(And that would be the piece that would tell us that we had entered into the last day.)nnJumpin' Jehovahs, the battlefield is clear!nStrange soldier that claimed he was a man at war.nnHe was of no army; he was fighting all alone;nAnd for no reason he was a man at war.nnHe was standing in his foxhole; he was always on the defensive;nWhen out of the smoke appeared an attractive figure.nnA head popped out of that torso, and much to his surprisenHe fell in love with its eyes.nnShe was fifteen, Vogue magazine,nWhat an odd place for her to be.nStanding on that battlefield by the man at war.nnDoes she love me?, he screamed with bombs bursting in the air.nDoes she love me? Will she understand me?nI'm a man at war!nnHe was ambushed and shot up his legs and arms and head.nHad to be amputated, he was rehabilitated;nHe was a man at war.nnAnd suddenly, and surprisingly,nTheir roles had been reversed:nHe was blessed and he was cursed;nHe was a man at war.