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You can't fix a war that's been on for hundreds of thousands of years. But in making the case that war can and will be ended, I have my work cut out for me. Exactly 291,875 bloody bodies lay before me in the still field. The 291,875th body was that of my best friend. He had been killed in battle just hours before, and I was still in shock. I am writing this to rest upon the peace that the world could use. Not all of the 291,875 bodies in the field were my friends, but each and every one of them deserved a proper burial. I set to work with the other survivors, digging graves for our fallen comrades. It was a somber task, but it had to be done. The sun was setting by the time we finished digging all the graves. We each said a few words over our fallen friends before we started to fill in the holes. My hands were shaking as I scooped up dirt and threw it over my best friend's body. I couldn't believe he was gone. I wanted to scream, cry, and do anything that would make this nightmare go away. But I had to be strong. There were others who needed me.
As I shoveled the last of the dirt over my friend's grave, I promised myself that I would never let something like this happen again. That I would do whatever it took to end this senseless war. And I would never forget the friends I lost along the way.
And you should finish what you start, right? I started this war, so I might as well finish it.
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