Sunday (16 June 1918)

Last day at Chateau – huge white clouds on a pure cobalt – birds practising solos and duets – trees sunning themselves in silent attention.  The drone of aircraft is audible everywhere and they and a random gun alone remind one of the continuance of hostilities.  It is a good day on which to stop the war, and I’m wondering how I can manage it, other than by crossing the lines and demanding a personal interview with the Kaiser.

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