1944, Fall, Somewhere in the Gothic Line (Italy)
S omewhere in the Gothic Line, I don't remember exactly where, on the edge of a road, a Sherman tank was parked as if waiting to move into action. But it had been in its last fight as had the two troopers who had been inside when an incendiary shell had struck the top right hand corner of the tank. Parts of the armour had been blackened. There seemed to be an air of silent, somber and solitary sadness around the location even though the day was sunny and warm. As one glanced down through the top open hatch into the murky interior the remains of two brave soldiers could be seen in the form of metal uniform buttons, charred bones and two sooty helmets.
T wo more Canadians had made the supreme sacrifice.
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