Excerpt from Three Years War for Peace
To-day we are all asking the same question.
The miner as he flings down his pick, slings his coat over his shoulder and makes for home; the sweating steel-worker as he staggers back from the blaze of his furnaces; the girl with yellowing skin as she leaves her work in the high explosive factory; the city man opening his "War Final" in the suburban train at night; the mother at home, quivering with her dread of the ring at the door and the buff telegram of death - we all ask "How long?. When will the boys come home? When shall we win back to the days and ways of peace?"
And some ask further. "Why must we go on with the war? At home we have now been at the tension of time and overtime for years. And the boys at the Front and on the high seas. Is it worth the treasure of life that we are pouring out daily? Why not stop now?"
The spirit of the answer to that question came in a letter from a brother of mine at the Front. His whole life is bound up with his home - his wife and three splendid children. His longing to be back with them is on him all the time.
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