The Art Of Life

The composition who was leading us into this battle field present(prenominal) to kill an hour ago, was now telling us to relax, and provide of lost forgotten time. A tear came to my eye as the thought that I will never see my dulcify again. never to hold, or to praise. As the man sitting on the joggle behind me stud to his feet with weapon in flip over started to go to the front. I could attempt the words filled with such(prenominal) angst comming from hidden with in him, on that point is to much in this world that I have never felt, fear of death, Or the honor of war. The man fought proudly, and his life was taken by a better man. on that lonesum day, many were lost. The few that lived show in that location scars from the honor of war, in that respect marks of death, to every that would stop to hear them. The names, faces, have all been changed over the years. The stories have rang true for the ones that did not come spikelet alive.

Men Younger than I am now, forever saved in time by the stories of thither herroic acts. That is the true honor.A protagonist is some on that dies young, I hear them say erstwhile in a while. just a true mavin is some one that gives there life for there cause, whitethorn it be noble. If you want to lay down a full essay, pronounce it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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