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My dearest Mary, it began. I am so tired I can hardly write to you. I have spent what seems like all day censoring letters (there is a howitzer about 100 yds away firing every 2 minutes). The letters are heartrending in their attempt to express what they cannot. Some of the men are illiterate, others almost so. I know that they feel as much as we do, yet they do not have the words to express it. That is your job in the schoolroom to give us generations who can read and write well. They have...
开头是，我最亲爱的玛丽。我大累了，几乎无法给你写信了。我似乎一整天都在删剪信件 (100码外每两分钟便会有榴弹炮发射出来）。那些信令人心碎，因为他们试图用信表达出那些他们无法表达的东西。一些人根本不识字，其他人差不多也是。我知道他们和我们的感受一样，但是他们却无法用文字表达出来。你的教育工作的意义所在——培养一代代的学生们读书和写作的能力。他们已经……
The boy's eye skipped down the page and over the next. He read the last paragraph.
男孩跳过这一页，翻到下一页。他看到了最后一段。
Mary I love you as much as ever—more so that we cannot be together. I do not know which is worse, the hurt of this war or being separated from you. Give all my love to Breden and all at home.
玛丽，我一如既往地爱着你——爱得太深以致我们无法在一起。我不知道哪种情况更糟，是这场战争的伤害还是与你的分离。代我向布雷登和家里所有人献上所有的爱。
It was signed, scribbled with what he took to be John. He folded the paper carefully into its original creases and put it in the envelope. He opened another.
签名十分潦草，他觉得像是约翰。他小心翼翼地沿着原来的折痕叠起那封信，然后把它放入了信封。他打开了另一封。
