The battlefield was covered in bodies. They hung off the barbwire, blood dripping out of them and staining the grass red. The sound of gun fire rattled through the air around them, the only sound to be heard for miles.
In the trenches, those men that were alive were little more then skeletons. Their uniforms hung off them in tatty rags. Their hollowed faces told the horrors of war as each had seen it.
The soldiers looked out over the destruction. They were living in a hell they would never escape from. Viewing the dead with envious eyes and wishing to be amongst them.