You get out of your 1944 fighter plane. Every step is a step on bones and debris. You look toward the horizons deep orange glow as the sun is coming to survey what you've done. This is a small victory for your country, but to live with being the only pilot to survive... To live with the world knowing you as the coward who lived, or the one still alive to be blamed for all the death of this small, Innocent, village... Life sometimes is punish.

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