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“The days of our lives are quickly forgotten. War days are vivid, protracted, indelible. We are as moths who singe our wings and still fly back into the flame. The soldier exists in a private hell half deaf and half blinded by poisonous fumes.” — Clifford Thurlow
The days of our lives are quickly forgotten. War days are vivid, protracted, indelible. We are as moths who singe our wings and still fly back into the flame. The soldier exists in a private hell half deaf and half blinded by poisonous fumes.