July 28, 1914, the great war began.

In ever has mankind foreseen its devastation, and so, propaganda spread the words of honor, virtue ascending the image of a soldier. As foolish and young as you were, you enlisted in hope of glamorous victory and a higher social status with chest full of medals.

You will go through hell.

You are no fighter, just simple and weak a young man/woman who just dropped out of medical university looking forward to tie loose ends to your social insecurities, therefore you chose a simpler and safer job, a medic, or so you thought it was.

In a few weeks of training, your shoulders now broader to carry the equipment, it was grueling yet you are steadfast on the track, further getting indoctrinated. The Fatherland needs great medics to heal his wounds. after the last day of training, your sergeant shredded away his stoic, unfeeling nature, becoming almost like a father about to lose his children. You wondered why, the war will be over by winter, what can go wrong? So you approached the sergeant, and asked. He has so much on his mind for a person who barely fought, a coward, you thought.

You were sent to the Western Front and you soon found yourself in Verdun, fighting the French.

Came news that your battalion would be reinstall to a new British and French Combined offensive at Somme. Mud and blood is now your life, every time one calls for medic you know they were maimed. You feel helpless in the battle against death, you are losing and with each life perished in front of you, guilt made you want to just wander out no-man land

Today, your hot-headed and blood thirsty high command launched another mass offensive, you know your overstretched supply line and struggling frontline will not hold much longer. Machine guns' noises made your stomach churn, but your conscience as a medic told you to stay with your comrades till the bitter end while marching straight to the jaw of death. You waited to be cut down or blown to pieces yet you weren't but it's only a beginning.