The machine gun fire lit up the night sky of no man’s land like fireworks going off on Independence Day. Bright flashes of light and explosions cast a bright hue on the trench. Elliott was pinned down in the muddy tunnel with his unit. It would be a miracle if they made it out of here alive. A mortar landed right next to the trench with a deafening explosion throwing mud and debris all over the trench. Elliott’s ears began to ring violently as he zoned out and closed his eyes, temporarily escaping this nightmare. He thought of the place dearest to him. Home. “Mother, I want to go to France to fight. I need to for my country,” he had said seven months ago when he was only eighteen. “No, please! You can’t leave me! You will surely be killed!” said Elliott's sobbing mother. “Mother, I don’t really have a choice. I’m a grown man now and Uncle Sam is calling my name.” Elliott brushed his brown hair to the side with his hand and sighed. “I know this is hard for you mother, but I promise I’ll come home. I won’t let those bastards hurt me, I swear. This is something I must do for my country. I really hope you can understand.” Elliot’s father came through the front door after feeding the horses and analyzed the situation. Elliott had already told him his plans to join the army. “Susan, you have to let the boy go,” he uttered as he put his arm on the devastated mother's shoulder. “I will come home soon and make you both proud,” Elliot said as he looked into his mother’s wet puffy eyes. “Please don’t be upset mother. Most boys my age are going across the pond to fight so I am too. I thought about it for a long time and it’s a risk I am willing to take. It’s a risk I have to take.” Susan was still crying but she gave Elliott a slight nod of approval knowing there was no way she could convince her only son not to go. Elliott stared at his parents for a few moments before gathering his luggage, hugging them both and leaving for the train station. It was a long difficult journey from his small New York hometown to France. It all started with Devens basic training camp in  Worcester County, Massachusetts. He had spent three months there preparing for combat, and had met a boy there from Kentucky who was his age named Henry. They had become friends over the time they spent at Devens as they had bunked together and often kept each other company. They had a lot in common. Henry was also from a small farming community, in his case Arlington, Kentucky. They both enjoyed hunting and the outdoors. Most importantly, they enlisted in the army for the same reasons. Henry was filled with passion and pride for the United States of America. He was willing to give up everything for his homeland. Elliott and Henry had been on the same transport vessel together on the way to France. They were then taken to their station in Chaumont, France from that point. Elliott’s thoughts were interrupted by yelling. He opened his eyes to see a german swinging a spiked club at the side of Henry’s head. The crude weapon made a cracking sound as it made contact with Henry’s skull. The blow was lethal. Henry’s lifeless body crumpled to the dirt in a pool of blood. Elliott dragged himself to his feet and whipped out his Colt 1911 from its leather holster. Forcing it in the direction of the German, his hand shook violently. In a burst of adrenaline fueled rage, Elliott pulled the trigger and didn’t stop until he emptied his whole clip. He looked down at the twitching, blood soaked person he had killed and passed out. He was suddenly in the bathroom of his quarters back in Chaumont. A Gillette stainless steel razor in one hand and a bottle of shaving cream in the other. Looking in the mirror admiring his strong physique, Elliott questioned his logic before he had left America. “Am I really ready to kill someone? Is that who I am?” Back before he had left home, Elliott never really considered this. Elliott had a staring contest with himself in the mirror trying to pierce his brown eyes and stare into his own soul. In the mirror he saw a man but inside he felt like a young boy. “Who am I? What the hell am I doing here?” Elliott awoke to silence. He stood up and looked around the trench. Bodies littered the mud as far as the eye could see. No living people anywhere. “I guess this is the reality of war,” Elliott thought as he sat amongst the corpses of his brothers and burrowed his head in his hands. “No glory. No adventure. No pride. Only death.” He sat there for what felt like hours, not once opening his eyes to see the horrors around him. After an eternity he looked up to see a light green fog floating through the air of no man’s land, slowly making its way towards him. Mustard gas. The reaper of no man’s land had come to seal his doom. Elliott calmly reached in his pocket and pulled out his pack of lucky strikes. He put one in his mouth, lit it up, and waited for death to consume him.The cloud crept closer and closer to the trench with every second bringing the sulfuric stench of rotten eggs. Elliott gulped down his last breath of fresh air before letting the poisonous cloud surround him. The burning sensation was unbearable. His eyes burned. His face burned. His throat burned. He took in a deep breath of the toxin and immediately began to claw at his throat, desperately trying to end his struggle. He had not expected this to be so long and painful. Elliott forced his lungs to inhale more oxygen but there was nothing to breathe but gas. His lungs began to give up on him. He thought of home for the last time before the world went black. “Forgive me mother.”