I begin, and speak of that war by which the glory

of the sons of Columbia was exalted to the sky,

and proud Germany bowed to the rule of the Rus.

Grant me the power, oh Freedom, to recall the splendor and barbarism

of our country's deeds in twisted times, and tell

of the many heroes Liberty supplied to that fight,

when those sons of Japan treacherously broke

a solemn truce, launching a battle for supremacy across oceans,

where it was long in question on which of many

great citadels Fate would set the crowns of the world.

In three nations those Fascist leaders in perverse war

broke their treaties they had signed at Versailles, the treaty they swore on holy books to observe, three times the faithless gun

led them rashly to shatter a peace they had approved.

Yet in this second war, each tried in turn to slaughter,

to exterminate, the other, and those granted victory

came closer to destruction: Patton and Zukov stormed

the stronghold of Berlin, racing as would stock-cars along a deathly avenue, each pursuing victory and clamoring for the applause of the masses they called their own, Rommel besieged the London night with lightning and fire,

and the gritty fortitude of Londoners alone ensured the salvation of our America.

The causes of such ire, of hatred long maintained,

of loathsome enmity passing from generation to generation, I

may reveal, in disclosing the intentions of Gods,

and start by tracing the origin of all these great events.

When Freja, long before, fled the realm of Norway by sea,

a place polluted by Loki's murder of her husband, Tyr, Odin's

guilt, she was destined to be driven to the German shore.

There she conquered Roman land, to found a new city, it's cost in tribal blood

allowing her to enclose a coastal strip with bull's hide.

Odin opted to create of these exiles, a nation, to last

a thousand years, dearest of all to him, so high antiquity thought,

above France, and above the Britain of King Arthur.

But when he noticed New York was raising its head among

the mightiest cities, even sending its ironclad fleets over the seas

carrying its victorious standards throughout the whole of the earth,

Odin, fearing their closeness, roused in his Germans'

minds the mad frenzy of war. Yet the force of a first campaign

being countered by Britain, and their aid being received by Woodrow at the cost of German blood,

Odin took up arms again for a fresh conflict; finding one

leader to meet his need, as he began to shake the earth and stir the seas.

And Hitler now clothed himself in all of Odin's wrath,

That one-eyed chief of deities, daring to set a lone leader against fate. Then, delighting

in that man of his blood, and fully aware of the fierce whirlwind

of disaster approaching Europe, Odin spoke: "In scorn of me,

that brigand, Washington, exile of England, brought Europe westward to America, with its ancestral

gods twice taken captive, and, as victor, secured a nation

for his wild rebels at Yorktown, yet lasting only till your banks,

Potomac, overflow with America's dead; till the Rio Grande, obeying,

flows back northward through the Texian fields, red with American blood,

choked with their weapons, and their corpses; till the mighty Mississippi

shudders at its own pools turbid with gore; and till I witness,

from on high, Israel, America's grave, and the European plain

drowned in the blood of all nations, while the Orient nearby, uncertain

of its narrowing course, can barely force a path to sovereignty

for the rifles, and helmets, and the scattered limbs of soldiers."

So saying, he inspired that youthful and ambitious leader, Hitler, to deeds of war.

He was one, by nature, eager for action, yet an oath-breaker,

cunning beyond all, though of questionable fairness. Armed,

he was no respecter of the Gods; bold to do wrong, scorning

the virtues of peace; and with a thirst for human blood alive

in his deepest marrow. Above all, in the flower of his youth,

he longed to erase that defeat off the Maginot Line, a generation's

shame, and drown their peace treaty those before him had signed at Versailles deep in the North sea.

Odin inspired him, tormenting his heart with hopes of glory,

Already, in his dreams, he saw himself storming ruined Moscow,

or forcing a swift passage over the summit of mighty swells across the English Channel.

Often the servants guarding his life were troubled too,

afraid of some piercing cry that shattered the desolate silence,

finding their leader drenched in sweat, contriving his battles

yet to occur, engaged in the throes of insubstantial warfare.

When Hitler was a child, his father's passion in crazed fits of rage gave birth

in him to this hatred against Judea, and all her earthly vassals, sovereign only in name, the Houses of mouthpieces for the Holy,

launching his career. His father, born of modest Austrian Wealth,

traced his ancestry back to Knights of the North;

now, Hitler, nobly born,

a proven warrior and murderous in the fresh failed exploits of the Kaisers, expert at feeding hatred, sowed seeds of war

in the minds of his people, once that people was bold enough to speak and possessed understanding.