I remember the white bone of an arm.
I remember something wet and yellow, that must have been an intestine.
You could peel off chunks of skin with your fingernail.
Mitchell sanders was using his thumbnail to pry off the body lice.
His jaw was in throat.
His upper lip and teeth were gone.
One eye was shot, the other eye had a star shaped hole.
You'll manage.
The war wasn't all that way.
Sometimes things could almost get sweet.
These guys were my brothers.
We'd loved one another.
The war wasn't all about the blood, it was happy too sometimes even peaceful.
A true war story is never about the war.
It's about sunlight.
It's about love and memory.
It's about sorrow.
When your away from the war you miss it.
You become to civilized.
The war wasn't all bad.
