It was as though the wind cried for mercy when the three friends crept across the battlefield late at night. They used the cover of darkness to flee the site where tons of souls had found their last destiny in the mud. A few were still alive and screaming, unaware of the fact that they were dying. Still struggling to hold on for just one more minute, thinking help would arrive. Just waiting in vain for medics who never came.
Many bones and skulls were buried in the mud, only to be exposed after a bombing. The smell of death and rotting bodies attracts insects and rats, the only winners of the great war.

It’s 1916. We’re witnessing three German soldiers who want to get away from the madness near Verdun in France.
This is a sad story about death and destruction that put France in an ironclad stalemate in 1916. This used to be a wooded area, but the trees were long gone, shattered by artillery fire.
British, French, and German troops dug into trenches, shooting their rifles and machine guns. It’s kill or be killed on this so-called field of honor. But why would anyone die for a bunch of stuffy old generals? They’re the ones who studied the maps of the surrounding area. The only thing that mattered to them was the body count.
It’s easy to imagine them congratulating each other. “Hey, we kicked ass! We won! Our enemies lost more soldiers. Yay!”
Without hesitation, they sent their soldiers to the next trench a few acres closer, even though they knew they’d lose it a day later. Their orders were “Shoot to kill.”