I fought for eighteen hours in the trenches of the Bloody Angle. In the rain, I stood on the corpses of those who fell before me, firing my bayoneted rile into the mass of Yanks, then throwing it like a spear before my hands found another rifle to shoot. Then I, too, took a bullet to my heart and fell among my dead brothers.

In the morning, the victorious enemy looked down upon us, removed their hats, then pushed in the parapets of the trenches, sealing us in our grave.