PER ARDUA AD ASTRA...THROUGH STRUGGLES TO THE STARS.

The worse thing I
did in the war

was...to survive
when others...didn't.

Always the "Why me..?"

Others...better men than I
deserved better.

Every day is bitter.
A life lost.

I breathe the air
that they would never....

for them there was
no tomorrow.

I survived the war.

Find it harder
to survive my self.

The dead crowd 'round me
wanting to taste today's sunlight

with their eyes
that  accuse.

"Macte nova virtute,..."
they mock me with schoolboy Latin

"...sic itur ad astra!
they say and say.

The VIrgil falling
from my hand.

*

Macte nova virtute, sic itur ad astra.

( Blessings on your young courage, boy; that's the way to the stars.)

Virgil - Aeneid  Book 9.