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Living In Lies and Graves

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Martin Yates was just one of thousands of men waiting for their turn to race towards certain death. They stood in the darkness of a storm at midnight. The heavy clouds of the storm raging above their heads erased the moon and stars from the sky. Torrential rain had turned the trench into a rising river. Its murky waters were saturated with blood and clogged with the floating bloated bodies of dead rats. The muddy ground beneath their feet was slowly swallowing them, and one couldn't walk without tripping over water covered corpses.
The flashes of lighting cast long and twisted shadows over the cratered moonscape of no mans land. The barrage of guns was beginning to fritter out into ever more sporadic volleys of fire. The attack in the rain was another ill-convenience plan thought up by high command. It was based on a simple premise, that the storm would blind the enemy while their own boys would somehow effortlessly navigate their way through the stifling darkness and bli…