All around them were the bodies of dead Chinese soldiers. They lined the verges of the roads and floated in the canals jammed together around the pillars of the bridges. In the trenches between the burial mounds hundreds of dead soldiers sat side by side with their heads against the torn earth as if they had fallen asleep together in a deep dream of war.

Set your peace freebefore your caged mind catchesyou again in another dream trapwhere you may loathe to be your own menace awaiting in hope of a war-less world

There are casualties in war. Those who dont make it back to a place of sound hopes and dreams. Some take on their demons alone. They are deceived into fearlessness and trampled by the hooves of their oppressor. Besides intervention there is little justice for the thousands-upon-thousands hacked to pieces all around us. How dare we try to take life to the next level. Instead of merely protecting ourselves or scrounging up our next meal we have the audacity to hope for something morea witness for our lives who will survive alongside us.

On faiths battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nations hot rage.

Four times during the first six days they were assembled and briefed and then sent back. Once they took off and were flying in formation when the control tower summoned them down. The more it rained the worse they suffered. The worse they suffered the more they prayed that it would continue raining. All through the night men looked at the sky and were saddened by the stars. All through the day they looked at the bomb line on the big wobbling easel map of Italy that blew over in the wind and was dragged in under the awning of the intelligence tent every time the rain began. The bomb line was a scarlet band of narrow satin ribbon that delineated the forward most position of the Allied ground forces in every sector of the Italian mainland.For hours they stared relentlessly at the scarlet ribbon on the map and hated it because it would not move up high enough to encompass the city.When night fell they congregated in the darkness with flashlights continuing their macabre vigil at the bomb line in brooding entreaty as though hoping to move the ribbon up by the collective weight of their sullen prayers. I really cant believe it Clevinger exclaimed to Yossarian in a voice rising and falling in protest and wonder. Its a complete reversion to primitive superstition. Theyre confusing cause and effect. It makes as much sense as knocking on wood or crossing your fingers. They really believe that we wouldnt have to fly that mission tomorrow if someone would only tiptoe up to the map in the middle of the night and move the bomb line over Bologna. Can you imagine You and I must be the only rational ones left.In the middle of the night Yossarian knocked on wood crossed his fingers and tiptoed out of his tent to move the bomb line up over Bologna.

Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream. Water them with optimism and solutions and you will cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways to turn a problem into an opportunity for success. Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your dream.