>> This one is called Portrait from the infantry.
And BAR means Browning automatic rifle.
This was a very favorite weapon on the infantry in the World War II.
Portrait from the infantry.
He smell baded and was red-eyed with the miseries of being scared while sleepless, when said this.
I want a private woman, peace and quiet and some green stuff in my pocket.
Fuck the rest.
Pity the underwear and socks long burnt of an accomplished murderer.
Oh, God of Germans and replacements.
He refused three stripes to keep his BAR and fought for not to fight some days,
like any good small businessman of war and dug more holes than an outside dog.
They modified some Freudian's these.
No man can stand 300 days of fear of mutilation and death.
What he theorized was a joke outside.
To keep a tight asshole, dry socks and a you-deep hole with you at all times.
Afterwards, met in a sports shirt with a round wife, he was a clean slave
of a daughter, a power brake and beer.
To me he seemed diminished at his dream or else enlarged,
who knows, by its accomplishments.
Personal life run from mass issues in our bloody time and lived out hiddenly.
Aside from sound baseball talk his only interesting remark was
in pointing to his wife's belly.
If he comes out left foot first, the way you forward marched,
I am going to stuff him back up.
Isn't he awful?
She said.