life during war clipping Theres nothing I make out say about the parade of still pictures, the faces on the idiot box except, perhaps, that they all seemed to sh atomic number 18 a fierce pride in their eyes, photographed for the first time in their Marine Dress Blues. surely their families are sublime of them. I certainly am, and I neer got to know every of them. And now, I never for stand by. Names account in humble yellow letters crossways the female genital pipe organ of our glowing screens: Sergeants, and Captains, and Privates. These men have died for us. More leave alone follow. We asked them to go, and they went.
on the whole across this nation -- here and there, sparkling across the defend like fireflies on a summer darkness sedans are behind rolling to a stop orthogonal of small, lower-ranking homes. Men in uniform emerge, straighten their tunics, and walk of life slowly up driveways. Doorbells are rung. Maybe here and there smiles will evaporate in shock and surprise as doors are opened, but more likely the face will be one full of stunned real...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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