The soft yellow glow reached across the battlefield, everything it touched, every shredded body, every disembodied corpse, every smear of blood that was once a human being spasmed with a new vibrancy.
The stench of decay is an enticing aroma to some. Flocks of squawking birds and buzzing clouds of bloated flies were the only sounds on the silent killing fields.
There were too many for every man to get his own hole in the dirt. A heard of rumbling bulldozers shoveled the human remains into a pit. They could hear men whimpering underneath the growing mound of bodies, but they were buried far too deep in the putridity.
The men who dug the ditch where their brothers, comrades, and friends would be spending eternity could see the bugs writhing in the blood-soaked dirt ready to devour their blessed bounty of flesh.
The corpse-filled fissure was covered over with dirt, and the decomposing men became the fertilizer out of which a field of grass and crucifixes would grow.
The morning sun revealed the horror.