• Sitting in a trench full of my own blood, wondering when this madness is going to be over. Look over to my left i can see my best friend, dead. Isn't this a wonderful place? No matter were i look i'll see some one either dead or almost dead, i could call this hell on earth! Death might be a nice cup of coffee right now.

    Hearing M16's firing over us, waiting for some one to scream. Hearing the scream of a bomb go over, witting it to kill. Waiting for the one bullet to penetrate through our fragile body which gives us a nice cup of coffee.

    My grand dad never told me how bad this is, to think about it he never really spoke of what happens here. Now i can under stand why, at night. I can't sleep, at day time i can't stay awake.
    When can we win? Or the question is, how will we loose?