War is hell, and hell is for heroes. Blood and fear and death mix in the devil’s stew. Sweat and destruction tries to drown you in the broth. The smell of Satan’s cooking chokes you in feverish brimstone. The sound of demonic fury deafens you. The carnage nauseates you.

But you keep walking forward one step at a time. One bullet at a time. You never dare to stop advancing. Because, if you do, you become blood on the ground, and you won't get back up. You won’t be going home ever again.

Heroes always die. But we’re not heroes. Me and the boys of Baker Company are just a bunch of scared GIs walking our way through hell. Just tired, dirty, unbroken men trying to kill the devil first and then, hopefully, get back home, once again. Oh yes, we still hope. We even pray. We were in a tight spot.

Worn-out, shorthanded, and low on everything. Rest? No, move forward, one step forward. Death becomes your brother - the one you don't want. But family is family. You kill, and if you're not careful, you become that unwanted brother.

But if somebody comes at me and tries to take my like, well, I’ll kill him first. I may not like it, but I will do it. Death wants me. But he can't have me. The only way to stop him is get to Berlin and kill Hitler. I just hope if I do ever walk out of this hell hole that I still have a soul.

Master Sargent Andrews laughed, “Bill. You already lost your sanity and most of your hair.” Rollo handed me a can of spam. Death surrounded us at every turn. If we die, hopefully, God will forgive our sins. If not, God help the devil when we get there. Because, we already know our way around hell.