[Prologue] This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they many have escaped its shells, were destroyed by the war. [Bombardment in the Graveyard] The earth bursts before us. It rains clods. I feel a smack. My sleeve is torn away by a splinter. I shut my fist. No pain. Still that does not reassure me: wounds don’t hurt till afterwards. I feel the arm all over. It is grazed but sound. Now a crack on the skull, I begin to lose consciousness. Like lightning the thought comes to me: Don’t faint, sink down in the black broth and immediately come up to the top again. A splinter slashes into my helmet, but has traveled so far that it does not go through. I wipe the mud out of my eyes. A hole is torn up in front of me. Shells hardly ever land in the same hole twice, I’ll get into it. With one bound I fling myself down and lie on the earth as flat as a fish; there it whistles again, quickly I crouch together, claw for cover, feel something on the left, shove in beside it, it gives way, I groan, the earth leaps, the blast thunders in my ears, I creep under the yielding thing, cover myself with it, draw it over me, it is wood, cloth, cover, cover, miserable cover against the whizzing splinters. I open my eyes—my fingers grasp a sleeve, an arm. A wounded man? I yell to him—no answer—a dead man. My hand gropes farther, splinters of wood—now I remember again that we are lying in a graveyard. But the shelling is stronger than everything. It wipes out the sensibilities, I merely crawl still deeper into the coffin, it should protect me, and especially as Death himself lies in it too. [70-71] [On Leave] I imagined leave would be different from this. Indeed, it was different a year ago. It is I of course that have changed in the interval. There lies a gulf between that time and to-day. At that time I still knew nothing about the war, we had been only in quiet sectors. But now I see that I have been crushed without knowing it. I find I do not belong here any more, it is a foreign world. Some of these people ask questions, some ask no questions, but one can see that they are quite confident they know all about it; they often say so with their air of comprehension, so there is no point in discussing it. They make up a picture of it for themselves. I prefer to be alone, so that no one troubles me. For they all come back to the same thing, how badly it goes and how well it goes; one thinks it is this way, another that; and yet they are always absorbed in the things that go to make up their own existence. Formerly I lived in just the same way myself, but now I feel no contact here any longer.
This excerpt describes the:
progressive reforms of the early 1900s.
decision made by President Wilson to send U.S. troops to Europe.
lasting legacy of the U.S. Civil War.
None of these choices are correct.
horrors of trench warfare in World War I.
Answers
Answer:
Based on the passage, how did the existence of Navajo sandstone lead to the hanging gardens? The existence of Navajo sandstone allowed water to flow through its pores, until it reached a different type of stone, moved horizontally, and came out the side of the cliff. This water was necessary for the plants to survive, leading to the hanging gardens. The existence of Navajo sandstone led to a dry, hot climate, in which plants could not grow, except those used in hanging gardens. This dry, hot climate made it difficult for many species of plants to grow, resulting in locals planting the hanging gardens. The existence of Navajo sandstone led to the creation of many holes with soil, which hanging gardens use to grow up toward the sun. These holes with soil were used by locals to plant lush hanging gardens that visitors could help maintain when they visited. The existence of Navajo sandstone showed that Native Americans used to dwell in the area by building their houses in the cliffs. In order to decorate their homes, the Native Americans planted many different types of plants in the walls near the water.