yippiee

For Their Sake 18 September 1918, Épehy, France  The sounds of screams and soldiers' boots hitting the cracked earth invaded my head, blocking out everything except the overwhelming instinct to run.  I fumbled with the mask, trying to get it completely over my face while being knocked every which way by scrambling men.  As I caught a pace and managed awkwardly around the trenches built into the French terrain, I peered out through the mustard gas.  I saw men falling, writhing in pain, their suffering serenaded by the distant echoes of artillery.  Though my face was protected, their despair reach