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THE HORROR OF IT -- CAMERA RECORDS OF WAR'S GRUESOME GLORIES

SACRILEGE

DEVOTION

TO A NINE INCH GUN
by Anonymous

Whether your shell hits the target or not,
Your cost is Five Hundred Dollars a shot.
You thing of noise and flame and power,
We feed you a hundred barrels of flour
Each time you roar.  Your flame is fed
With twenty thousand loaves of bread.
Silence!  A million hungry men
Seek bread to fill their mouths again.

This poem came to the New York World office on a crumpled piece of paper.  The author's address was given as Fourth Bench, City Hall Park.

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CIVILIZATION (?)

CAUSE

EFFECT

THE IRON CROSS

THE WOODEN CROSS

"For every Victoria Cross won, there must be 10,000 wooden crosses won"

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