The rain fell harder and harder, repeatedly washing over the corpses on the battlefield, as if trying to cleanse their misfortune.
British soldiers had already given up collecting bodies, as there were simply too many, so many that they couldn't keep up.
Especially since many corpses lay just tens of meters before enemy lines, going up to collect them without a ceasefire agreement would be tantamount to suicide.
Sitting in the trenches, British soldiers fell into an oppressive silence. The wounded huddled under their raincoats bandaging their wounds, but it was futile, as raindrops would soon soak everything dry, including the bandages.
Captain Charles pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, only to find it was already a soggy clump of tobacco.
Frustrated, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the ground.
Brian leaned over to him, offering a cigarette, "Take one of mine, I still have some left."
