I trudged through knee-deep mud, my legs sapped of strength, my arms sagging from the weight of my elephant-like pack. As I clambered out of the ditch onto a country road, I noticed a cottage ahead in my moonlit surroundings. Desperate to see civilisation I sprinted over. When I reached the house I peered through the window with my binoculars. It was a family. Similar to my own actually, it reminded me of a time when I was still at home. When I had no worries. “But that life is gone,” I muttered to myself, cursing the war and my luck. I turned away and delved into the blackness of the ditch once more.