My Soldier

Someone once said to me best friends are those who tell you how they feel. It may hurt the feelings of this person, but I do not think this is a true best friend. A true best friend should support you with goodwill and tell you things. In the article "Secret Ritual of Love and Death", the author noticed that she will soon lose her best friend. I hope that I will know when I will lose my best friend. "I am confident that we need help, so we do not need friends' help." Epicurus may think we need a friend for us.

"The pain suffering of my old friends and colleagues, and my poor soldiers broke my heart, believing in me, the battle of failure will be depressing like battle. I am free from the bigger evils; however, in order to win the fight like Waterloo, the sacrifice of so many brave friends can only be called a great misery, not the result of the masses. Luckily it was fortunate that 10,000 injured soldiers died or were found in a nearby hospital, during which the injured usually suffered a deadly fatal injury, the injured robbed the battlefield

I was a battlefield when I was 10 years old. In this battle this fierce eternal war has spread to my country like sickness. The soldiers and their sturdy leather boots walked on the lawn and spread my love and joy. The bullets flew through the air, and these people contaminated my calm with gunpowder and bloody. My house is a battlefield, and my love is destroyed. When I was 20 years the war continued. Until it stops suddenly ... it will continue. The snow fell on a long withered grass. The snow fell and the bullet flew until the last gentle wafer fell from the sky. Like dominoes and card house in a lonely plane, they all fell. They are headed for the rhythm of frozen death and harsh rhythm. One million troops have arrived here, and there are still one million sky cannons.

My grandfather was elected as World War II as an infantry. He talked to my father about the story that soldiers ate for breakfast in the morning did not come back at night. One day, after the grenade exploded, his left ear was damaged. Many times he pretended to escape to escape from the Russian army. He was lucky to live when he reached home. But after the end of the Second World War, my grandfather could not return home. He was imprisoned by Russians and spent the next 5 years cold weather and severe confinement. As a prisoner, he was asked to repair the surface he destroyed during the war. When he returned home in 1950, the war had already kicked him out. He lost his spirit and imagination to create a better future