"I’m up to my knees in cold mud. Haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. Don’t know since when. Time doesn’t matter. I’ve stopped measuring it in seconds, minutes, hours, days… To me it’s just thumps. Thumps I hear of people falling from the trench walls. Dead. Like puppets falling from a stage. Maybe that’s what we are though. Maybe after all, all this is nothing but a stage. We came here thinking of all the glamour of warfare, the glory of dying for your nation but what is so glorious about choking in your own blood? It’s ironic, when we came here our fear was that we would be drowning in theirs."