The Best Luck Of All Is The

Old Soldiers Never Die; They Just Fade Away.

In My Dreams I Hear Again The Crash Of Guns, The Rattle Of Musketry, The Strange, Mournful Mutter Of The Battlefield.

A Good Soldier, Whether He Leads A Platoon Or An Army, Is Expected To Look Backward As Well As Forward; But He Must Think Only Forward.

Whether In Chains Or In Laurels, Liberty Knows Nothing But Victories.

It Is My Earnest Hope, And Indeed The Hope Of All Mankind, That From This Solemn Occasion A Better World Shall Emerge Out Of The Blood And Carnage Of The Past...