"Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew Someone had blunder'd: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Living by chance, loving by choice, killing by profession!
Slave Childs never die, they are just MIA. Legends are not born, they are willed into existence. Those that die, are not forgotten, and those that live, live to fight another day. Nobody is born on purpose, nor are they given a purpose; they must find their own, way, their own path, and they must forge their own destiny. Never pity the dead, pity the living. And above all else, live well, fight hard, and die with honor.