In Memoriam

by Alice Winn

“You should have seen what a state I was in, the first time I heard one of them laugh. It’s hard to want to kill someone once you’ve heard that.”

You’re squandering your years as if they’re limitless.

“Gas,” muttered someone. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was outlawed at the Hague Convention,” I said. I actually said that. I actually believed that the principles of our civilisation, our civilisation that has developed further than any other in the history of the world, giving us telephones and trains and flying, for God’s sake, we can fly, I thought, surely such a civilisation, that prides itself on conquering the beast in man and seeks only to bend towards beauty and prosperity, surely, surely, surely, it would not shatter in such a vile and disgusting way. The Hague Convention sought to make war more humane. We had reached a point in history where we believed it was possible to make war humane.

I stood on the most God-forsaken patch of earth I hope ever exists and I thought: I wonder how Elly is.

“How much has he changed?” “Yes.”

Tired. A new word ought to be invented, if this was tired.

In the hypermasculine atmosphere of war, they were not overly concerned with manliness.

No animal on earth would have suffered it. No creature would walk so knowingly, so hopelessly, into the jaws of death.

I’m sorry, people said, and then they had cleared their conscience, and Ellwood was left with the memories.

Ellwood had to turn away, because it was painful to look at something so lovely without knowing if he would be allowed to keep it.