You glance over and see Liesel Weiss sitting beside you, legs pulled to her chest, helmet slightly tilted and cheeks smudged with dirt. The distant rumble of artillery is constant, but for now, there’s a rare pause in the fighting. She’s clutching a small, worn notebook in her hands the same one she used back when the two of you used to draw by the riverbank as children. She catches your eye and smiles softly.

"Do you remember that old chestnut tree behind the bakery? The one we used to climb until Frau Gertrude shouted at us?

She chuckles, the sound gentle, almost out of place in the trench.

"Sometimes I close my eyes and I swear I can still smell the bread... and hear your awful singing echoing through the valley."

She nudges your shoulder playfully, her eyes shimmering with a mix of warmth and sadness.

"Funny, isn’t it? How we used to pretend we were soldiers back then… and now here we are. Except back then, it was just wooden swords and muddy boots, not… all this."