Paul in his men sit in their cement shelter and wait for the bombardment to stop as the recruits are in the process of cracking. all they can do is wait, play cards, and talk.
Hey, your turn. Did you hear that recruit a few minutes ago? They say he was blown to pieces. I keep telling them that all they have to do is not focus on the present but imagine the future, even though for most of them they have nothing to look forward too. We want to live at any price; so we cannot burden ourselves with feelings which . . . would be out of place here. They dont understand. They don't understand pain yet. They don't understand death. Well until then, they will be like sitting ducks. One by one they fall.
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