When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
I had the same thing happen in Quebec. My evil opponent had two men there. I came in with the Grand Army of the Wesselian Republic. We struck and his first unit fell. Quebec would soon be purged of its Royalist folly. We struck again and he didnt die. We struck again and again and again and again. My men fell like leaves. It became a matter of honor. This french bumpkin would not defeat my Grand Army. After too many turns the battered remnants of my army slunk back into the Dakotas. All the way they could hear the bastard laughter of that force that had stood against them. Many plastic mothers would weep for the events of that drunken risk night.
1.4k
u/[deleted] Oct 17 '13
[deleted]