"Only the dead have seen the end of war"-Plato

The grounds were silent as you walked past the rows of tombstones, every nation has a place like this, were their dead are laid to rest and honored. your deploying soon but were in D.C and wanted to stop here. Many men and women lay on these grounds, dating from the first Neuroi war to today, Airmen, sailors marines and soldiers of long won conflicts rest in peace, there death's not in vain, there sacrifice is not forgoten.

There's even a section devoted to Witches, the angel's in the sky who gave their lives to keep us all safe. You get on a knee and look at one stone.

Hanna Lee

Chief Petty Officer, USN.

1928-1943.

"We will never forget you"

One more death in a war, many a time you have head or read of the valor of battle, the bravery under fire, and this is often the end result, many heroes perish so others may live in peace.

"Sorry" you whisper, placing you hand on the cold stone, many may never know of this young woman's death, she was just one more lost in the war.

There are places like this all over the world, Karlsland, Gallia, Orussia, all have these places where the dead are honored for their deeds. From the shores of Normandy to the Deserts of Africa and beaches of the Pacific, blood was shed in the name of freedom and humanity.

You look at another slab.

James Patterson, 101st Airborne, died over Karlsland

1918-1945.

"No better soldier"

You can't help but shed a tear, this Nation called upon many, and many served her well, but many never returned to her shores.

You walk further down and watch a funeral, a Marine honor guard lowers a coffin into a grave and to rest,

"Present...arms...fire"!

(Gunfire)!

"Fire"!

(Gunfire)!

"Fire"!

(Gunfire)!

"About...face"! you hear the cry as they turn and march off, their comrade laid to rest, taps in played and the flag draped over the coffin is folded and given to the family who are in tears.

"To many have paid the price" You say as it begin's raining, you walk further down, stepping among the legions of graves until you find the one your looking for.

Wilson Tyson

U.S Army.

1921-1988.

"Rest now, you earned it soldier"

"Grampa, just wanted to stop by, i'm shipping out soon and..." you trail off. You know words will never do him justice.

"I'm sorry you never got to see me off, sir" you say giving his grave a crisp salute.

He would have been proud, he always told story's of his time during the war, the men he served with and his time in Britanina with a Witch unit.

"I miss you every day" you speak, your voice cracking from sadness, he only past away a few years ago but you will never forget him.

"After i get back, i'll stop by again, tell you a few of my own war story's, OK" you say this time with a smile.

"I'll make you proud, sir".

As the sunsets, casting a orange light over the graves, you walk back to base, the guard at the gate giving you a salute. The sigh above the gateway reads

Arlington National Cemetery.

a Bugle sounds behind you, giving the dead their last thanks of the day, you place your dress cap on your head and walk off into the setting sun.

We must never forget those who payed the ultimate price in the name of freedom and our lives as free men.