The Wrangell sentinel., 1942-01-02

of bombing from the Nazis. One sec ton of the town. formerly yielding millions in rent rolls are reduced to empty town lots. the letter states.
 The poem which follows, is writ ten as a parody to Poe's "The Ra- ven"
 was sitting, lonesome, musing Peace and policies perusing, Found them more and more cOnfus-
 ing
 As I oft had done before. While So quietly reposing Drifted gently into dozing, half a.
 wake and half supposing Heard a sound not heard before. Getting more awake in wonder,
 heard a sound like distant thun-
 der.
 Right outside my cottage door With a rather doubtful feeling, fear
 of what might be revealing, Called out in a voice appealing.
 Who is at my cottage door?" Are you friend or are you stranger? /?
 Is your life in any danger? My assistance to implore?" As the voice continued calling, I a.
 rose with thoughts appalling Fearsome at such noisy bawling, As
 walked across the floor. Wondered why, and who was calling.
 calling at my entrance door. As the shouting grew intenser, cal-
 led I loudly. No offense Sir. Your forgiveness I implore. l was
 half asleep and dreaming Could not understand the meaning,
 could not comprehend the mean
 ing,
 Of this shouting at my door. As I opened wide the portal such
 a fierce and frightful mortal Looking just as if he thought all rul-
 ing should be done by awe. Terrorism uphold the law. fear alone
 and nothing more. Cowed with fear I spoke most civil,
 looking at this thing of evil. Partly man and partly devil, looking 
 at this thing with awe. Who are you, and what your mis-
 sion in such martial like condition Whats your name, and why admis-
 sion, entrance to my cottage
 door?"
 I'm the God of War, he shouted,
 in a voice not to be doubted. All who disagree be routed, and des-
 troyed for evermOre. Wholesale slaughter by each nation,
 carried out with out cessation Tending towards extermination, such
 as never was before. Force, compulsion, martial law. This my lust and this my glory, ne-
 yer mind however gOry Force conscription, the old story . carried on as heretofore. Armaments and might compelling dread and fear in every dwelling, All the warmth of love expelling,
 What is love compared with
 war?
 Lust for power my main objective,
 terror making men subjective Wholesale slaughter most effective
 in this mighty game of war. Might alone and nothing more, hate
 and terror to the fore I uphold deaths sickle reaping,
 wives and mothers softly weep
 ing,
 Sons and husbands, still, and sleep
 ing. Sleep from which they wake
 no more.
 No more chance for undertaking,
 kindly deeds and words forsak-
 ing, Wounded hearts that come near breaking, weakly sob stuff I abhor, Sentiments which I deplore." Answered l in voice appealing, Are
 you quite devoid of feeling? Merciless in all your dealing. Can
 you call this Christian, law? -: While mankind in war sees. glory,
 might and armaments so gory, It will be the same old story, Peace no nearer than before: ..s Putting faith in armaments must re- suit in future war. & Get thee hence thou loathsome creature, horrible in form and fea, ture
 Nothing noble in thy nature, get
 thee hence outside my door" Going past I heard him mutteT, as fastened door and shutter These last words heard him utter,
 God made man, and man makes war" Man puts faith in martial law. Now I ask you, "are you willing to
 uphold this wholesale killing, Which ideals are you fulfilling
 Prince of Peace, or god of War7' There's better way of fighting hu-
 man wrongs instead of fighting. i Brotherhood and Peace uniting Charity and Christian law,