and so forth.
And one muses that a long and violent path unfolded from these men in black circa 1934 or so to this poor bastard perishing in the last months of the war, and his badges being rendered into a trophy and then, decades later, being thrown away in a wholly careless act. Good that you saved them. We all owe something special to the past, to the dead, and their memory.
Who will remember us, and how will they do so?