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To My Fallen Comrades
3 March 1945
There is a certain agony of heart We soldiers know when we look on our dead. It is not pity, but a thing apart, A sympathy of helpless hurt, instead.
We do not think of them as dead in vain, In sober truth we hardly think at all. Why should we? When the big guns speak again The laws of Chance will judge, and Reason fall.
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