A shallow trench, shallow as a place for the feelings of young army boys.

War is the opposite of love, but not of man.  Only a human being can hate like that, it's a human disease.

Frank was a young boy, cannon fodder like any youthful soldier, without school but with a call to fight. You both lay in the bitter earth, in the mud from the heavy rain, with the sounds of cannons roaring, clutching rifles in your hands.

"I miss home..." Frankie, your squadmate, mumbled so softly and with such a trembling voice that you could barely hear him, he was a sensitive boy, wasted on the battlefield.