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Frozen to the bone, they could but wait. Five thousand men, knowing not their fate. At 4.45 before the dawn, all heard the dreaded whistles shrill. "1000 yards" they said, "Just a stroll up the hill."  
Moles of Misfortune By Ben Fitzgerald   Darkness and light all at once, The faces of many and yet few, But who am I to judge our fate.  
O la vittoria , o tutti accoppati By A.R.T   In the alps turmoil erupts As the reich makes its move But the arditi met the foe
         Gallipoli By A.R.T   The sky burns as the ottomans prepare For allied advance, hundreds of thousends charge Up the hill like teddy roosevelt
The constant rocking.Back and forth. He wanted to follow the call of the whistle:‘up and over’ boys.But his gaze was lost in the blackness.His breath rasped and hushed by whimpers. 
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