The stillness of these countryside mornings belies the tempests raging inside me. Every rustling leaf, every bird's song, it all conspires to awaken the ghosts ...

As the sun sets over these verdant hills, I often find myself drifting back to the trenches, to the faces of my brothers-in-arms, now forever frozen in my memor...

These tranquil fields and quaint villages may cloak themselves in serenity, but they cannot drown out the whispers from the hell I survived. It's as though the ...