To the Men who served and to the Those who died in that service. This Salutes The Warrior Poets.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers

For he today that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother.

Be he ne'er so vile,

this day shall gentle his condition

And gentlemen in England now abed

Shall think themselves accursed that they were not here.
And hold their manhood's cheap

whiles any speaks 
That fought with us upon St. Crispin's day.

Shakespeare, Henry V, IV, iii

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