>And that was his mistake, for he failed to foresee that after Paris
>would come Stalingrad. I am not making that mistake and hope that
>Washington will meet Stalingrad one day, perhaps even during my life
>time.
I can't help wondering what might have been the outcome if the people of Stalingrad had, in the face of hopeless odds, chosen to go gently into that good night. Instead of resisting with everything they had? You can't always leave it up to others.
Speaking of poetry though, this one was read out at a well-attended anti-war rally in Launceston, Tasmania last weekend:
For Whom the Bell Tolls by John Donne
No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manner of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.
Bill Bartlett Bracknell Tas