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The Horrors Of The War II

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Until The End Even in our darkest hour, never despair, the light will come sooner than expected. It was December 23rd , 1943, and there they were, sitting in a ghost town that was once the fine city of Rostock. The soldiers were waiting patiently in the bombed out, abandoned airplane factory that still looked like a war zone. The area was littered with skeletons of World War II jets and engines that once fueled Hitler’s Wehrmacht and mighty blitzkriegs that helped him conquer most of Europe in its hey day. Hitler’s army went through Europe decimating buildings and works of art that had great historical value. The Nazi soldiers gave no thought to what they were doing, but only wishing to please the Furor. The bones of these mighty planes looked as sorrowful as the men were now feeling. The putrid smell of dead bodies and spent casings hung heavy in their nostrils. The entire company was chilled to the bone by the hard sleet and snow that had been pelting them relentlessly for the past15 hours. They were in the northeastern corner of Germany, nestled between the mighty Warnow River and the harsh Baltic Sea in a city that once was bustling and thriving before the allies invaded through Demark and Sweden and the red Russians barreled through Poland. The men were glad it was almost empty, lending a sense of peaceful serenity that almost had a way of making them feel safe. It was so quiet; almost too quiet. Gunnery Sergeant Ronald L. Carter, a tall, athletic, blonde

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