Mort

there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it was a flamethrower 

Through the travail of the ages Midst the pomp and toil of war Have I fought and strove and perished Countless times upon this star.
So as through a glass and darkly The age long strife I see Where I fought in many guises, Many names but always me.
So forever in the future Shall I battle as of yore, Dying to be born a fighter But to die again once more.         

                G S Patton

Mort

there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it was a flamethrower 

I have plans.   I am dangerous when I have plans...