Echoes of the Somme

The mud of the Somme does not just stick to your heavy leather boots.

It seeps into your very soul, weighted with the cold smell of iron.

Arthur, keep your head down. The shells are falling much closer

to us. We are not just fighting for land anymore. We fight for

the man beside us. In the heart of this madness, we find what

it truly means to live. Hold on to that hope, my friend.

The dawn is coming, eventually, I promise.