How about the war tell the children in Belgium…

How about the war tell the children in Belgium they Take a high school students who are 16-18 years old and you go to places of military glory, of local counterparts of the village Kryukovo There for the entire class selects all the gadgets And in return is issued a walkie-talkie, one per platoon, each a duffel bag, a gun and a uniform, real — once belonged to the participant of war On the neck of each hung obosnovali — someone becomes a Sergeant Janssen, someone ordinary van Mol, the names of all of the platoon specifically this village was defended by the whole gang Landed 10 kilometers away from the village, and stomp kids in the heat with all his junk Hours 2-3 stomp Weapon, which is not so much weight at first, becomes very heavy Backpack rubbing shoulders Want to throw heavy knapsacks and lie Want to chat, fool around, and not One who Sergeant got through the crowd to keep in order — to go quietly, not shouting, not behind, not forward ran and duped (imagine 17-year-old on the spot of some kid who must suddenly hold 15 people their classmates) they have to Reach the village, then the teacher-the commander leads you home, stop — Who’s an ordinary van Mol? — I! — When your squad came to this place, an ordinary van they Say struck a mine near this house From this moment on “ordinary” silent Go on — Who’s private Stevens? — I! At this point, the platoon was attacked, PFC Stevens was wounded in the thigh and died on the spot from loss of blood, he managed to approach the Ordinary “pauses” And so they go on until you reach the cemetery, and do not see how standing in a row, one after the other, the stones with the names of those whose obosnovali the neck, And I understand that 15 there were only two survivors — such as they are, eighteen-year-old greenhorns who wanted to fool around, listen to music, gab with the opposite sex to dance and kiss, but instead of thirst, hunger, pain, fear, fatigue, and for so many, sudden and terrible death

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