Compositor
"Lovely morning but cold and frosty. One would not think there was a war on." These were famous last words from Private Benjamin Elliott. As the days of war passed, the mud became thicker, lice ran faster and trench foot inflicted itself upon many. Being the lesser evils of war, such physical effects rode alongside the masses of fallen men. Standing beside his brother, Benjamin can feel his mind deteriorating, his senses failing and sheer terror bubbling inside him. With every shell, the shock ricochets through him. His former life but a distant dream - how he will recover this he does not know.
