The composition "Lest We Forget" whose author cringes behind the alias of Rollo, must not pass unchallenged. Disgust fades into contempt and contempt into sneer pity for the man who can use the words "Lost We forget" - pregnant as they are with the memories of sacrifice and devotion of a gallant host, who did not hesitate to appease and propitiate the hideous war-god of Imperial Germany with the supremo offering of their lives.

Their sacrifice may have been blind - "the million sightless eyes that lie beneath our cenotaphs" have paid dearly for that blindness. Grant them, however, that their sacrifice was sincere - tragically sincere - the long white fields of little crosses that span Messines Ridges give silent witness to that.

Rollo and his confreres would still have us believe, that this present conflict is a gigantic capitalist intrigue, a gargantuan game of political chess with the working class as pawns. Seventy years of German militarism, tyranny and conquest have not sufficed to convince Rollo that this war is no more political fabrication. Ideologies evolve slowly. In Germany, Bismarck's doctrines of force are only just [unclear: beginning] to bear their full fruit today in Hitler's bid for world domination. This war is a death-struggle between two conflicting ideal [gap — reason: illegible].

How long must we [unclear: tol] these [unclear: intellectual] scorpions, who, not content with hurling their [unclear: exploded] myths at our heads, violate the art of poetry with their bawling [unclear: cacophanies] and inane jargon?