When the war closed, I buried the hatchet, and I won't fight now unless I'm put upon.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Nobody ever forgets where he buried the hatchet.
I was a soldier in WWII. The last couple of months of the war I was actually in combat.
I've been to war, and I know the consequences and sacrifice it takes. If we must fight, we fight to win.
If you will work in co-operation, forgetting the past, burying the hatchet, you are bound to succeed.
I didn't know a time when there wasn't a war because I spent all my time from the age of two or three to eight in a coal cellar really.
For a great many years, as a soldier, I had a suspicion that war was a racket; not until I retired to civil life did I fully realize it.
I must return to my old comrades of the Great War - to the brown, the treeless, the flat and grave-set plain of Flanders - to the rolling, heat-miraged downlands of the Somme - for I am dead with them, and they live in me again.
I ended the war a horse ahead.
I honored the fallen enemy by placing a stone on his beautiful grave.
There's no point in burying a hatchet if you're going to put up a marker on the site.