I had a strange – make that weird, dream last night. It started with me looking at a large painting with a three stories high chateau on a hill in the upper left corner. A dirt road extended out to the right and when it reached the edge of the picture it curved back toward the lower left corner. In the lower right corner a small building was surrounded by a manicured lawn. I was standing in a gallery looking at this painting. The picture slowly came to life when a procession started from the chateau, a vehicle in front and hundreds of troops marching in formation behind it. Simultaneously, a jeep moved out from the building in the right corner across the grass until it stopped just a few yards from the road. Then the figures came into view. General George S. Patton, Jr., was in the vehicle at the head of the procession. He was standing up, bedecked in his dress uniform, battle and other ribbons smartly displayed on his left breast, an ivory-handle pistol at his waist, a riding crop in his left hand and obviously enjoying himself as the center of attention. Behind him marched his beloved 3rd U.S. Army which he led across France following D-Day in 1944. In the parked jeep sat three American army officers and a man in a German uniform. His face was a scowl. It was obvious he absolutely hated the moment and wished he were elsewhere. When the parade of troops ended the jeep started up, turned and headed back to the small building and carried Adolf Hitler to his fate.
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