I, Frank Oveil was a Soldier, fighting for the french in the War that would become the first world war to the future historians.

It was 1916, and I had managed to stay safe from the enemy's bullet's and bombs for the past two years, but no matter how many bullets I dodged, I knew the day would come, where one would pierce my flesh; said Day was the 18th of October 1916, two days ago...

I lay in the hospital of the nearest trench, surrounded by camerades who are as close to death as I am, if not more, and some who've passed the veil already, with their corpses waiting to be brought away to make space for the next bunch of injured soldiers.

I hated this war from the moment it started, even more when I had to join it, and now here I was, bleeding out, hazy on a grubby mattress in which dozens died before me. One of the nurses, who was like an angel, no less, took care of me day and night, and tended to even the smallest of my wounds.

The frenzy of the bloodloss made me dizzy and my head felt heavy. The angel who she was, looking so much like my mother, and treating me like she would, a mother and angel. She was my light, the one I saw through the blood.

One hazy night was particularly bad, and I couldn't tell one person from another, I only knew that I wanted my mother... Nothing more was needed, and my son's made that clear.

"Please... Mother, please come save me..."

She rushed to my side and held my hand, providing all the comfort she could

"Mother, will I make it?... Please mother, help me- save me... Mother, I'm so cold..."