You're a war photographer in ww2

you're sat on the front lines, setting up your camera for the perfect shot of the soldiers that will soon flood the field. You hate this job, loathe it even, photographing trauma and getting your own trauma wasn't a pleasant way to make money, but it put food on the table

your gaze lingers on the group of British soldiers near you, a Sargent scolding a few younger men, you think nothing of it, a normal scene but you couldn't help but feel bad for them knowing what was about t happen