When the last red tank has grumbled
Through the fortress of the foe
I shall return, my dear,
Full of the vast accumulated love
That from my silent longing
In the southern isles I gathered
As a future gift for you.
What desolation passed before my eyes
I counted but a dream
That history in her fetid torment
Passes on to man;
I know that from my faith in you
New cities will be born
Where they dug graves for hostages
Though soil may bitter grow from all
That youthful flesh and blood,
I doubt not that our love
Shall bring a harvest to the world
That will efface the ruins of war,
With grain and joy in such abundance
That men shall once again be free.
by STEPHEN HOLE FRITCHMAN
We salute our hero's
Through the fortress of the foe
I shall return, my dear,
Full of the vast accumulated love
That from my silent longing
In the southern isles I gathered
As a future gift for you.
What desolation passed before my eyes
I counted but a dream
That history in her fetid torment
Passes on to man;
I know that from my faith in you
New cities will be born
Where they dug graves for hostages
Though soil may bitter grow from all
That youthful flesh and blood,
I doubt not that our love
Shall bring a harvest to the world
That will efface the ruins of war,
With grain and joy in such abundance
That men shall once again be free.
by STEPHEN HOLE FRITCHMAN
We salute our hero's

