On one of the early chaotic army days of World War II in France, I was combining the disagreeable tasks of eating and censoring letters home written by the men in my section.
One letter was of the ‘hope-thisfinds-you-as-it-leaves-me’ variety, but it contained five words that stood out in the surrounding illiteracy: ‘War is a be bleed in bastid’. It was a statement that became an epit ...
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