Pistol-proud, Virginia-vain,
Deaf to danger, numb to pain,
Born a century too late,
George Patton spat at Fate.
Underneath the bombshell’s burst,
He knew this was not the first
Blood of enemies he’d spilled,
Nor the first age when he’d killed.
Once a prehistoric Celt,
Then a legionnaire who felt
Glee at gashing Jesus’ side;
Later, serving Him with pride.
Visionary general,
Prayerful, and profane, and all
This, and...
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