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Ezert Harcoltunk means We Fight in Hungarian

There was a popular theory that Germany and Hungary lost the war because of Jews and Communists working for the allies, and in this image Jewish men are depicted as being hanged and their wive mourning for them

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The last line means "it is sweet and just to die for one's country

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Einstien showed that science did not die with the old world

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Einstien showed that science did not die with the old world

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Made this while posted by the French military to document the war. WW1 was when war started to be globally recognized as evil and the art of the time recognized that

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Won the 1924 and 1925 presidential elections

Ran as a very conservative candidate and won elections where both candidates campaigned for smaller government.

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Sigmund Freud was a medical doctor from Vienna who believed mental disorders were psychological, and not physiological. Freud studied conflict between the conscious and subconscious minds.

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He became the face of scientific breakthroughs when he introduced the Theory of Relativity

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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.