War Diaries of a Little Englander.
Being the toy soldier, wargaming and kit bashing ramblings of a middle-aged Englishman.
'A gaping silken dragon,/Puffed by the wind, suffices us for God./We, not the City, are the Empire's soul:/A rotten tree lives only in its rind.'
Monday, 4 August 2014
Known Unto God...
'Looking back towards safety from the Auchonvilliers trenches, one daily saw a high crucifix at the end of the town, silvered and silhouetted in the sunset. Before we came away, this sad sculpture had fallen...'