1. After Supper
They told us after we'd had our supper. Told us what we'd be doing tomorrow. We knew what would happen to us. Did we care? Of course we did, we knew that we were heading into certain death tomorrow. So we tried to enjoy the night, some went to the local brothel, who probably made themselves more in one night than they had their whole life, others drank by the fire and shared stories, some just went to bed, thinking that they could fight their way out of the hand that death had around us. Slowly closing in, hour by hour. We knew what was to come of us, some apparently cared more than others. Me? I only cared about my family. I wondered if they would miss me, if my wife would remarry. Who my little girl would grow up to be. Whether they would be well looked after. I miss them, and I hope they miss me. I wrote to them later that night before I took my final sleep. And upon waking up, discovered I'd shat myself. No one said war was pretty.