The screams of war and death echoed through the barren wasteland. What was once a beautiful field, had been reduced to a black, sooty blood soaked wasteland. The bitter clouds growled with torrential fury, hissing a downpour of despair over the trembling men in the trenches.

Charles Thomas Hansley was one of these soldiers, cradling his Lee-Enfield rifle that was his only solace in this nightmare. The enemy had held off for now, likely equally terrified as shells bombarded the battlefield at uneven intervals, threatening to destroy men and land like sacks of flour.

“W-when will t-this hell end…?” Charles croaked, tears threatening to fall. The other soldiers were too busy fearing for their own lives to pay him any mind.