Afterword

In the sun-burnished August of 1914, as trains laden with excited recruits bound for the First World War wound their way through the Interior, young women in big hats and white summer dresses would make their way down to the station stops with baskets of cherries for the laughing, khaki-clad soldiers. Did those women imagine, then, that half those handsome young men would become casualties; that none would return unmarked in mind or spirit? The image lingers as a poignant metaphor. For, as the...

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