It does not satisfy any longing of mine. I have not got a lust for battle: no one who fights has a lust for battle. Editors of newspapers and people on General
Staffs, possibly also Cabinet Ministers, have lusts for battles, as long as they arrange the battle and talk about it afterwards--curse them!
The only thing I want is to be with Zoe. I want to live and spend long years with her, enjoying life--this life of which I have spent half already, and now perhaps it will be taken from me by some other man: some Englishman who doesn't really want to take my life, reckoned as an individual.
Around me in the darkness are the patrol boats, manned by the Englishmen who are seeking my life. Seeking it, not to gratify their private emotions, but because we are all in the whirlpool of War and cannot escape.
Like an avalanche, it seems to gather strength and speed as it rolls on, this War of Nations. The world must be mad! I cannot see how it can ever stop. England will never be defeated at sea. We shall conquer on land--then what?
An inconclusive peace.
Even if we smash this island Empire and gain the dominion of the world, how will it advantage me? I can see no way in which I can gain.
It would be said, if any one should read this: Gott! what a selfish point of view--he thinks only of his personal gain, not of his country.
But, confound it all, I reply, answer me this:
Do I exist for my country, or does my country exist for me?