Cassius was smiling the last time I saw him. Every time I light a cigarette, I think of his smile; but once I start smoking, the thought fades away.

I've been smoking a lot lately. It helps with the stress; it helps with the boredom. Those are the only two emotions we feel out here. Normally our tobacco fix is rationed, but today I'm smoking a German cigar from a man named Werner. He gave it to me on Christmas Eve, and I gave him a tin of biscuits. We gathered around a bonfire and sang carols in our native tongues until curfew. It was a nice night, but it's over now, and I wish it never happened.

Now we stand again on opposite sides of the desolate field, huddled in our trenches like mice. Christmas was two weeks ago. There has been one battle since, but no deaths have been reported by either side. I couldn't kill Werner, not with his name and his gift, and my brothers seem to feel the same way. For the first time in months, we want to go home.

The higher ups have taken notice. Another battalion arrives tomorrow to "give us the push we need". I didn't smoke tonight; I have a feeling I'll need it later.

"I can't sleep," Vincent mutters.

I peer over the side of my bunk. I can't envy his proximity to the rats. "It won't help to keep me awake."

"I'm tired."

"Then sleep." I know that's not what he means. "Keep up the fight. This war will fizzle out in a matter of weeks, if not days."

He doesn't speak after that, and his snores fill the air soon after. It's calming, reminds me of Cassius. I'd give anything to feel his chest rumbling beneath my head again. I wonder if he feels the same. I fall asleep to the sound of Vincent's snoring.

The sun has set by the time we wake up. Within half an hour, we stand at attention in pristine tatters, rifles to the heavens. A hundred stoic masks greet the new battalion marching in unison across the horizon. Their steps are too perfect, as ours were when we first arrived. A battle approaches in two days' time. They won't do well.

That's when I see him. A rose among thorns. A masterpiece sculpted from a wall of uniform stone. Proof of God's good graces. My Cassius, what have you done?

I can't hear our orders anymore. A ringing pierces my ear worse than artillery fire. He looks at me. That bastard looks at me and smiles. I don't give him the satisfaction of cracking my facade. I'll scream in his face when I get the chance, then I'll hold him tight and never let go.

In an hour, they release us into the trenches. I march briskly through the rat maze and find Cassius smiling.

"You bastard. What are you doing here?"

He barely keeps himself from grabbing me, as do I. "Oliver, isn't it incredible? I never expected to meet you in France. By some miracle, we've been assigned together."

I nod solemnly and take his wrist. "Why, Cassius?"

He smiles fondly. "I remember what you said when you left. That you needed to do this. I suppose I wanted to find direction too."

I shake my head. "I joined for the money. For our future."

"I know why you left."

I don't care anymore. Our precious time together can't be stolen by trivial disagreements. Later, I ask Vincent if he would be willing to trade bunks with an old friend of mine, and he agrees. We get in separate beds as the sun rises, but he soon joins me in the top bunk. Finally, I can feel him again. I can rest my head on his chest and listen to his snoring all day.

"Hello?"

We freeze, and I crane my neck to spot Vincent in the doorway. I do my best to obscure Cassius as he walks in.

"Sorry to bother you. I forgot a few things."

"No problem," I mutter nonchalantly.

He pulls a few photos from under his pillow without a word. But he pauses as he reaches the doorway. "I... understand how lonely it gets out here."

He's gone, and we can breathe again. I hold Cassius close.

The next night is tense. We plan to strike tomorrow. Cassius is manning a machine gun. He's confident in his abilities, and I envy that. I can't stop picturing Werner's face. I hope this new battalion will help me forget. I don't need to smoke tonight.

It's a bloodbath. Even worse than the first battles we waged. I can't make any sense of it. I'm firing because everyone else is. A cannon booms thirty feet from me. A grenade clatters against the trench walls, and someone dives onto it. He's gone. I'm crawling across the barbed landscape with my brothers. Landmines and bullets pick them apart by the dozen. I spy the glint of a gun pointing straight at me. By faint moonlight, I put together Werner's terrified face. He's mowed down by a machine gun before either of us can react. I'm carrying someone over my shoulder. His blood pours across my face. I trek for a mile back to the hospital tent and lay Vincent in a bed. He whimpers like a dog. Nurses rush to keep his bones under the skin. They give up on the leg entirely. He doesn't scream; only whimpers.

I come to my senses in the tent and realize I never left Vincent's side. It's dawn; the battle ended hours ago. Vincent looks pathetic, even with bandages covering the ugly parts. I nudge him awake. He should get used to normal waking hours since he'll be going home soon.

He stares up at me. "What's wrong?"

Do I look sad to him? "You're going to be okay."

He drags his head up and peers down at his body with a sigh. "I'll get a pension for this." He drops his head back onto his pillow and pulls his face taut. "Who did I do this for? My country? I don't know them."

I can't find any words, so I go outside for a smoke.

I burned through three cigars before bed. I'll save the last one for my last day. Cassius and I can share it. His breathing is so smooth, as if we had never walked into Hell. It scares me, but I want to believe it too.

I wake up thrashing and screaming. Something grabs my wrists and holds me down. I kick at the weight, but it stays firm.

"Oliver! Oliver, listen!"

I race through jagged breaths as my limbs seize up. It's Cassius. I'm hurting Cassius. Now I can't move. I'm stuck out there with Vincent and Werner and dozens of men. Cassius cradles my head to his chest until I can feel it. I pull away quick as I can. I can't hurt him again.

Cassius slides out of bed and drops to the ground. "I'll move back to my bunk," he spits.

I reach after him. "No, no. Keep the top bunk. I don't want you sleeping with the rats."

I wake up in terror three more times. I can't tell if Cassius hears me. I may never sleep again. Werner stares at me. Vincent whimpers in my ear. Bombs shake the ground. I just want to sleep.

Cassius grabs my shoulders and pulls me to my feet. He hands me a gun and shoves me outside, and I realize that the tremors haven't stopped. A surprise attack, mere hours after the last battle. Other men run out of their dugouts in pajamas and helmets. Some are even barefoot. Cassius rushes past and heads to his post. I don't know what to do. I can't take a full breath between each explosion. They want us dead. Christmas was a lifetime ago.

I'm in the trenches. I'm on the field. I'm marching with the Germans. I'm watching it all from above. I'm scared. I want a pension.

My chest tears open and cuts my tracks short. I drop to the mud. My lungs heave like a sputtering engine. Copper bites my tongue. Tears dig trenches of salt in my eyelids. Dirt erupts all around me as men march with no fear. And I am left behind to bury myself in the mud. I feel warm hands across my body, guiding me home.

Through trembling pillars of smoke, I catch sight of Cassius charging onward, guns ablaze, and his sickening smile.