about to return
to my Familey I think of Clothes and _affairs de couer_, because
at school there is nothing much of either except on Friday
evenings. But now all is changed. All my friends of the Other
Sex will have roused to the defense of their Country, and will
be away.
And I to must do my part, or bit, as the English say.
But what? Oh what?
APRIL 10TH. I am writing this in the Train, which accounts
for poor writing, etcetera. But I cannot wait for I now see a
way to help my Country.
The way I thought of it was this:
I had been sitting in deep thought, and although returning
to my Familey was feeling sad at the idea of my Country at war
and I not helping. Because what could I do, alone and unarmed?
What was my strength against that of the German Army? A trifle
light as air!
It was at this point in my pain and feeling of being
utterly useless, that a young man in the next seat asked if he
might close the Window, owing to Soot and having no other coller
with him.
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