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a deeper desire to enter into this vaste troubled sea, a longing far more real than ever before to be part of so big and disastrous [[strikethrough]] an [[/strikethrough]] a horror.  My enthusiasm has in no way flagged, my desire to [[underline] do [[/underline]] myself has not diminished.  In me still burns the flame of action, or want to participate.  I want to see it through.  I want to get deeper into it.  I have so far only skimmed the surface of the great depths.

The thought that perhaps strikes me most of all is the ease with which one becomes used to sights and experiences which one would have supposed would go on striking surprise or horror into me.  In a few days one no longer looks at continual streams of Red Cross ambulances, soldiers on their way to the front are always of interest but they do not seem unusual, dressings of horrible wounds are sad but it seems as if one had seen them forever.

"Ravitaillement" one looks at as at taxicabs and so on.  The same way that the thought of danger [[strikethrough]] is only [[/strikethrough]] becomes nil.  Darkened London waiting for its bombs, the searchlights of Paris hunting for aeroplanes, the battleships accompanying steamers