Dear Comrade

Like most people, I’ve never liked wars rather anything that has to do with them. They bring the worst in us, anything that makes you want to kill someone without any personal grudge against that individual cannot be right.  When men are made to fight and specially without a genuine cause makes them do things that are not imaginable under normal peace time. I think the best explanation of war and it’s evil for me comes from a paragraph of “All Quiet of the western front”

“Comrade, I did not want to kill you. If you jumped here again, I would not do it, if you would be sensible too. But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind and calls forth its appropriate response. It was the abstraction I  stabbed. But Now, for the first time, I see you a man like me. I thought if your hand-grenade, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always  see it too late. Why do they never tell us that’s you are poor devils like us, that’s your mothers are just as anxious as yours,  and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony? — forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy? If we threw away these rifles and his uniform you could bey brother just like Kat and Albert. Take twenty years of my life , comrade and stand up — take me , for I do lot know what I can even attempt to do with it now”

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