The old lie; dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
This is a line from from one of Wilfred Owen's poems that I find incredible fitting even more so since a few weeks ago during a class discussion on nationalism a classmate mentioned that should his country ask him to bear arms and fight, he undoubtedly would. The words 'die for my country' were even mentioned. it's nice to see that blind, unquestioning loyalty/stupidity is still very much at play. Hurray, my faith in mankind is rewarded.
But back to WW1, nasty business this. I'm halfway through his collection of poems and a few stand out as being especially poignant. I wont mention which ones since I feel that would be spoiling it but they're worth reading because they say something about that time and that place.